#next order of business: learn how to do faces in full body drawings

[menkhu]

pfwotr commander snippets, since i got two gift fics that i love so very dearly that feature my commander in some capacity and they made me want to give him some screen time of his own, do his character more justice than a two-sentence biography. all set in chapter 2 (so far)

Queen Galfrey presents Adan to an assembly of buoyant crusaders, high off their victory in Kenabres, and announces his new title. A cheer goes up from the crowd and it’s pure reflex honed by his years tending bar that has him smiling alongside them.

Galfrey is watching Adan with a shining expression of pride and surety, as though she hadn’t just handed the reins of the entire crusade to a man defined more by his fuckups than anything else. He isn’t sure whether to feel angry or sick, but he knows that whatever his instincts are they aren’t positive, and he has the eyes of so many soldiers on him, soldiers whose morale is his concern now, somehow, so he lets his emotions sit, unprocessed, and broadens his grin like he knew this was going to happen all along.

“Well, why don’t you say a few words?” Galfrey invites playfully, gesturing between him and the crowd.

Adan blinks. “Who, me?”

It hits him a moment later.

Of course she was talking about him.

He’s the Knight Commander.

He’s the Knight Commander.

Queen Galfrey laughs like he’s just made a fantastic joke, though there’s a note of wariness to it. He had heard laughter just like it all the time from customers when someone a little too drunk got a little too friendly with someone both uncomfortable and polite. He pretends not to notice.

Adan takes a step forward and raises a hand up next to his face to draw attention. He needs to remind the crusaders - his crusaders - that they have difficult trials ahead of them, but that they’ve overcome some pretty demanding shit already, so they’re capable of overcoming anything. He doesn’t want to use those words exactly, though. Too disingenuous, even if he isn’t lying when he says them. He needs something more real. Not too real, though. Reality is bleak. They don’t need to be reminded of the way the smoke choked the streets of the Market Square, or of the rust-colored puddles outside The Defender’s Heart left by the rain a full week after the cultist’s assault, of the cries of their compatriots who threw their bodies between the building and the alchemists’ fire.

“Let’s, uh.” He clears his throat. “Kill some demons, shall we?”

Ineloquent as his words are, they resonate with the soldiers, who whoop with delight.

When he turns to face her, Galfrey nods at him, though he can’t read anything in her expression anymore.

-

“So, Knight Commander, have any plans for your first order of business now that you’re our leader?” Irabeth asks. She’s trying to sound casual, but Adan knows just how important the chain of command is to her. Every word out of his mouth holds more weight to her, now.

“Sure,” he says genially, though how could he; his top priority not an hour ago had been taking a nice nap and he doubted that as an answer would satisfy her curiosity about the crusade’s trajectory. “Mandatory biweekly worship of Cailean, in honor of their commander’s faith.”

“Are you serious?” Irabeth asks, and, bless her, she actually sounds uncertain, though Adan can’t say it’s unearned. In the past couple weeks, she had seen him do plenty of carousing, but precious little knight commanding.

“Of course not,” he says, wounded. “I’m not so irresponsible.”

Supply lines. They’ll want to strengthen supply lines. It’s clear to any crusader that their lack of numbers is among their biggest obstacles in fighting off the demons, but jumping headfirst into recruiting without first ensuring they have the supplies needed to support new recruits could see people starving or sent to the front lines without proper arms. He doesn’t know jack shit about supply lines and certainly isn’t going to lecture anyone about them like he does, but learning will have to be one of his priorities; he doesn’t want starving crusaders on his hands.

Irabeth nods at him, relieved, and waits expectantly for his real answer.

“Those who are underage or have certain health conditions will be exempt.”

-

“Tell me, what do you think of me?” Daeran asks. [or y’know. whatever it is he actually says in-game LOL]

The answer, for once, springs easily out of Adan’s mouth, like it had been waiting on the tip of his tongue. “I think you aren’t half as simple as you say you are.”

A smirk curls Daeran’s lip. “Well! How very judgement-neutral of you. I suppose fence-sitting is a useful skill in politics, right among kowtowing and pageantry. You may just be cut out for this commander job after all. You know, I only asked because the answer to such questions says more about the answerer than the asker, and I must say, your response was very enlightening.”

“Neutral?” Adan frowns and tips his head, still stuck on the very beginning of Daeran’s speech. “Well, I like it, anyhow.”

After a beat, Daeran snorts. “Of course you do.”

“So you’re telling me you’re actually not curious about how people see you from the outside, even a little?”

“My dear commander, I know exactly how people see me; they’re always quite eager to make it known. I’ve heard every unflattering remark. But even were that not the case, I still wouldn’t ask. Their opinions simply don’t matter to me.”

“You and I differ in that regard,” Adan says after a pause, so light and easy that some might not recognize it as a confession.

In his position, he’s always being observed, and he knows he doesn’t handle the pressure well, but he doesn’t know how to be any other way. He hopes that when everyone sees him, all the many people relying on him, they know he’s trying. He hopes he can do better for them than try.

“Hey, clever mind games and sly tricks aside, how do you see me?” Adan steps back and holds his arms out, presenting himself. When Daeran only observes him, eyes drifting from his face to his feet and back up again, he grins and prompts, “Go on. Or are you afraid you’ll tell me something about yourself?”

-

Adan plucks at the strings of his lute, aimlessly shifting between tunes, a drinking song he learned from a group of Shackles sailors in a previous life, the score of a play he saw once and only half remembered, a few bars of the Song of Elysium. His hands always seem to wander back to that one, even when he tries to pry himself away. Tonight, sitting by a campfire with a circle of his comrades, all passing around bottles of wine, watching the smoke rise until it fades among the stars, the tune feels particularly fitting.

He hums along in harmony. He feels good. It’s been a while since he last had enough liquor in him for his joints to feel loose, his skin flushed with warmth. It’s been a while since he last had a chance to relax and appreciate the beauty in all things.

“Aneviaaa,” Adan sings as he strums.

Anevia, who had been chatting with Wilcer about supply lines or something equally toilsome, snaps her head towards him, and it’s funny how concerned she looks.

Fighting back laughter, Adan continues to sing, “Oh, Aneviaaa, I’m not trying to steal you from your wife, but where have you been all my life, there’s no advisor quite so strong and quick and smart, and all those words are just the start, Aneviaaa.” He can’t hold back the laughter anymore, she’s looking at him, and that’s just too funny. “Anevia is so smart,” he continues, now speaking rather than singing, playing a couple repeating notes that don’t fit with the song he had been playing previously, “that she knows this is all a joke, right? And that I think the world of her and Irabeth?”

Anevia rolls her eyes. “Just don’t make it too bawdy.”

Adan laughs again and returns to his previous melody with a little more vigor. “Anevia’s the height of class, the sort to suffer nothing crass, so I won’t say or sing a word about her lovely--”

[ellenarts]

seulgi colour study~

[if-found-return-to-sender]

Star Gazing ~ Bill Weasley

The Burrow was busy with the number of people that were inside it.

The nine Weasleys and many members of the Order of Phonix were packed inside of the many tight spaces of the cozy family home. Another moment in there I might have had a small anxiety attack.

I made my way outside and laid out in the grass in front of the home. I sat looking up at the sky just watching the stars and moon slowly pass by in front of me.

I heard footsteps approach me to where I was sitting.

I looked up to see who came out to talk to me.

"Can I sit with you?" he asked.

It was Bill the oldest out of all the Weasley siblings. Seven years older than me.

I nodded.

He then sat next to me. I could feel the warmth radiating off of him from the close proximity that we were in.

I then realized just how cold it was outside and just how thin my jumper was. I pulled my knees up to my chest to try and keep the heat close to my body.

We sat in silence for a while before one of us spoke up in the dead of night.

"Why are you out here in the cold? You certainly didn't think this through did you," he spoke up, I could feel him looking up at my face as he said this. I kept looking up at the sky while replying to him.

"My dad told me that when my mom was stressed that she would go stargazing no matter where she was. I'm not stressed but I just needed to get out of that house for a little bit. Your twin brothers were starting to drive me crazy."

We both chuckled lightly at my last remark knowing I'm right.

"I did not realize just how cold it was out here. Compared to the heat inside of the house it's nice and refreshing out here. Now I'm just trying to keep the warmth in so I don't get any colder."

I had not noticed that he had taken off his jacket and was beginning to put it around my shoulders. My cheeks turned a light pink from his gesture.

I scooted closer to the redhead as he did this to also try and keep him warm as well in the process.

In my life, I have always had a thing for the older Weasley. I met him before my first year at Hogwarts. Even though there are a couple of years between us that hasn't stopped me from hoping or crushing on the older man. However, I don't think he would go for me especially since the age so my crush was just something of my dreams.

He then asked, "do you even know any constellations or are you just out here staring at them?"

"I'll have you know that sometimes just staring at the beautiful night sky is enough for me. But yes I do know some of them thank you very much!"

"And which ones of those would that be?"

I pointed slightly up and to the right, "that one is my favorite it's called Andromeda."

Bill looked at me confused. I know it's because he can't see the stars connect as I can.

So I take out my wand and then grab his hand as I use magic to lightly draw the outline of the constellation so that he could see what I saw.

"And that one there is Hercules, and then the most iconic Lupus, its Latin meaning is the wolf. Makes a lot of sense right. Andromeda is my favorite because one it's a beautiful outline and name for a constellation, and two the Latin meaning is a proper princess."

As I was babbling on I noticed that I still held his hand with mine. At the realization, I quickly pulled my hand away from his hoping he didn't think I was too obsessed with the stars in the sky.

He looked at me with curiosity, "what is the real reason you love the night sky so much?"

I looked up at him and sighed deeply.

"When my dad would go out during the full moon I would sit and wait up for him by looking up at the night sky waiting for the night to be over so that I can see my dad again. And as time went on I just started learning more and more about the night sky I was staring up at. It made the time pass so much quicker than just staring at it. I then learned how to turn into my animagus so that I could go out at night with my dad to help keep him safe. So then I taught my dad about the night sky so that we had something to do together. That's why I learned how to read the night sky."

I smiled at the end of my big schpeel feeling somewhat happy about my reasoning. Still looking at the sky above me.

I briefly looked at the man sitting next to me. To see him staring right back at me.

While looking at him I asked him if I had anything on my face.

He just chuckled at me and my response.

"What? I'm being serious if I have something on my face please tell me. I don't want to walk around all the cute boys in there if there is something on my face."

When I said my last sentence his face fell a little from the small smile he held. The moment this happened I felt bad for what I said to the ginger. I think that this man has some feelings towards me.

"What's got you so down? Was it something I said, I'm sorry if it was for whatever I said," I quickly said this in a panic to try and go back to the peacefulness we were once sitting in.

"No, it was nothing you said I just remembered something from a while ago."

"Well, what is it maybe a second opinion can help take it off your mind."

"It's nothing for you to worry about."

And with that, he got up and began to walk back to the house.

I got up and chased after him, grabbing his wrist when I reached him. "Hey, if it was something I said I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push anything too far."

He just looked at me while contemplating something around in his own head before saying, " You have nothing on your face, and none of those boys would notice if you did in the first place."

I was taken aback by the hushed tone he used to say while looking into my eyes.

Smirking I said, "are you jealous of those boys in there because I want to look 'okay' for them?" My heart pounding out of my chest as I asked him this question.

He looked away while his face flushed a crimson color that looked pink in the moonlight outside his family home. I put one hand on his chest while my other hand raised his head to look at me. With the hand I had on his chest I could feel his heart pounding against his body.

I smiled lightly at him as he tried to avert my gaze.

Looking him in the eyes I said, "they are boys compared to you, I like to flirt with them, yes. But I'm not looking to be in a relationship with a boy. I'm looking for a man."

And with that being said I quickly walked over to the house knowing that Bill would be right behind me. So I started to run getting to the door and opening it right as he picked me up making me laugh. Everyone inside the house heard the loud bang of the door and my loud annoying laugh.

We walked in laughing at one another.

I walked straight past everyone to the bathroom on the next floor up while Bill walked into the family room too where the adults were settled in the late evening.

When I walked into the bathroom I looked into the mirror with a smile on my face noticing the jacket still wrapped around my shoulders.

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

"What has got you in such a good mood?" asked my Mom.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," I replied back to her.

"You know we knew it was only a matter of time before you and her finally realized just how much you like each other. I don't know how much longer we could handle the mindless flirting between the two of you," George piped in.

"Yeah, I was getting ready to lock the two of you in a room and not letting you out until you realized your feelings," Fred agreed with his twin brother.

"What were you talking about out there in the yard?" her father Remus asked me.

"We were talking about the stars. She's very passionate about them. I could listen to her ramble on all day about anything she's passionate about. The amount of excitement that she gets from those topics," my cheeks heated up at the confession I had made in front of everyone.

I turned around to look at the room of people around me. Many of them had smiles across their faces including Y/n's father.

"What I didn't say anything I didn't mean?"

I bid them all a good night as I needed to clear my head from the night activities.

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

As I walked back down the stairs from the bathroom I walked past Bill. Before I made it totally past him he grabbed my hand and whispered for me to meet him in his room later tonight.

I nodded at him as an understanding.

Walking back into the family room I was faced with lingering smiles from everyone. A weird sight in my opinion.

Then of course one of the twins had to say something.

"Have you got yourself a crush Y/n?" Fred asked. Molly gave him a swift hit to the back of the head from his remark.

"Yeah, Y/n you can trust us if you do. We promise not to tell a soul," George added in. Ducking from his mother's hand.

I giggled at them before I replied, "I can't tell you anything personal without everyone else knowing. Merlin knows you two can't keep your traps shut. And besides, even if I did have a crush it does contain either you or your opinions so bud out."

After saying that I smack both of them on the forehead knocking them both slightly backward.

I bid good night to my father and the rest of the room before making my way up to Ginny's room to change into my pajamas. Walking in both Hermione and Ginny are sitting and waiting for me expectantly on Ginny's bed.

"What?" I ask as the two of them stare at me waiting for some kind of story.

"Well, are you going to tell us what happened between you and my brother or what?" Ginny pipes up.

I roll my eyes as I begin to change.

"All we did was talk about the stars, and why I know so much about them. And more like I talked and he listened. That is about all we did." I replied to Ginny's question.

Hermione spoke up this time, "well we saw how close the two of you got out in the yard and we even saw him pick you up and spin you around in his arms."

I just smiled at the memory that happened not too long ago.

"Yes that did happen however, nothing else happened between the two of us just so you know. Trust me if anything happened you two would be the first to know about it," I replied to them, "he also told me to meet him in his room tonight, and I have no idea what he has in mind."

The two younger girls squealed in excitement at my response.

"Thank Merlin! I have telling him to make a move all weekend," Ginny said happily.

"You know you sound too excited about this, considering that he is your brother," I responded to her statement.

"I have made peace with the fact that my brothers will eventually all be with someone they love, and the fact that you were friends with the twins and then met Bill is another plus. Almost all the girls that have tried to be my friend at Hogwarts, do so because they want to get with one of my brothers. You were friends with the twins before you even met Bill, and your friendships with us didn't change once your crush developed," the redhead stated.

I smiled to myself as I finished changing, "thanks Gin, happy to hear that."

Turning around and sitting on the bed across from them they continued to smile. I asked them what was so funny as they slowly started to giggle in my presence.

"Well, are you going to go see him or what?" Hermione whispered from her spot on Ginny's bed.

"Not yet, I have to wait until I hear the twins get into their room. I would not want to get caught sneaking off to see Bill by those two. I would never hear the end of that story. And the entire house would know something else before either of us has had a discussion," I laughed at the girls.

"Besides nothing is probably going to happen between the two of us but a discussion, the one we had outside was cut short by something I said that upset Bill," I continued.

"What did you say to him?" the brunette asked me.

"Bill kept looking at my face and I asked him if I had anything on my face, and then I said that if I had anything on my face that he should tell me because I wouldn't want to come inside looking weird in front of all the boys in the house. He got jealous of me saying that and that is what caused our conversation to be cut short," I answered.

"Well, at least you're not oblivious to the fact that he was jealous and that you didn't just chalk it up to some weird behavior. Like Hermione over here," the redhead piped up.

"Yeah Hermione, what is going on with your crush on Ron? Any progress?" I asked her.

"No," she replied.

"No, what?" I said.

"No there is no progress, and to be honest I don't think there ever will be any progress on it. Ron is too oblivious to anything I try to do to hint at the fact that I like him," she babbled.

"We could help you with that you know," I responded to her flustered state.

"Please, I could use all the help I could get. I am running out of ideas over here," she pleaded.

The three of us let out a laugh at her desperation to get the man she wanted. "We'll talk about that tomorrow," I said to her.

As we were talking I heard the two loudest Weasleys make their way to their room in the middle of the house. This is my queue to make my way to Bill's room on the floor below.

"Well ladies it was great talking to you, but as the twins have now retired to their rooms that is my queue to dash to another redhead's bedroom before I am caught by them," I whisper to the two girls.

They whisper to me good luck before I make my way out into the hallway of the now quiet home.

I slowly walk down the stairs to the room almost right below Ginny's. Knocking on the door lightly as to not make too much noise. I hear a small come in before I open the door to the cozy bedroom.

As I open the door I see Bill sitting on his bed almost looking relieved that I had decided to come after all. Before the door was all the way closed he asked me a question.

"What took you so long? I had thought that you decided not to come."

"Sorry, I wanted to wait until I heard the twins make their way up to their room. There was no way I was risking getting caught by them coming down here," I replied to him.

He looked at me with an understanding face. "Mind if I sit?" I ask.

"No, go right ahead," pointing at the spot beside him.

I sat down next to him criss-cross on his bed, and he turned to face me from the position he was previously in.

"So, what did you want to talk about?"

"Oh, um..."

"Now the cats got your tongue. That's not like the Bill Weasley I know. What's got you all flustered?"

"You."

The answer was blunt and was something I was not expecting at all to fall from his lips in front of me. "What about me has got you all flustered?" I asked, trying to edge him on to finally say what I want to hear.

I could tell he was having a mental argument with himself as to how he was going to answer my question.

"You are the reason I am so flustered. The reason why I can't think straight sometimes when you are in the same room," he confessed to me.

"Well if you can't think straight then I think I should leave so that you can come up with a straight answer as to why you wanted to meet with me right now," I giggled. He chuckled along with me.

"No, I can think straight right now it's just that I am trying to just get everything off my chest so that I don't leave anything unsaid at this moment." He pondered for a moment before continuing, "the only way I can say this is in the bluntest way possible... I like you. I have for many years, and with the recent events happening around us I don't know if I could go through any more of it without you knowing how I feel for you."

I just looked at him. Not saying anything to him.

He looked at me a little scared at what I was going to say next.

"I like you too. I have been waiting for you to say it for months," I said to him as I smiled.

"You knew, and didn't want to say anything to me," he replied.

"I just wanted to see you make the first move. Besides you have been the worst at hiding your feelings for me, everyone knows by the way. That's why I waited for the twins to be....."

He cut me off with a kiss.

It was one full of passion, care, and love.

He tasted like Fire Whiskey and coffee.

Just like I expected.

This was one of the best kisses I have ever had in my entire life.

When we pulled apart with our foreheads still touching, my eyes still closed.

Scarred that if I opened them too quickly this would all be just a dream, and I would end up back at square one.

"Is that a big enough move for you?" he whispered.

I slowly opened my eyes to see the beautiful man sitting in front of me. I looked him over as if it were the first time I ever saw him, but also as if I were to look away he would disappear from my reach.

"No, that's about just right." I smiled, leaning in for another kiss with the long-haired ginger. He was quick to give in to my intentions by also leaning in to meet me in the middle.

As we pulled apart this time we looked deep into each other's eyes as if we were the last two people on Earth.

"Your eyes look like they have stars in them," he said to me.

"Well, don't you know the way into my heart William," I responded.

He chuckled at my remark and the use of his real name, "you know I have never liked when anyone uses my real name, but when you say it. It makes my heart flutter just a little."

I smiled at his response, and back a little to look at his entire face. "I hope you know that just because you whisper sweet nothings to me does not mean that you now get to get in my pants right?"

His face flushes red at my sly remark, "Of Couse I do! Do you really think my mother would raise me to be that kind of man?"

"No, but I was just putting down the ground rules. Especially if we are going to be in a relationship of any sort," I respond to his question.

"So, you want to be in a relationship with me?"

"Well yeah, if I didn't then I wouldn't have kissed you in the first place."

"I know that I don't need to ask in order to know your response, but I still need to ask. Would you, Y/n Lupin, like to be my girlfriend?"

"That was a very weird way of putting it, but yes, yes I would love to be your girlfriend," I responded as I tackled him into a hug. The both of us falling back onto his bed in the process.

I fell asleep in Bill's arms as he slowly combed through my hair. I woke up in the same position I fell asleep in. Looking up to see Bill looking down at me.

"You know it's weird to watch someone sleep you know," I told him still half asleep.

The laugh he let out was deeper than his normal voice, causing a shiver to run down my spine.

"However, I do like the sound of your morning voice. It's much sexier than your normal voice," I said to him.

"Thank you for that information. I'll take it into consideration from now on," he replied back in the same voice I was just talking about.

"You know instead of telling everyone that we are together now, we should let one of them come and wake us up. And when whoever comes in here sees both of us in here then everyone will be in here. It just makes it so much easier than telling all of them one by one," I look up to him to see what he thinks of my original idea.

He nods, "Sounds like a good plan, I could use a couple more minutes of sleep anyways."

"Me too," I say as I cuddle back into his chest to get just a little more sleep.

The next thing I hear is quiet talking from the doorway of Bill's room.

"Fred, you owe me 5 sikkels. I told you they would do something tonight," I heard George say from his place in the doorway.

"Would you all hush you're probably waking them up with all the talking your doing," Molly rushes out as I start to stir to show that I am waking up.

"I can't believe it. Bill hasn't had a girlfriend since he broke up with Fleur. It makes sense though. He was very bad at hiding his feelings from almost everyone including Y/n. And I think that he was the only one that was oblivious to what he was doing," Ginny says.

"If you guys are done with your staring and gawking, I would like to know what went down with the two of them last night as she is my daughter," my father, Remus, says to everyone.

Before my dad takes a step into the room Bill speaks up from next to me.

"The only thing that happened last night was the start of a relationship. We kissed each other, that was it. And yes she made it very clear last night that I was very bad at hiding my feelings from her and the rest of you. So, please if you will leave so that you do not wake her up. We will be down for breakfast in a little bit."

They all look shocked at the words coming out of his mouth as they thought that I would be the first to wake up out of us two. But they listened to him, and slowly but surely made their way out of the door frame to the room. Molly being the last one out.

"I am so happy for you two. It's about time you finally got with... your words not mine, the girl of your dreams," Molly says from the doorway.

"Thank you, Molly," I say back to her while rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"You're welcome dear, I'll see you two downstairs for breakfast," she replies before shutting the door behind her.

"Sooo, the girl of your dreams huh," I tease the man laying next to me.

"Yeah, that you are," he replies.

My face turns red from his remark.

I sit up, bringing him with me. I kiss his cheek before slowly getting out of the bed trying to mentally prepare myself for the mass amount of questions we were going to receive once we reached the kitchen for breakfast. Bill comes up behind me and kisses me on the cheek asking what I was thinking about.

I said, "I am thinking about what the first thing the twins are going to say upon seeing us walk into the room with one another. And the possibilities are endless is what I am thinking."

We both laugh at the thought of what could be sturring around the minds of the Weasley twins at this very moment.

"Well, why don't we go down and see what they have to say. Because my money is on the fact that you probably have a better come back to what they have to say," Bill says to me.

"I know I liked you for a reason," I said back to him, "are you ready to face the music?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," he says as he grabs my hand.

"Alright," I say before giving him one more kiss, "Let's go."

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Nanny Pt. 3

Lee Bodecker x Nanny!F!Reader

18+

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: alcohol/drinking, food, corrupt cop, mentions of prostitution/smut, implied age gap (reader is in her 20s), cursing, mentions of serial killers/murder, mutual pining, 

Summary:

Based on this Request: The reader moves to Meade/Knockemstiff while answering an advertisement for a nanny in the paper. We learn that the ad was posted by Sandy, who has the reader watch her child whenever she and Carl leave to do their secret thing. After one of these trips, Sandy and her husband never return, so the reader is left caring for their baby. With the new investigation into these events, she meets Sandy’s brother Lee, the older, out of shape, alcoholic bachelor, and they are suddenly thrown into each others lives as he begins looking into his sister’s disappearance. Through it all, Lee starts to fall for her, and they slowly become a family.

A/N: I got inspired re-watching one of my favorite shows and I want to know if anyone else gets the reference I’m using! If I missed anything I should include as a warning that I missed please let me know! This is also unedited!

Taglist Form is in my bio!

Series Masterlist

Your shoulders tensed listening to the radio in the morning. Sitting on your ottoman, you were painting your nails, using the coffee table as your nail station. It was a really bright morning, and you had the curtains pulled open to draw in light. Julie frantically rushed between her room and the bathroom getting ready for her shift at the diner. The newest single from The Beach Boys was playing through the little counter top radio, but at the top of the hour, the melodies playing through the speaker changed to the news. The top story of the morning was chilling.

“Jules,” you said, calling her over hesitantly, putting the cap back on the bottle of polish. “Come listen to this.”

She scurried out of her room while working to tie her apron in the back, and then she stood next to where you sat to listen to the story on the news. The color drained from her face as you both listened to the reporter describe the horrific scene that was under investigation early this morning.

Roy Laferty was an evangelical preacher whose body washed up by the lake very early that same morning. The news report talked about the police investigation, and also disclosed his wife Helen, is also reported missing. They are looking into the disappearance of Helen, as well as opening a full investigation on Laferty’s murder. They also urge individuals with any information regarding the two to call the Sheriff’s department and to provide a statement.

“That’s horrifying,” you mumble, shocked as you try to process the news. Julie nods in agreement but strangely doesn’t seem nearly as affected by the news as you.

“It’s happening again,” she mutters, obviously concerned but her lack of surprise worries you.

“What do you mean again?” you ask.

“There was a string of unexplained murders, all men, like this newest one,” Julie explained, “This was all over the news like two years ago- can’t believe you hadn’t heard about it.” All you could do was shrug; this was all new to you. “Obviously, there was nothing linking their deaths, but there were these five killings a couple of years ago that are still unsolved. There’s no evidence, but the town rumors it was like a serial killer or something. Nothing is confirmed, of course, just a story.”

“What makes people think it was all the same person?” you ask, hesitantly.

“All the people were always the same type,” she shrugs, “Men all in their 20s and 30s. Again, there’s nothing linking them all together. It’s just talk.”

You clicked off the radio, and didn’t know what to do with yourself. Julie patted your shoulder, comfortingly but she had to go on with her day. So did you, and you almost her ability to move about the apartment almost unfazed by the news. You suppose it makes sense, her growing up here she’s probably used to it. You didn’t have the experience or the thick skin she had.

You had decided to go to the library, still preoccupied by the news segment as well as the things Julie had told you about the Sheriff. You spent the better half of the morning looking at the library’s archives of old newspapers. You wanted to read more about the unsolved cases Julie had told you about, so there you sat for several hours looking through the microfilm reader. You even stumbled upon articles that featured the Sheriff.

There he was plain as day on the front page when it was announced he had won the election the first time he ran several years back. You couldn’t help but notice the changes in his appearance and demeanor compared to the man you keep running into. He was a little slimmer, and he looked a lot happier, a little fuller of life, you decided was a good way to explain it. His smile was wider, and you could see the difference in his eyes as well. It was seeing how he was before the stress of the job began to take its heavy toll. He had on the same leather jacket as well, you were fairly certain, even though the one in the photograph hung a little looser.

You continued to skim through articles, piecing your way through the history of Knockemstiff. Little articles in black and white that persevered the history of this dark little town. You were beginning to realize this backwater town was a lot more tangled and complex than you originally believed. It was a tangled history, riddled with crime and unclosed cases, that people seem to have either forgotten or choose to ignore for their own sake. Your mind wandered back to the things Julie had told you about the Sheriff and him being corrupt. You wonder how much of what you read about linked back to him. Though you imagine if he has any sort of political connection, which a man like him must have, the things he was involved in probably didn’t even make it into the paper. The thought made you physically shiver.

You put the large leather portfolios of archives you took and put them back into their proper place on the self chronologically. You grabbed your sweater from the back of your chair, and pushed the chair back into place. Looking up at the clock on the wall, it was only just one in the afternoon. You decided to head down to the diner and grab a bite, and also visit Julie during her second shift. It was a short walk from the library to the diner. Everywhere felt like a short walk here, probably because everything in downtown was not much bigger than a few blocks. The majority of people lived far from the center of town, on their own land and farms.

The little bell on the door rang when you stepped in and Julie waved at you from behind the counter and pointed for you to grab an empty table in her section. You put your bag on the table and took a seat. It was a fairly busy time, most people who worked at the surrounding businesses coming in for their lunch break. Julie brought you over a coffee and then said she’d be back to chat when she got to take her five.

Lee hadn’t been able to go home since the phone call. The symptoms of his hangover were worsening and he was growing more irritable. His five o’clock shadow was still evident on his tired face and his head was pounding. He tried his best to just power through it but the sound of anyone trying to talk to him just made his ears ring.

After leaving the scene, he had to stop by his office and then he was on the phone for the better part of an hour fielding calls from frantic citizens not only of Knockemstiff but also Meade, where Laferty was from. Despite how horribly he felt, he tried his best to keep his temper level and just reassure people he had things under control. He was losing his patience.

He opened up his desk drawer and grabbed his bottle of asprin. Empty. He threw it into the small waste bin and got up abruptly grabbing his jacket off the hook and storming out. He didn’t tell anyone he was leaving and he didn’t care. It was a short walk to the drugstore from the station and he wouldn’t be five minutes. He just needed to do something to stop his head from hurting.

“Afternoon, Sheriff,” the pharmacist greeted when he walked in. He nodded his head upwards briefly to reply without having to talk. He just needed to get in and out. She went back to whatever she was working on when he came in, and he browsed the aisles for what he needed. After paying and walking out, he glanced in the direction of the diner when he was crossing the street. There you were, again. Sitting alone and chatting with the waitress that was refilling your coffee.

He let out a heavy sigh, and then continued walking. He didn’t want you to see him like this, hungover, unshaved, wrinkled uniform and heavy undereye bags from his lack of sleep. You looked- well, Lee thought you were the prettiest thing he’s seen in a while, maybe ever. There was something about you he couldn’t pinpoint. Maybe it was just because you weren’t from here. You were a fresh face, and not ruined by this town. There was a sweetness and an innocence in how you talked to him, because you didn’t know him like the rest of people here did. He liked that.

Even when he left the station for the day, he couldn’t even go home yet. He had a meeting at the bar with one of Brown’s lackeys. He was just supposed to collect his cut so he couldn’t imagine it would take long, but he was still annoyed. Stepping into the bar he looked around as he took off his hat. It was a little more crowded tonight then when he was here last. The red curtain was closed and his eyes lingered there for a moment before directing his attention to the man he recognized who was waving him over.

“Sheriff,” the man greets and Lee slides into the booth across from him.

“Hayward,” he replies. Without even needing to order, the bartender comes over bringing them a bottle of scotch and two glasses.

“You ever go back there?” Hayward asks, watching as a girl came out and brought a man behind the curtain who had been waiting at the bar.

“No,” Lee scoffs.

“They are amazing,” Hayward says, almost giddy. Lee feels sympathy towards the poor woman who had to take care of him. Lee doesn’t acknowledge the statement and just empties his glass and begins to pour himself a second.

“So, my cut?” Lee asks. Hayward frowns and goes into the breast pocket of his sports coat and pulls out an envelope of cash.

“You aren’t getting full,” the man says when Lee cocks a brow at the thinness of the envelope.

“Still?” Lee asks, pissed. Hayward nods. Lee’s jaw clenches.

“You didn’t keep things tidy on your end,” Hayward reminds him, “You got one job. Keep the cops out of our territory. We had two cruisers drive through last week. The only reason you’re getting anything at all is cause you managed to keep your people off us when we did the exchange with Deckard’s crew.”

The man finishes his drink, and then slaps the empty glass on the table. He pulls out his own envelope, which is much thicker than Lee’s and drops down more than enough for the drinks. He chuckles condescendingly and tells the Sheriff to get a dance. Fuck that. Lee takes the extra money and plans to just put it right in his pocket and go home. He finishes his third scotch and suddenly his headache was back. He felt worse than he did earlier today.

“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” a feminine voice asks, making him break his line of thought. He looks to his side and he recognizes her as one of the girls he sees bringing men to the back room, behind the velvet curtain. He shakes his head, and instead of leaving him alone, she slides into the booth next to him. Her hand grazes over his thigh. “You seem awful tense, Sheriff,” she says and then bites her lip.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted. He knows she doesn’t actually want him, and it’s just an attempt to get him to spend money in the backroom. If he doesn’t focus his already hazing vision, maybe she could vaguely remind him of you. He can’t do it, but he wants to. Her hand moves up his leg and he pulls away. He adjusts his pants and she shrugs.

“Maybe next time then,” she winks before walking away. He rests his head back on the vinyl seat and sighs. He grabs his hat and jacket, leaving before he changes his mind. “Ask for Cherry when you come in, yeah?” she calls when he walks out.

You are just everywhere. You’re in his head and he doesn’t even know you. He needs to sleep, desperately, and part of him in the back of his mind hopes you’ll be there. When he wakes up, he doesn’t remember.

“Have you heard about the Church fundraiser coming up?” Julie asks. You shake your head. “It’s a pretty big deal here. Everyone participates.”

“What is it?” you ask, kicking off your slippers so you can sit crisscross on the couch.

“Bid-On-A-Basket,” she says casually, like it’s the most obvious thing.

“Never heard of it,” you reply, “It sounds fun. What is it?”

“All us single gals put together a picnic basket with everything for a lunch,” she explains, “and then all the eligible bachelors bid on the basket and a date with the girl who made it. Last year, the dreamiest guy, Bill Whittier, bought mine- it’s so fun. Me and Bill didn’t work out but it was a good time.”

“I don’t know anyone here,” you say hesitantly.

“Perfect way to get a date then,” she teases. You bite your lip. You aren’t sure about this.

“And what if some creep is the highest bidder?” you counter.

“You get a bad date story for your next date?” she poses. “Please,” she begs, “It’s for a good cause, all the money this year is going to help the Sunday school.”

“What if no one bids on it?” You rebut.

“Look at yourself,” she scoffs, “you’ll get bids. Trust me.” You roll your eyes.

“I’ll think about it,” you say finally. She smirks, completely planning to wear you down.

“Remember it’s for the kids,” she reasons, “It wouldn’t hurt to go and participate.”

“I said I’ll think about it,” you laugh.

Time passes and soon enough you get another call from Sandy, and you are suddenly back to taking care of Valerie. You had missed her, a lot actually. You definitely have gotten attached to her, and you think you’ve grown on her too. Sandy was vague this time for how long they’d be gone, but since the previous time went so smoothly, you didn’t worry about it.

About a week after Sandy and Carl left this time, there was another disturbing news report. You were sitting on the floor, changing Valerie and you had the television playing softly in the background. The news told the story of another body, this time found in the woods off of the highway. You finish changing the baby and hold her close, her little chin resting on your shoulder as you watch the news story. It was just like Julie had talked about. Another man, thirty years old. He was shot and his body abandoned. You jump at the knock at the front door.

You peep through the curtains, and you see the Sheriff waiting on the front porch. You wonder if he knows you’re there. Part of you almost wishes he knows it you here and he wanted to see you. It’s incredibly stupid on your part and you know better, but nonetheless, part of you hoped he came here for you. Very stupid. With Valerie on your hip, you open the door.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he says walking into the house. He stops in front of you and presses a kiss to Valerie’s forehead and she squeals happily seeing Lee. You close the door with your foot. “May I?” he asks, and opens his arms. You agree, based on Valerie’s reactions to him whenever she sees him. He takes her in his arms, and she starts playing with his tie. He loosens it so she can play with it and not choke him.

“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” you ask. He reacts in a way in a way you can’t really read, but you don’t press.

His mind just goes back to the woman a couple weeks back in the brothel who asked him the same thing, and that his mind immediately had gone to you. He just clears his throat and snaps himself out of that thought process.

“Um, I just came by to see Sandy,” he says, “But I can fathom a guess that she’s not here?”

“Excellent deduction,” you joke, and he smirks. Valerie has his tie in her mouth and is covering it in drool. He doesn’t even seem to care.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you nod. “You looked a little scared when you answered.”

“Just watching the news before you showed up is all,” you explain, “They were talking about how there was another man found dead.”

“Ain’t got nothing to worry about,” he says, “We’re on top of it. I’m on my way over there now.”

“Can I ask you something?” you ask hesitantly.

“Of course, darling.”

“My friend, you probably know her- Julie Grady.”

“Yeah, nice kid,” he says, listening but gently pulling his tie from Valerie’s grasp. She starts playing with the flap of the pocket of his jacket.

Kid. You almost grimace. That’s right. Of course, Lee would view someone your age that way. You weren’t. You chastise yourself for even caring, but you decide to continue. You shouldn’t care how he sees you.

“Yeah- well, she told me there have been others,” you continue, “I also read up about it, just the newspapers at the library- but she said people thought it was some kind of serial killer… I just, I want to know what you think.”

“I don’t think know,” he answers honestly, a little taken aback, not expecting you to approach him with something this serious. “I doubt it,” he explains, “Serial killers stay close to home. Now those cases you read about, and these two we are looking at- they sound close together but logistically, they aren’t really. Two of those unsolved were in completely different states- just like this new one.”

“So, no traveling serial killer?” you chuckle, trying to sound lighthearted. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“Most people like that stay in one area,” Lee explains, “They work jobs, they have a home, you know? They tend to stay near where they live.”

“That makes me feel much better,” you answer honestly.

“You got nothing to worry about, and that’s a promise,” he grins, although he supposes coming from him that probably doesn’t mean much. Regardless, it makes you smile.

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” you offer again. He bites his lip, taking a moment to think.

“Sandy keeps a bag of candy in her cabinet,” he says, walking into the kitchen with you following close behind. He passes Valerie off to you and he chuckles under his breath at the state of his tie. He reaches up in the cabinet and pulls down a brown paper bag, filled with taffies and chocolates.

Something about this man who has a whole time scared of him playing with his niece and then stealing sweets from the cupboard is something you find so strangely endearing. He unwraps one of the brightly colored taffies and then puts the bag in his pocket.

“I gotta go,” he announces, “let me know if you hear from Sandy, yeah?”

“Of course,” you reply.

“Gonna head out to that scene, and do my report,” he discloses, not really sure why he’s telling you. “Then I have a meeting at the rectory about that fundraiser thing. Figure out security.”

“They need security at Bid-On-A-Basket?” you ask, with an eyebrow raised. He smiles.

“You going?” he asks, flirtatiously.

“Just seems weird to have police at a Church thing.”

“There’s been stupid fights,” he shrugs, “some guy will get outbid and cause a fuss. Nothing serious. Probably just gonna be me and a deputy in case. You going?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” you say sheepishly. “Why?”

He walks towards the front door, and you follow seeing him out.

“Cause I gotta know if I’ll be bidding on a basket,” he winks.

“You gonna start a fight if you don’t win it?” you joke.

“If it’s yours? Absolutely, darling.”

Taglist:

@adelaide-walker @thedepressolit @samanthadegaro @pyronack @greeneyedblondie44  @acciosiriusblack  @weenersoldierr @teenagemutant @witchybarb @iraot @my-love-darling @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @swiftieandthewintersoldier @letsfly-andbe-free @rebekahdawkins @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @hersilencedscreams @unsaltedalmonds @dangerdolns @vintagepigeon @bluebouquetcupcake29 @goslytherin @captainofallfandoms @buckistan @aynanasstuff @everything-is-all-clear @rosalynshields @tinynshykitten​ 

[aressss1]

Sweet Nothings

(God!Technoblade x Male!Reader)

Read Me on AO3!

~~~~~~

You were very content with your life in this tiny village. Business was at its peak, and you were well known amongst the people. You had your regulars that came in daily, and you even had found an apprentice to help you out around the shop. Niki, was a great apprentice, learning how to bake and tend to the bakery on her own. The eagerness in her actions made you confident that she would be just fine taking care of the place in your stead, when you needed a break once in a while.

 One early morning, when the world was still dark, you walked the cobblestone streets to your bakery. The warm glow of the over hanging lanterns washed over your form. There was a cold nip to the air as you walked. Letting your eyes wander, your eyes spot the decorations overhead. Festival decorations, for a festival made in celebration of the era of peace among your lands, and for the blood god.

Today was Niki’s first day alone in the bakery. Your job today was to set up a booth and run it for the festival. You had the perfect spot to entice travelers from across the world to eat your delicious baked goods. Town square was the perfect place, but you… had scored the place closest to the entrance of the town square to set up your booth. The area that had gotten the most foot traffic in festivals. You were excited for what could come of this. Your bakery could very well thrive off this one day alone!

 The bakery before you was already lit up. You smirked knowing that your apprentice had beaten you to the punch. You twisted the doorknob and walked in whistling a familiar tune, signifying to Niki that you weren’t some stranger just walking in.

 “Morning boss!” Niki leaned out from behind the doorway of the kitchen as she said it. “You’re looking really handsome today!” Her eyes sparkled and you smirked. The garb you had chosen for the festival cost you a pretty penny, but it was worth it.

 “Well, a man has gotta look his best for his business don’t you think?” You ran your fingers through your hair, before putting your chef’s hat on. “How many goods have you made so far this morning my dear?”

 The beginning of the morning went by smoothly. You had set up your booth while Niki had made quadruple the amount of baked goods that you normally made on a regular day. Festivals were good for business and you didn’t want to keep the people waiting. Now… You wished the middle of the day went just as smooth.

 More foot traffic meant more problems… Thieves taking from your stock, people touching everything they didn’t intend to buy, people who weren’t satisfied being rude, and so much more. You had your hands full with everything. By the end of the festival when lanterns were sent into the sky to celebrate the blood god keeping peace across the land, you were out of breath. Your booth had seen it’s last customer of the day, and your head was still reeling. But that didn’t stop you from lighting your own lantern. You let it go as you still stood next to your booth, unaware of the fact that eyes lingered over you, as you closed your eyes uttering your thanks to the very blood god who watched you with curious eyes.

 His eyes spotted your lantern ascending into the sky, he didn’t make himself known to you, He scanned over you once more before he followed the lantern’s light, awaiting the moment that it would come down. When it did, he looked at your handiwork adorning the material. Drawings and script told a story of your gratitude, that, without the peace that he had given, you would be a broken man with no passion in life. This peace gave you enough to stand on so you could pave your way into a successful business.

 A slight smile pulled at his lips, a mortal had piqued his interest, there was definitely more he wanted to know about you. He would rest now and make himself known to you later. He held onto your lantern, keeping it for himself.

 Days passed, and you struggled with the volume of customers who had come in. So each day you adjusted your inventory, to keep up with your customers. There were times when you could breath in between bursts of people. You could cry at the success from the booth just days before.

 On one of your breaks, you sat down on a stool to help ease the discomfort in your back. You had been on your feet the entire day and you needed this break. You reveled in the silence and peace, you closed your eyes, letting out a little sigh. When the door opened, and you heard the bell sound off, signifying a customer, you gave off a small, tired grunt.

 “Welcome to my bakery, how may I help you-” When you opened your eyes all the air left your lungs, and you couldn’t say any more. In front of you, stood a very tall man, with long pink hair, a golden crown that reminded you more of a circlet gilded his head. His ears were pointed and downturned, making it obvious he wasn’t human. His eyes rivalled the gold that sat atop his head. Deep purple to black armor hugged his body and a royal red cloak spilled from around his shoulders.

 His eyes studied your face, and you felt a blush redden your cheeks. He moved around your bakery in the most graceful way you had ever seen anyone move and you fought to regain your composure.

 “Make yourself at home, take a look around and if you need anything you can just ask.” You bowed your head to offer your respect to him. When his eyes searched over you once more you cleared your throat. Was this guy a soldier? A commander? His aura was one that suggested he was a man of power. Even so, this guy didn’t know what to get… His eyes wandered around looking at all the pastries and other baked goods, it was obvious he was having trouble deciding on what to get.

 “Would you like a sample?” You offered, you almost shrunk at the man’s gaze, but you didn’t let yourself falter you held out a cupcake for him to take, and when he took it, you felt your heartbeat in your ears. When he hesitantly took a bite, you visibly relaxed when he gave you a smile, crumbs falling from his lip.

 “I’ll take some more of these.” His deep voice shook you to your very core. Strangely, as much as this guy was intimidating… He was alluring, and you packaged up more cupcakes for him, giving him an extra one, because he was a first-time customer. Or… At least you told yourself that.

 “Thank you very much! Here is your order and should you come back you will be welcomed with open arms!” You told him your name as he held his hand out with his payment. When he dropped it into your hand your eyes widened and in the palm of your hand were three gold pieces. Your heart dropped and when you looked back up, he was gone. You charged mere copper for your goods, not gold??? You were dumbfounded.

 Months had passed, and the mysterious stranger came in each and every day. Ordering and trying new things from you. He had become a constant in your life, and you found yourself growing closer to him. You found out his name was Techno, and he was a war hero. You could tell he was leaving bits and pieces from you, but you figured if he wanted you to know he would tell you.

 One night you locked up your bakery, and you were just about to head home. Your steps echoing off the cobblestone path once more. You looked up to see Techno, knelt down in front of someone, holding out a loaf of bread out to a straggler down on his luck. You had sold Techno that bread earlier. You couldn’t help but feel the smile tug on your lips. Techno stood tall after the straggler thanked him profusely, his eyes finding yours. You felt your heartbeat faster, as he towered over you.

 “You have brought beauty into this world and it’s a crime not to share it.” Techno cocked his head at you, his hand resting on your cheek. “I would like to see more of the beauty you create.” He drops his hand from your face, holding it out for you to take.

 You sigh happily, intertwining your fingers with his, happy to follow him wherever he would lead you. He led you to a place where you could see every star, away from the village. Foliage surrounded you and it was a nice change of pace rather than the buildings around you.

 Techno looked at you, as you marveled at the scenery before you. He basked in your presence; you were such a breath of fresh air opposed to every other mortal around. He watched you make your way to a nearby stream, kneeling letting the cool water flow through your fingers. Techno summoned forth your lantern. When you stood and faced him again, you were shocked at the lantern in his hands.

 “How did you get that?” You felt heat rise up to your cheeks.

 “It tells a beautiful story.” He ignored your question, “Of a man, who was cast out based on his preferences… Going on a hard-earned journey to make a bakery. Determined to be successful, while hiding who you truly are, is… Tragic.” Techno cupped your cheek, his eyes boring into yours. “I do not wish to take credit for your hard work because I slaughter those who wish to upset the peace.”

 Your eyes widened; the blood god was real… And he was standing before you, gazing at you with a fond expression. This beautiful man before you stroked your cheek with his thumb, and you felt your tears coming forth. You were scared, scared to tell Niki of your preferences, in fear she would abandon you. If any of your patrons knew, your business would be ruined…

 “This world is filled with cruelty.” His words caused shivers to go up your spine. “I… want to shield you from that cruelty.” He leaned closer and closer to you, his lips just barely grazing yours. “If you’ll have me.” He barely whispered, but you heard him loud and clear. You threw your arms around his shoulders, standing on your tip toes to push your lips against his. That was when your tears spilled forth.

 The two of you, melted into each other, the moon above shone down on you. Before too long this towering blood god cradled you in his arms, your head resting on his chest plate. You thought you were content with your life before… What you had before couldn’t compare to what you had now. Technoblade the Blood God had fallen for a mortal, and no one could take you away from him.

[seasonofthewicth]

next to you

I’ve wanted to write this exact scenario for rowaelin for so long and today I was supposed to write for agkol so obviously this came out. Rowaelin - 2.4k

part 2

-

“It’s totally fine,” Aedion says, his broad arm a warm weight around her shoulders as they both take in the room before them. And the bed. Aelin doesn’t move to take a step any further than their perch in the doorway. “He’s away for the weekend, he won’t know.”

A more sober Aelin would probably protest, but as it is she’s had a couple too many glasses of wine and she really doesn’t fancy having to order an Uber back to her own place. 

She had come over to Aedion’s under the pretence of watching a movie with her cousin and his girlfriend, but she had made the first mistake of inviting Dorian who had made the second mistake of bringing the wine. 

One thing had led to another which had led to the four of them lying around in various states of non-sobriety in the roof garden of Aedion’s building. At one point she’d slung on his fleece for extra warmth as she curled into Lysandra’s side as they watched the stars. Aedion and Dorian had stood at the railings looking over the city, sharing a smoke as they spoke in voices too low for Aelin to hear. 

All in all, a good night.

The view from the roof terrace catches her breath each time she visits, it’s high enough to capture the lines of the city in all directions and being so high up, at such a step back, always feels like a breath of fresh air. 

Aedion has a cool apartment, one she wishes she could afford, with it’s basement gym, the scenic garden and it’s unfailing hot water system. It’s a shame she doesn’t spend more time here. 

She chews her lip as she takes in the tidy bedroom before her, the crisp green sheets on the bed, the orderly desk in the corner with only a laptop and a lamp atop it, the laundry hamper in the corner surely holding the dirty clothes that in Aelin’s place live on the floor until she can bring herself to wash them. 

It wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world to crash in Aedion’s roommate’s bed for the night. Like Aedion says, he’s away for the weekend and she can change the sheets afterwards so he'll never know she was there. 

She can’t believe she’s actually considering it but the wine is wearing off slightly now leaving her feeling like she wants to collapse into the giant bed and bury herself beneath the covers. 

“Well,” Aedion says from her side, his voice only slightly slurred. “It’s here if you want it. I’m going to hit the hay. Whatever you decide, don’t walk home. I can call you a cab.”

“You’re sure he’s away for the weekend?” Aelin says as she shrugs out from underneath his arm. 

“Hundred percent,” Aedion nods as she steps closer towards the welcoming bed. 

Well, it’s decided then.

“Ah,” Aelin moans as she finally collapses onto the bed. She can’t believe she ever considered getting a taxi home, the sheets beneath her cheek are luxuriously soft and the mattress - gods the mattress. She could sink into it and stay here forever, it cups and moulds around each of her curves and she can’t help the sigh of satisfaction that slips out of her.  

Aedion’s laugh sounds from behind her as he shuts the door. “Night, Ae.”

Her own response is muffled into the brushed cotton beneath her. She lies still for a moment, resting her eyes as the buzz of the booze settles into her. There’s a thrumming beneath her skin, and the room spins somewhat as she lays still with her eyes shut gently against the sensations. Her fingertips are definitely tingling, a sign that she knows she’ll feel rotten in the morning, but for now the bliss of a dark room and a soft bed beneath her are all that her mind can care to contemplate.

It’s been a while since she’s hung out with her cousin, both of them just busy, and she’s missed him. She’s missed the easy companionship they have and the slick conversations they have, only aided tonight by the presence of Dorian and Lysandra and the wine. 

She snorts a laugh into the sheets and the movement causes the button of her jeans to dig into her stomach. She forces herself up with a groan and just manages to tug off the stiff denim, slinging the offending item across the room somewhere.

She laughs to herself at the thought of her already messing up such a clean room. 

She doesn’t know Aedion’s roommate that well. She knows he’s called Rowan, and that he’s twenty-eight and now she knows that he has a disgustingly tidy room. Or he did, she adds to herself as she throws her top to the other side of the room. 

Rowan only moved in with her cousin a couple of months ago, but from his room she can guess he’s uptight and quite possibly deathly boring. How Aedion lives with someone like that she doesn’t know, Aelin’s own roommates - Manon and Elide - are the perfect level of chaos with just enough order to function. 

Aelin considers her options as she slumps on the corner of his bed, clad only in her underwear. Sleeping in a bra is uncomfortable but would she want to be naked in this stranger’s bed? Whether or not she changes the sheets afterwards he could be sweaty or gross or worse. He could have had guests in this bed before her. 

Her gaze lands on a chest of drawers tucked against the wall on the far side of the room and before she knows she’s tiptoeing across and tugging open a drawer. Bingo. In-keeping with the rest of the room there are rows and rows of neatly folded t-shirts and before she can second guess herself she tugs out a black one, tugging it over herself before slipping off her bra and dropping it to the floor. 

Another thing she’s learning tonight about Aedion’s mysterious roommate? He’s absolutely huge. 

Aelin is far above average height for a woman and still, Rowan’s t-shirt hits mid thigh. She feels somewhat scandalous, in his room and wearing his clothes without his knowledge. A thought pops into her mind before she can help it - she hopes he doesn’t have a girlfriend. 

Aelin launches herself back at the bed, sliding into the sleek sheets before flicking off the light at her side. She nestles in tightly, burrowing into the deliciously inviting bed and takes a deep breath. Gods this Rowan person smells good too. 

She relaxes into the softness of the sheets and the euphoria that is lying on his mattress. In combination with the wine it doesn’t take her long at all to drift off. 

When she wakes Aelin is aware of two things. 

Firstly, her mouth tastes like shit. That would be the wine and not brushing her teeth the night before.

Secondly, she’s not alone. 

It takes her a few beats to realise, but there’s a strong arm slung around her waist, tucking her into a broad chest. A puff of breath dashes across her neck as the man takes each slow, deep breath as he slumbers behind her. 

Aelin lays still for a moment, her brain not yet fully turned on. 

She definitely went to bed alone, but maybe-

“Dorian?” She whispers into the dark, trying to roll over to see him, but the strong arm around her waist is clamped too tightly for her to get anything more than a glance. She has no idea where Dorian ended up last night but it wouldn’t be the first time they had ended up in bed together.

“Dorian?” She tries again and the man behind her shifts allowing her an eyeful of the top of the head tucked into the crook of her neck. 

Well, the man with the silver hair is definitely not Dorian, and as he shifts he tugs her tighter against him and shit. The pressure of morning wood against her backside is unmistakable. 

Aelin’s mouth goes dry as her traitorous body grinds back into it, her ass rubbing against the hard length. 

Nope. 

“Hey,” She whispers, louder this time as she tries to pry his hand from her waist. “Wake up.”

The man shifts, rolling back slightly away from her, his hand sliding up from her waist to sit on her hip. A low moan sounds from the back of his throat as he begins to wake and damn if Aelin doesn’t clamp her thighs together at the sound. 

She finally manages to wrestle herself up onto her elbows and she twists around to get a look at the man she definitely did not share a bed with last night when she went to sleep. 

Yet another thing she’s learning about Aedion’s roommate Rowan? He’s fucking gorgeous. 

In the dim light of the morning she can make out the sharp line of his jaw and the full curve of his lips, even as they twist into a slight frown. His silver brows are drawn together as he shifts and as his eyes flutter open she’s greeted by the most striking green eyes she’s ever seen. 

“What the fuck?” Even his voice is sexy, the low rasp sending shivers down her spine, heat sparking from the hand still resting on her hip. 

As though they remember that point of contact at the same time he jerks his hand back and repeats his earlier question. “Who are you?” He hisses. 

“I’m Aelin.” She says as though it’s the most obvious answer. “What are you doing in here?”

He lets out a disbelieving laugh and Aelin curses herself for how hot she finds it. Objectively, she is in the wrong, but she’s going to blame Aedion. 

“What am I doing here?” He says. “This is my bed. What are you doing here?”

Aelin shrugs as if this is a regular occurrence, “Aedion said I could crash here.”

Rowan lifts his hand to draw it across his face, letting out another dark curl of laughter as he rolls onto his back, seemingly needing a minute to process the situation he has found himself in. Aelin catches the shadows of dark ink down his arm and curses her cousin for not introducing them earlier, she’s quite enjoying her morning. 

“Did he now?”

She’s very much aware that she’s still tucked into his side, his right arm curled beneath her pillow as he lays back. She drops herself down from her elbows, her head is aching and Rowan doesn’t seem to be making sense of this any time soon so she may as well get comfortable.

He doesn’t shy away from her, in fact his thumb brushes against the cotton of his t-shirt covering her shoulder. 

Rowan pulls his hand away from his face and tilts his head to face her fully. 

Those green eyes make her feel like she’s caught in the most enticing of traps. She couldn’t look away if she tried. 

“Are you wearing my shirt?” He asks, and Aelin shrugs as she glances down at herself. 

It’s a glance that allows her the knowledge that Rowan himself is not wearing a shirt and the broad, muscular planes of his chest start her heart beating quickly. The ink on his arm stretches onto his upper chest and Aelin wants to touch. 

“You should be thankful,” She says. “I almost didn’t.” 

Rowan opens his mouth to say something, but then seems to change his mind. Instead he shifts up onto an elbow and rolls over so that he’s leaning towards her. Aelin can’t stop her brain from imagining how it would feel if he slipped his thigh between hers. How she could shuffle down slightly to press his leg right where she wants it, and the darkening of Rowan’s eyes tells her he’s contemplating giving her exactly what she wants. 

When his eyes flick to her lips Aelin wishes she’d bothered to brush her teeth last night. 

This is not where she saw her morning going when she was too lazy to call a cab last night but she’s far from complaining. 

The cocky smile that slips onto his lips has her mouth dropping open. Short, sharp breaths draw her chest up and down and Rowan glances down to where she’s not wearing a bra beneath his t-shirt and the sleepy but still predatory smile grows. 

Aelin can’t draw her eyes away from that smile, away from the wicked curve of his lips as his leg shifts closer to her beneath the covers. 

“Aelin, are you-” The burst of light that fills the room as Aedion barges in burns her eyes and Aelin squeezes her eyes shut tight against it. 

“Um, I… Rowan?” Her cousin manages, still frozen in the doorway. 

Aelin knows what this looks like, Rowan is almost on top of her and she knows she’s flushed from his proximity. 

He clears his throat as he eases back away from her, the cool air that fills the space between them clears her head enough for her eyes to flicker open. 

“Yeah, I decided to come home last night instead.” His voice is tight, Aelin notes with a hint of pride. “Didn’t know you were offering out my bed while I was gone.”

Aelin can only bite her lip in what she hopes in a not-guilty expression. From the pure bewilderment clouding Aedion’s expression she’s not sure she achieves it. 

“You weren’t supposed to be back until later,” Aedion says, his voice still sounding strangled. “I wasn’t expecting this to happen.” 

Aelin snorts, tugging herself up to sit against the headboard, her thigh pressing against Rowan’s bare shoulder. His green eyes dart to the point of contact before locking onto her own and that gaze makes Aelin blush all over again. 

Rowan huffs a laugh as Aelin says, “Yeah, me neither.” 

She can’t draw her eyes away from Rowan’s face. She doesn’t care that he’s probably boring or uptight as she guessed in her snooping through his bedroom last night as long as he keeps on looking at her like that. 

“Aedion,” She says in a low voice as she manages to draw her gaze from Rowan, who’s firm shoulder is brushing against her thigh beneath the duvet. “Get out.”

[permanentcrossfics]

Blurred Lines: A Different Christmas // h.s.

How do we write Christmas fics in a really weird year? I’m still not sure, but I tried to string together a bit of relief for the end of December. I’m shutting myself up now, even though there’s lots I want to say. This is for anyone who wants it, anyone who needs it, anyone who enjoys it (or hates it!) silently and vocally alike. My Christmas gift is the happy and unexpected bonus of anyone reading what I have so much selfish fun thinking of and spinning out. Happy and Merry Christmas if you celebrate it, and a happy and merry end of December if you don’t and are just doing you! x

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It was the big Christmas tree you’d dragged back home by yourself on top of a rickety shopping cart all the way from a place on Second Avenue that had been your breaking point. Picking it had its own bittersweet undertones, but the smell of fresh pine tickling your nose even through a mask had kept you afloat as you struggled to get it off and onto curbs before traffic pancaked you in the middle of the road. It wasn’t until you were back inside, still wrapped in your coat and struggling to get it upright in the stand the correct way that you burst into a torrent of hot, selfish tears and bowed your head, kneeling next to the mass of needles and branches. He should be here! He should be helping you. He should’ve helped anchor lights in windows, he should’ve had an opinion on the scented candles, he should’ve made you go back for decorations you just weren’t sure of because you wanted them regardless of what he thought, and he should’ve helped pick, and carry, and set up the tree. The whole reason you’d gone out to get a fresh tree – something real in a year that had felt anything but – was to lift your spirits, but instead you were sobbing next to it and it all felt a little dramatically pointless. It was everything you’d avoided last year by flying off to England but that you couldn’t escape this time. What was the point? What was the point of pretending?

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“You coming home with me this year?” 

Again. He asked the same question you’ve been dodging for weeks since plans had started to look uncertain again, not because he was pestering you, but because somehow, some way, you were both hoping for an answer with a loophole. 

“I can’t,” you said softly, regretfully, holding your phone close to your face with one arm as you curled up under the duvet of a bed in an apartment that had somehow become yours together instead of his alone throughout the course of a very new, very different, very unsettling year. “For a few reasons.” 

And he knew that. 

Harry’s deep breath crackled and he dragged his hand down his face, holding it there as he shook his head, the thought processes you’d learned to read so well hidden from view. 

You’d liked going home with him last year -- loved it, even. You’d hardly had time to look forward to a repeat when the world had flipped in the first quarter or sooner, and the sand had just kept slipping through the hourglass until all time for hope of a new and normal Christmas was gone and sucked away into the void of the year. 

So many plans. So many memories that lived only as memories of daydreams now. So much else, so much more important, devastating, and tragic you couldn’t even put it into words and, frankly, didn’t want to. Not now -- you spent too much time thinking about it to think about it now, too.

“Filming’s done soon,” he said from behind his hand. “I can book my flight to New York--”

“Harry--”

“And then go to Manchester after Christmas -- after the New Year, we always take a bit of a longer break. Mum won’t mind--”

“Your mother’s barely seen you since last Christmas,” you said. “Your sister, too, and there’s not enough time to--”

“Course there is!”

“Two weeks quarantine in each?” you asked. “That’s a month of staying put, let alone--”

A split second glance at his face was all you saw before the screen went black and you bit your tongue. He hadn’t hung up, because you’d heard the soft thud when his phone collided with his chest, and you could hear him breathing now, so you waited, suppressing your own urge to snap as he had his. Despite having spent the better part of the year together, it was frustrating to think about not being together for the season. All you wanted was him, though you knew better than to voice it out loud. He’d do it -- for you, he’d do it if you asked him to -- and you’d have to live with the guilt of taking him away from his family at the time of year where family should be together most, if it mattered to them. And you’d been weirdly lucky enough to have him most of the year between carefully navigated business trips. He was only one man with one body. It didn’t -- couldn’t -- matter that you wanted him, too. 

That you wanted to be with the man you loved. 

When he picked up the phone again, his face was drawn, tired, and not just from filming, you suspected. 

“Go home,” you urged, swallowing the break in your voice. “You miss home, and home misses you. I’ll have fun decorating and send you all the pictures you won’t be able to do anything about.” 

His throat bobbed hard, audibly, and his eyes looked dangerously shiny. 

“Next year I’ll go home with you,” you said, burrowing half your face into your pillow. “London and Holmes Chapel both.”

“Next year,” he said eventually, voice raspy. “We’ll have Christmas at home next year.” 

You nodded, forcing the lump rising up, up, and up back down. “You should go to sleep,” you said. “It’s late and you have to be up early.”

“Later for you,” he said and you sighed, noting the 3:08 timestamp at the top of your screen. 

“Let’s go,” you said. “Call me when you can.” 

“I will.” Sad, but resigned. You wanted to reach through the screen and touch the downturned corners of his mouth to push them back upright again. “Sleep well, and I love you.” 

Taking a deep breath, you murmured, “I love you, too,” before hanging up the call and the room descended into darkness and you into a fitful sleep. 

***

At first, you were determined to make the most of it. Your studio had always been small, cozy, and Christmasy to the best of your abilities, but his -- your -- apartment had so many more possibilities. Candles were the first to be set out, with strategic clusters of red, green, and gold-colored wax placed all about and nestled in fake holly wreaths. String lights that cast a pretty glow lined windows even in the bedroom for some last minute holiday cheer, and despite the urge to drive him up a wall, you did your best to only pick out other decorations that you’d both like and want to use in the future. Because as much as you might avoid talking about it in many certain terms the longer the relationship went on (it still felt so funny to think that a one night stand had turned into a relationship), there was a future. He was your future. It wasn’t your first Christmas together, but it might be your last one apart. 

It was the big Christmas tree you’d dragged back home by yourself on top of a rickety shopping cart all the way from a place on Second Avenue that had been your breaking point. Picking it had its own bittersweet undertones, but the smell of fresh pine tickling your nose even through a mask had kept you afloat as you struggled to get it off and onto curbs before traffic pancaked you in the middle of the road. It wasn’t until you were back inside, still wrapped in your coat and struggling to get it upright in the stand the correct way that you burst into a torrent of hot, selfish tears and bowed your head, kneeling next to the mass of needles and branches. 

He should be here! He should be helping you. He should’ve helped anchor lights in windows, he should’ve had an opinion on the scented candles, he should’ve made you go back for decorations you just weren’t sure of because you wanted them regardless of what he thought, and he should’ve helped pick, and carry, and set up the tree. The whole reason you’d gone out to get a fresh tree -- something real in a year that had felt anything but -- was to lift your spirits, but instead you were sobbing next to it and it all felt a little dramatically pointless. It was everything you’d avoided last year by flying off to England but that you couldn’t escape this time. What was the point? What was the point of pretending? 

Wiping your nose, you stood, eyes heavy, swollen, and itchy. With your coat gone, you heaved the tree up until it was sitting securely in its stand, needles scattered in its wake but branches full and outstretched, enveloping you in the warm smell of Christmas in a way the cedar- and balsam-scented candles couldn’t. Stepping back with your hands on your hips, you looked up at it, the swell of your anxiety simmering, thanks partly to your crying fit and partly to succeeding at the task. You’d decorate it bit by bit to draw the season out, and then on Christmas Eve, you’d call him and you’d both sit by your own trees and talk until it was Christmas Day for him. It was just for now -- this wasn’t the way of all ways for all time. 

Click.

You nearly passed out cold from the rush of fearful adrenaline shooting through you when the lock on the door clicked. In three seconds, you ran through whether or not you’d locked the door, determined that you had but then had forgotten, and figured out that somehow, someone had gotten in and they weren’t supposed to. You spun, frozen, brain zooming to determine if you dove behind a sofa or if you charged, but you didn’t get the chance before the door opened. 

A duffle bag, a foot, a body, in that order, and then a pair of wide, green eyes rimmed with circles just above a cloth mask.

“You do not get to be mad at me,” he said, voice muffled. He grunted and pushed the door open wider to bring in the rest of his luggage as you stood there, as equally speechless as you were breathless. “I tested before I came here,” he said, speaking with a loud if exhausted sort of authority, like he was trying to get the words out before you could protest. “But I’ll take the guest room, and I’ll get my own food, and we’ll keep out of each other’s space until the two weeks are up.” 

He brought his bags in the rest of the way, and it was only when he was halfway by you that he stopped in his tracks. “Y’haven’t moved,” he said, eyebrows furrowing as he narrowed his eyes on you. “Are you all right?” 

Lightheaded, you nodded. 

“O… kay,” he said, stilted, still eyeing you. “M’just gonna go get settled and showered, then.” 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, the words finally forcing themselves from you. 

“S’Christmas.”

“You’re supposed to--”

“Mum knows,” he interrupted. “M’taking Christmas here this year. Gem’ll have Christmas with her and I’ll go along after. She’s excited about having two. ‘Scuse me….” 

Nodding, you waved him away to hurry, shoo, because you could feel the emotions rising in you again and your confusion wasn’t enough to quell them. Fifteen minutes ago, you’d been kneeling on the floor with aching knees, crying, and now here he was. 

You’d wrestle with the confliction of doing what was right and doing what you wanted… later. Later, when you could wrap your head around it and the choice he’d made. 

Two weeks. That would put you just on Christmas Day, basically. Just two weeks.

***

Dodging him around the apartment was a lot more difficult than you would’ve guessed for how big it was. More than once you nearly slammed into him in the kitchen, and someone was always in the favored bathroom. For his part, he’d taken to wearing a mask when he roamed, and even though you told him he didn’t have to do that, all he did was hum behind it. You got it -- the positive result from the crewperson on set had spooked everyone, and he was being safe. You both were being safe, but for as mindful as you’d been throughout, all you wanted to do was hold him, hug him, kiss him. Video calls were ridiculous when you were in the same house and you could hear his laugh through the walls. But you got it, and if you kicked too much he’d book a hotel to quarantine away from you, so you’d rather have him here, as selfish and risky as it was. 

It was three days into your little bubble that he finally dared to get within arm’s reach of you. You were mulling over where to put the chimney sweep ornament when he shuffled over to the foot of the ladder you were leaning on, and you raised an eyebrow, arm outstretched.

“Can I help you?” you asked.

He shook his head, the lights from the tree reflected in his eyes. “Just watching,” he said from behind his mask. 

“You’re standing a little close, aren’t you?” you teased. Jokes were all you had -- all anyone had this year, if they were lucky. 

Immediately, he scowled -- how funny you could tell what his face looked like so clearly even with the cloth stretched firmly across it -- and you giggled. “Watch what you’re doing,” he said, taking his hands from his sweatshirt pocket to grab the ladder legs, and with his support, you held on tightly and leaned over to place it on the prime branch. 

“Thank you,” you said. “Do you want to pass me that box?” 

He did so and you murmured your thanks, resting it on the top step as you pulled ornaments out to hang them. 

“Not there,” he said before you could drop a hook over a branch with a snowflake. “Give it… thank you.” He took it carefully from you and placed it on a different one closer to him, lower than where you were placing it but slightly higher than you could reach without a ladder. 

“Thank you.” 

Together, slowly, ornaments were hooked and rehooked (and rehooked yet again when one of you noticed the other had moved them from a spot you each thought was perfect) until the tree was trimmed, each branch heavily laden, bearing the weight of ornaments and of providing joy after the year behind. 

“How’d you get this home?” he asked, looking up at it with you once you were off the ladder. 

“Carefully,” you said dryly. “Oh! The top.” You turned, but he cut across your path.

“I’ve got it,” he said, grabbing the box from the precarious stack next to the coffee table. 

“I want to,” you whined and he snorted.

“You’ve done the whole bloody thing,” he said without venom. “Let me do just the one.” With it in hand, he climbed the ladder as you held it steady, and he set it on the topmost branch, prodding it until it was tall and straight up, all five points outstretched and shining. 

“That’s perfect,” you said under your breath, resting your head on his leg, and he patted the top of your head gently. You stayed like that for a minute, two, three, and more, with your arm curling around his calf, embracing as much physical contact as he’d allowed since he came home. “How many more days?”

“Eleven.” He sounded thoughtful, resentful, and exhausted all in one go. You squeezed his leg and kissed his knee through his joggers. 

“Then it’s Christmas,” you said.

He exhaled slowly, still patting your head. “Christmas morning.” 

***

Eleven. Whole. Days. 

Eleven days of more of the same. He’d eased up, thankfully, and dared to venture a little closer with a mask on, because, as you’d reminded him, he had tested negative. You sat on opposite ends of the couch, enjoying the Christmas tree and decorations together, laughing, talking, planning, and exchanging stories about everything that had happened while you were apart. His, of course, were wildly more interesting, but he somehow managed to hang onto every word of even your most droll and mundane ones, and always with the right questions and supportive murmurs of agreement as necessary. 

Eleven days of saying goodnight and crawling into a bed that was too big for one when two was next door. 

Eleven days of not being able to share meals properly or touch each other -- sex aside -- and eleven days of Hell.

“It’s your fault,” you said one night from your end of the couch, scowling with your arms crossed. The tree twinkled happily despite your sour mood, and music that was too merry and bright played from the television. 

“Me?” he asked indignantly. 

“Yes! You had to do that stupid film.” 

“It’s not stupid.”

“You’re wearing a mask in our home,” you said, burrowing into the cushions. “If I want to call it stupid, I will.” 

He groaned, dropping his head forward. “Baby….”

You grunted. 

“It’s only a couple more days. A couple more days, and then it’s Christmas. Think of it like a present you’re waiting for.”

Despite yourself, you snorted. 

“I’m all you want for Christmas, aren’t--?”

“Shut up,” you said, kicking his thigh with your extended leg. He snickered, eyes crinkled and full of light all their own. 

“Couple more days,” he said, patting your ankle. “Couple more days, and then you won’t even be able to get rid of me. We’ll be in bed all weekend.”

“I’m not calling your mother from bed.”

He waggled his brows with some exaggeration and you rolled your eyes. 

That had been around day five, maybe six. Suffice it to say, by Christmas Eve, you were done. 

“It’s one day!” you said over breakfast in the kitchen. “One day, Harry!” 

“We made it this long,” he said, pouring hot coffee into a mug that had his face printed onto the head of dancing elf -- a gift from his mother shipped along with a matching one for you that she insisted you both open ahead of time to enjoy for as long as possible. “We can make it a couple more hours.”

“If I stripped naked, what would you do? Stand there and watch me?” 

He froze and looked at you over his mask, the heated warning pinning you in place. Huffing, you pushed the stool away from the counter and hopped off it.

“Where are you--?”

“Out,” you said. “I’m going to get--” You floundered. “Coffee.” 

A beat passed and his eyes dropped to the mug in his hand.

“We literally have--”

“I’m going out!” you said, wrapping your neck and half your face up in a scarf to keep warm. You were going out, because you were mad, and the tantrum was burgeoning. That poor man had seen more unreasonable tantrums from you this year than he had in the entire two and a half you’d reciprocally acknowledged each other’s presence, and you hated it. But he’d hate it, too, if you’d gone on a trip for work and come back and things were off.

Could be worse, you reminded yourself. It could be so very, very much worse.

“I love you,” you said, calmly, firmly. “I’ll be back. I’m only going around the block. Take that--” You waved at his mask, “--off. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way in..” 

When you returned, he was in the guest room, but a fresh cup of coffee in your own dancing elf mug rested on a mug warming plate. The last of your frustrations that hadn’t melted with the walk deflated and you picked it up, enjoying the aroma before taking a deep sip. 

He always made it better. And the coffee was nice, too. 

His mother called in the afternoon and you hardly noticed he was at your side until the phone was in front of your face and you gave a startled hello. 

“Has he been wearing that the whole time he’s been home with you?” she asked, her gleaming eyes and wide, genuine smile matching her son’s own warmth. 

Home. With you. 

“He has,” you said. 

“S’posed to be proud of me,” Harry said and Anne laughed.

“Of course, sweetheart. We’re still calling tomorrow?” she asked you. 

“Yeah,” you said. “We’ll be here.”

“Next year will be different, won’t it?” she all but clucked. “Did you like your mugs? I got one for me, Gemma, and Michal, too.” 

“Used them just this morning,” he said, squeezing your hip and wandering away. “Won’t be posting them anywhere for people to see, though….” 

Eventually -- finally -- the day drew to a close, and you crawled into bed with the knowledge that it was just one more night. One more night, and then in the morning you could say hello like you wanted to. One more night and you wouldn’t want to bite his head off. One more night and you wouldn’t feel so mental, as he would put it. 

And yet, lying there, the minutes dragged. Ten? No, just one. Fifteen? Five. 

It felt like Christmas, though. As much as this was pure torture, this was what Christmas was supposed to feel like -- like it used to feel when you were a kid and you’d wait for weeks tingling anticipation, counting down, hoping that you’d find what you wanted under the tree, bursting with more energy than any amount of sugar could give you. Except instead of presents, or money, or sweets, you were waiting for the man who’d been under your nose for two weeks by this point. You got to kiss your boyfriend tomorrow. You got to see your boyfriend, hold your boyfriend, and celebrate Christmas with your boyfriend. 

Twenty minutes? Two. 

12:02.

Two minutes after midnight.

Christmas.

Fourteen days. 

Oh!

You sprang from the bed before you could think about the matter and darted to the door over the cold wooden floor, but when you rounded the corner in the hallway, out of nowhere, something all but slammed into you. Sucking in a sharp breath with a screwed up face, you squeaked when you collided with a very warm, very sturdy frame. Belatedly, two arms shot out to grab you by yours to steady you. “Oh my God, I--”

Hair, forehead, eyes, nose, and mouth, too. No mask. 

“Are you o--?”

He didn’t get to finish his question. You clapped your hands over his cheeks and kissed him soundly before he could kiss you first. Under ordinary circumstances, he’d laugh -- you both would -- but rather than that, he locked both his arms around you tightly and spun you, teetering precariously with you in tow until you got to the guest bed. Tackle was an apt word for how he delivered you to it, but you were the farthest thing from upset at finally having not even an inch of space between you. The bed smelled like him and it was warm, he was warm, and you were kissing again, and again, and again, cold noses smushing together as you found new angles. 

“Christmas,” he mumbled between them.

“Mmhm,” you returned against his mouth, legs interlocking with his. “I missed you,” you whispered.

“Missed you, too.” 

Shivering, you both pulled the duvet up over your shoulders, and you curled up against him. Cologne, skin, and laundry detergent, with a bit of his minty toothpaste. There was no scented candle for that. You pressed your fingers against his chest and scratched lightly through the smattering of hair there. “We could go to our bed,” you reminded him, but he shook his head.

“Y’here now,” he rasped, leaning in to press his lips comfortably to your hairline, one arm draped over your back. “Let’s stay here tonight and we can change things later.” 

“Were you coming to get me?” you asked, voice shaking as the last of the shivers left your bones. 

“Yeah,” he admitted. You laughed, teeth chattering, and he pulled you closer. “Don’t laugh!” he said, rubbing your back and warming you. “S’been two weeks for me, hasn’t it?”

“For you!”

“You try bein’ home with you for that long,” he mumbled. 

Shaking again, but less than before, you kissed the underside of his chin. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, darling.” 

***

When you woke up, his back was to you, and his one shoulder was rising and falling with the rhythm of his sputtery, wheezy snores. You smiled, closing your eyes, and snuggled into the pillow. Better -- much better. You dozed on for an unknown amount of time, and you were walking the line between sleep and consciousness when featherlight kisses across your brow startled you and you jerked awake.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled, only sounding slightly truthful. You made a noise and stretched, shaking from head to toe before curling up into a tight little ball next to him and opening your eyes fully. His own were puffy with sleep, but he grinned radiantly as if he’d been awake for a while.

“What?” you asked in a croak.

“Nothing,” he said. “Mum’s gonna call soon.”

Groaning, you halfheartedly turned your head to look over your shoulder. “What time is it?” you asked, straining to see the window and get a gauge. 

“S’ten,” he said. “So about three for them. Sure you don’t want to call from bed?” 

You glowered at him and his lip twitched. “I’ll put the coffee on.” 

When you finally managed to leave the warm nest of the bed, the living room had been transformed. The tree was on, twinkling under the streams of light pouring in through the windows, and he’d lit the fireplace, too, flames licking up and up behind the glass. Soft, melodic Christmas music floated from the far corners of the room, and the smell of coffee tickled your nose. 

“So,” he said from his spot at the island as he unwrapped cheeses and opened jars of olives, and jams, and honeys, and other goodies. “What time do we pop the bubbly?” 

Laughing softly, you shuffled over. “It’s ten.”

“Little after ten now,” he said, lips pressed tightly together and arms flexed until the lid popped. “And somewhere in the world it’s five o’clock.” 

You pulled a grape off the bunch lying on the counter and popped it into your mouth, chewing not so delicately but enjoying the sweet burst of freshness. You’d no sooner swallowed than his phone started buzzing and you grabbed it, sliding your finger to answer the call from the incoming Mum and pointing it at him.

“Happy Christmas, honey.” Anne’s voice was warm even through the phone, and Harry’s head whipped up.

“Wh-- Happy Christmas-- didn’t know you were-- ‘scuse the mess,” he said as you giggled behind the phone. 

“Having a good morning so far?” 

“Goin’ ok, yeah,” he said. “Just getting started, heating up the coffee.”

“Where’s your better half gotten off to?” 

Trying not to melt, you waved your hand in front of the camera. 

“Hello, love,” she said. “Happy Christmas.” 

“Happy Christmas, Anne.”

“Are we going to get to see you today?”

“Fair’s fair,” Harry chimed in. “Turn that thing around, why don’t you?” 

Rolling your eyes, you flipped the phone and waved, sliding around the counter to stand next to him. 

“That’s better,” Anne said with a firm nod. She had a red top on with a festive, sparkly necklace, and looked a good deal more put together than either one of you.

“Where’s Gem?” Harry asked, taking the phone from you so you could unbox the crackers. 

“Upstairs napping off the morning,” she said. “She’ll want to call again later.” 

And that was how the morning went, with each of you passing his mother back and forth while you carried plates and trays full of snacks to the coffee table and couch in front of the tree to nibble while tearing into gifts on camera, including a box full of chocolates for you, Branston pickle for him, and Christmas crackers for both of you to have, “A little bit of home this year.”

“Thank you,” you said, clutching your sweets close. “And thank you for--” Unbidden, you choked up, and Harry glanced at you sharply, his inquisition vanishing with his understanding. For sharing him -- allowing you to steal him away during the holidays in a year where everyone needed family, either by blood or choice. He squeezed your shoulders and his mother, as adept as he was at redirecting a conversation, piped up. 

“Promise you’ll come see us again next year,” Anne said. “It’s been too long.”

“It has been,” you agreed, resting your cheek on his shoulder. 

“Maybe sooner.” Harry looked down at you. “If things ease up?” 

You nodded. “Summer in London,” you mused. “That would be nice.”

“And then a bit of time back home. We could go before things pick up in August.”

Summer in London. A beacon of hope you couldn’t erect just yet, but a beacon nevertheless. A bit of time with him before he, hopefully, went back to work and you got to revisit adjusted and postponed plans. 

The rest of your Christmas Day was quiet -- different from the year before when you’d been overwhelmed with names, faces, screeches of Uncle Harry, and not being sure how to break your way in. You kept trays of cheese, crackers, and other snacks within an arm’s reach, and by the early afternoon both of you had a comfortably steady buzz from the bubbly he was good at topping off both your glasses with -- never sloppily drunk, but enough to be warm in your fingers and toes and to seek out cuddles from him under the blanket you were snuggled in on the sofa with paper crowns on both your heads. 

“Can I tell you something?” you asked, ribs crunched from how far you’d slid down on the sofa to nestle into his side, all but eye-level with his chest. “And have it not be as awful as it sounds?” 

You felt his laugh before you heard it. “Sure,” he drawled. “What is it?” 

Squeezing his wrist, you turned your mouth into his forearm, eyes on the television as a snowman leapt and bounded over a wide, snowy plain before jumping into the air. “I like this Christmas,” you admitted into his skin. 

Harry snorted. “S’not awful, s’the point -- Christmas is supposed to be likeable.”  

“You know what I mean,” you said, sighing. “I know it’s just us and there’s no family or anyone around, but… I dunno… it’s not all bad, is it?” 

“Like having me to yourself?” 

You groaned and rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Shut up,” you mumbled. 

He kissed the top of your head, crown crunching under it, and you grunted. “S’not so bad,” he said into your hair. “Like having you all to myself, too, y’know.” 

“You’re just saying that because you have to because you’re stuck with me,” you said and he laughed with another smacking kiss. 

“Not stuck with me yet,” he crooned. “Can leave any time you want.” 

“Maybe I will….”

“Oi!”

Giggling, you untangled yourself from him and squirmed out from underneath the blanket. “More bubbly?” 

***

Boxing Day was a Christmas redux, with more cheese, sparkling wine, music, and calls with family and friends. Long distance versions of old favorite games were adapted and adopted, and you snickered quietly from the corner of the couch, staying out of his way when he shouted about how he had hit the button, it was his trackpad that hadn’t worked. 

The late afternoon and on, though, was yours together and alone with the time difference breaking up the party earlier than it normally would be. The bittersweet cloud vanished, though, when you at some point you separated even further into your own activities -- him with his stack of new books and you with a film you played quietly on your laptop. Able to be near each other without having to be wrapped up and begging with your bodies for sorely missed attention, it finally, really, felt like home again. 

“It’s so pretty out,” you murmured, nose pressed to the windowpane to see as much of the light-lined streets as you could. It got dark earlier and earlier these days, and yet later than it had even a few days ago. “I love Christmas in New York. I wish--” You caught yourself ahead of finishing the sentence, thinking better. 

You wished it was a normal year -- for many reasons -- so you two could go out and see the city. So you could show him your favorite places, so you could make memories together like you had with him last year. It wasn’t anything life altering or new, but it was different when you were with someone you loved. You wanted him to know you -- all of you, even the unknowable parts. 

“Y’know,” he said next to your ear, hand on the back of your neck as he slunk up behind you, “it’s getting pretty late.”

You turned your head slightly, looking at him in the reflection of the glass. “Do you want to go to bed?” 

Too early for sleep. Was he asking for sex? 

Harry hummed and shook his head. “How ‘bout you get your coat on?” he murmured. “Let’s have that Boxing Day walk we didn’t get last year.”

“Now?”

“When else?” he said. “Haven’t been out yet, and it’s late. Streets’ll be empty. We can go wherever, do whatever, see whatever.” 

“You’re serious?” 

Nodding, he pulled you by the arm and you stumbled with him, still processing it even as you pulled beanies on with masks and (winter) gloves.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

He shrugged, calling the elevator. “Dunno,” he said. “Figured you’d lead the way. Show me your favorite bits. Seem t’remember summat about Bryant Park last year.” 

There were sobering realities at the street level, too. Gates were down on storefronts that hadn’t been pulled up since March, awnings above them tattered from months of neglect and ‘For Rent’ signs flapping against them in the wind. The usual post-holiday influx of tourists was thinned, with hardly a white sneaker in sight, and everything was just a little quieter than it should be and would be in a usual year.

But there were lights. Broadway’s may have dimmed for the time being, but endless, endless displays of lights, brighter without the ambient light pouring from storefronts diminishing their power, offered beacons of hope -- literal lighthouses in a storm of a year -- and led you uptown like a trail of breadcrumbs. 

You pulled him this way and that way, weaving through side streets to look at any display that looked bright enough from a distance, fingers locked tightly with his in a way they never were outside of the house. As bittersweet as it was no one was out, it afforded you a level of privacy you never had, anywhere. Not even Holmes Chapel. You couldn’t remember a time where you’d ever held his hand for this long at one time, if you were honest, and while you didn’t need it, you enjoyed the option. 

In between zigs and zags, he mumbled stories to you about this time, and another time, and a time after that, pointing at buildings, venues, restaurants, and hotels, and you listened half in awe and half in earnest. It was a whole other life he’d lived without you before, and you’d only been aware of the surface of it. Nobody knew what he was telling you except the people he’d lived it with, and you didn’t think you’d ever get over or be able to thank him for trusting you to be someone he chose to share it with. 

“I love Sixth,” you said, sighing as you walked past giant red Christmas ornaments three times the size of you both, the reflection of the string lights wrapped around tree branches bouncing off their shiny surfaces. Radio City’s electric red script beamed at you both from a distance, and traffic lights winked and waved in the wind up and down the avenue. “They do a lot with it.” 

“It’s pretty,” he said, squeezing your hand. “Tree’s this way, isn’t it?” he asked. 

You raised your eyebrows. “Yeah,” you said. 

He jerked his head and you blinked. 

“You want to?” you asked. 

“Just a bit,” he said. “Let’s go.” 

“There’s people!” you warned him, because even from here you could see the trickle of people with the same thought. “And I saw online they have a schedule--”

“We don’t have to get close,” he said, pulling you firmly. “S’big enough we don’t need to, just wanna take a peek.” 

He was so certain, but you were less so, because all you needed was someone to see him to break the serene bubble you’d blown around yourselves. Despite that, you shuffled with him until the tree was visible, a bright, glowing ball of multi-colored lights stretching towards the sky. “Wow,” you whispered under your breath. 

“S’nice,” he said and you nodded your agreement. It was nice -- despite the sad press it had gotten, the tree had turned out very nice at the end of it all, tall and impossibly beating all odds. What a metaphor for the year.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, squeezing him around the middle. 

“Come here,” Harry said next to your ear.

“Hmm?” Reluctantly tearing your eyes from the tree, you gasped when he pulled your mask down first and then his own in two swift tugs, revealing a cheeky grin with a face cradled by the fabric. “What are you doing?” you asked, eyes darting around. 

“Getting a kiss by the tree with my girlfriend,” he said. “Now, come here,” he repeated. This time, you obliged and allowed him to steal one, two, three kisses, each one of them smashed against your lips with a palpable sort of eagerness that made you think he would drink you if he could. This felt… normal. Normal, safe, and free. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt like that. 

When you broke and burrowed against his neck, he covered the back of your head and wrapped his other arm around your back, cocooning you in the shell of the most protective embrace he could give. Just a man -- any man, a regular man -- holding the person he loved, and, after his decision to stay with you through Christmas and New Years, he arguably loved you most. 

Through the thick knit of your beanie, you felt him kissing your head, and you nuzzled into his scarf. “Thank you,” you said, face safely out of sight. “For coming here.” 

“Not mad a’me for it?” he mumbled and you shook your head. “‘Kay, good.” 

Shivering, you huddled closer and he tightened his arms, shielding you from the brisk wind. 

“People will see,” you said, but despite that you held him closer. 

“Who cares?”

He did, despite his quiet rasp. He did, and you knew why he did, but right then, you could pretend that it didn’t matter at all. 

***

It was simultaneously the longest and shortest week of your life. 

The longest, because time didn’t exist, much like it hadn’t for most of the year. Days, afternoons, evenings, and nights blended together, blurred by a happy holiday haze onset by too much of everything good -- sleep, sustenance, and spirits. The weird, if nice, part of all the extra time was having the chance to do things you’d enjoyed over the course of the year all over again. Nine times out of ten, when the two of you were together, it was rushed even on the long layovers. You’d watch one series or a film the whole way through, and next time you’d have to be on to the next one you’d agreed to hold off on until the other was there, but after having spent most of the year under the same roof, the typical race to the next one was paused. Instead, you settled in for old Christmas films and other ones you hadn’t seen since you first started properly dating, lending a timeless sort of quality to the week. 

The shortest, because he’d only just gotten there. How had it been three weeks since he’d walked in the front door with a mask on and a warning? Three weeks, two of them masked, and now it was over and done. The whole year was over and done, with 2020 coming to a slow close after feeling simultaneously like it never would and like it was moving much, much too fast. Who would’ve known this would be how it would turn out after kicking it off in the back of his car with a paper plate full of snacks and the countdown on his phone? You’d made it through another year, together. 

“Do you know what I just realized?” you asked as you unpacked the bag from El Diablito at the kitchen counter. In the background, the low hum of commentators on the TV remarking about how different this year was provided a steady buzz amidst familiar scenery of lights in different cities. Berlin had gone first, then London, and now, gradually, the new year on the east coast was gliding ever closer. 

“What?” he asked over the noise of him unfurling the bag of tortilla chips. 

“This was our first year together,” you said. “Full--” you drew an arc through the air-- “year, I mean. Saying it and all that.” 

He didn’t say anything, but when you looked at him the corner of his mouth was lifted up slightly. “S’pose it is, yeah. Feels like longer.” He fished a chip out with his index and middle fingers before crunching into it noisily. 

“Almost three years of everything else,” you murmured, unwrapping a taco to inspect it. “This one’s yours.” 

“‘Everything else’?” he teased, snickering when you slid the taco across the counter to him. “Watch it, it’ll fall apart….” 

“Shut up and eat,” you said and he barked a laugh, grin permanent and eyes sparkling as he unwrapped it to peek.

“In a minute,” he said, setting down his food, satisfied it looked right. “Come here,” he said.

“Why?” you asked, smiling slightly though you eyed him suspiciously. “What do you want?”

He motioned with his hand. “C’mere a minute,” he repeated, voice light but eyes tight, and he swallowed hard. A cold wave washed down you from head to toe. You didn’t know why you were suddenly so nervous, but the nerves themselves spiked your anxiety and made your scalp prickly and your palms sweaty, and they got worse when he grabbed one of your hands -- your left hand -- to hold between his. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about summat.” 

Oh, God. 

“Harry,” you said, but he shook his head.

“Lemme do this.” 

Five seconds. Five seconds was all it took to imagine the words coming out of his mouth, quietly, with soft, trusting eyes waiting patiently, hopefully for an answer. Five seconds was all it took for you to imagine mucking it all up with a twisted tongue, not because you weren’t sure what to say, but how to say it. No, no, no -- you didn’t want to hurt him, not even temporarily, not even by accident. 

Clearing his throat, he squeezed your hand. “I dunno how to do this,” he said, and for the first time ever, you were pretty sure he laughed without his eyes. You made a noise in your throat and curled your fingertips into his palm. “I love you,” he continued, Adam’s apple bobbing, lips trying and failing to form a smile. He was terrified, but determined, and you held his hand tighter while pressing your opposite one into his cheek.

I love you, too. You couldn’t say it, but you felt them swelling in your chest, growing your heart not two, not even three, but six times over. 

He opened and closed his mouth a few times before saying, “M’going to spend the rest of my life with you,” with a thoughtful quality in his rasp. “I think, if-- if that’s somethin’ you….”

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t, you were trying, but it was like sucking in helium. 

“So, m’kind of wondering if--”

“Harry--”

“I’m not,” he shook his head. “I’m not asking you anything right now, because we’re not ready.” He rubbed the back of your hand assuringly. “We’re not ready, you have… and I’m….” He exhaled sharply, dropping his head, and your hand moved from his cheek to his hair and you rubbed the back of his neck. “I just want to know,” he said, breathing heavily, with his voice muffled into his chest, talking very fast, barreling through and tripping over words, “if I’m totally off base here. Cause m’not gonna now when there’s so much shit happening, but like… I don’t want to put my foot in my mouth when-- if I do, so if I could just get an idea of what you think, because we had a talk once but now every time you cut me off at the knees and--”

He sputtered, stopping short, and you pressed your face into his short hair. 

“I want it,” you said, sounding braver than you felt admitting wants out loud. “I do. I will.” 

His shoulders fell with his slow, deep breaths, and you rubbed your fingertips into his scalp gently.

“I will,” you say. “Promise,” you added, voice cracking. “You’re not off base.”

Neither of you said anything for a while. You couldn’t -- you quite literally, physically couldn’t -- and he was gulping for air as quietly as he could. 

“Okay,” he said into his chest finally, sounding inexplicably embarrassed. “S’good to know.”

Silly, silly man. Did he really think… did he doubt…? “I love you,” you murmured. 

“I know,” he said. “I know y’do.”

“No, you don’t.” You kissed his head. “I love you, I-- you’ll never know.” 

Harry took a deep breath before straightening up, head high and curls falling over his forehead above the weariest, most agonized eyes you’d ever seen. His cheeks were bright red, and he might as well have just run a marathon for how spent and miserable he looked. 

“I promise,” you repeated. “I promise, honey.”

He nodded slightly, mouth still set in a thin, grim line, and, instinctively, you stepped in to kiss him, because no. No, that wouldn’t do. Stiff and unmoving at first under your lips, gradually he warmed and softened, releasing your hand to grab your hips and you moaned softly, hands running across his shoulders over his hoodie. You promised -- when it was right, when you both could, if he asked and it was what you both wanted? There was only one answer you’d ever give. 

The stool scraped against the floor when he stood, but he never broke the kiss, and you squeaked when you stumbled back against the counter. You opened your mouth wider when he coaxed you to, dizzy behind your closed eyes, and you let your hands wander freely, pulling him into you as the intensity behind the kiss escalated from comfort to need.

Two weeks. Two weeks -- three -- of pent up energy. Of hardly being able to touch each other, of being close but not close enough. 

“Come here,” he demanded in a mumble, the firm hold he had on your jaw to hold you in place as he kissed you the way he wanted leaving you breathless. Rarely did he ever do that; usually, he guided you into what you both wanted to build it until the bubble of tension popped. There was something thrilling about being told though -- something that reminded you of when you were new, three months instead of almost three years in. Something that was like when time was limited and you had to be efficient to learn each other and what would feel good and do good for the other and yourselves, and telling was sometimes all you had. 

Harry broke away with a wounded little noise and you blinked, dazed. “M’just….” He grabbed two tacos with one hand and threw them back into the paper bag. “M’moving these.” Tacos, nachos, and burritos all went back in, topped off with the chips, and he shoved them aside with some impatience. You laughed breathily and lifted yourself up onto the counter with his help, but it faded when he stepped between your legs and cupped your cheek and jaw and you caught a glimpse of the blown pupils and flushed cheeks that gave him a wild, primal look before your own eyes shut. 

Each and every tender sponging of his lips across your jaw and down your neck made you ache, and it was all you could do to stay upright and not collapse back, limp from how weak you were. His needy, mesmerized groans made your belly tighten, and when he tugged the hem of your shirt you nodded. 

Shirt, sweatshirt, bra, and undershirt were the first to go, and the straps had no sooner fallen down your shoulders than you let out a wordless, guttural shout from deep in your chest when Harry latched on and sucked your nipple with greedy enthusiasm, moving with you when you squirmed, his stubble scraping the soft skin of your breast. 

“Oh my God,” you gasped, eyes watering and elbow nearly buckling underneath you in your effort to hold yourself up. “Yes, please,” you said when he pulled the strings on your sweats. 

“That’s my girl,” he said, releasing with a pop and latching on again. “That’s my girl… gonna make it better for you.” He stood tall again when he pulled by the waistline, and you wriggled until they were at your knees and you could kick them off the rest of the way with your underwear as he dropped his own to his ankles. 

With nothing left between you, you shivered, shrinking into him when he stepped closer and drew his hands around your body in a circuit. Legs first, stomach, back, breasts, shoulders, arms, and repeat, each squeeze and dig of his hands and fingers just a little restrained and not as zealous as his groans and heavy breathing made him out to be -- like he was trying to be good, or patient, or….

“It’s ok,” you murmured between kisses. “You don’t have to wait.” They’d done the waiting -- more than enough of it. You just wanted him now.

“Sure?” Harry rasped and you nodded, eyes rolling up when he slipped his fingers between you both and they slipped up and down your folds. “Sure,” he confirmed under his breath. “Open a little more for me, love-- there we are, thank you.” 

You folded your arms around his neck and over his back and locked your ankles loosely just under his ass, heart racing in your chest. 

“Breathe in--” Harry murmured and you squeezed your eyes shut when he fit his head against your entrance. It slid and you laughed, kissing his jaw when he kissed your brow through his grin. “Deep breath for me.” 

Every time. He did that almost every time with you, first asking for a deep breath and then, invariably, pulling a long exhale from you when he thrust into your warm, wet cunt. “Oh, fuck,” he whispered in awe, holding still. You could feel the tremors pulling each fiber in his muscles, and when he throbbed inside you, you bit your lip. “Holy shit, you’ve got me good,” he groaned. 

You laughed once. “Yeah.” Yeah, something like that. Wincing, you rolled your hips forward and gasped softly from the stretch before tightening your arms and pressing your face against his hot skin. You nuzzled in between your own slow, lingering kisses, taking deep, grounding breaths. He was soft, and smooth, but firm, and hard, and he smelled amazing. Clean -- all soap and cologne with some detergent that smelled even more from the warmth of his skin. 

“Oh, God,” you whispered. “Oh, God, I--” You sucked in a harsh breath, abdomen tightening as you pulsed around him, feeling wetter, and you moved your face higher, nose pressed into the base of his sheared hair as you moaned quietly. “Oh my God, I love you.” Pitchy, bordering on hysteria, but you’d be hard pressed to remember a time you felt it as much as you meant it like you did right then. “I love you, I love-- I-- you feel--” Good. Better than good. No one had ever fit like he had -- too much, but just enough, physically, mentally, emotionally. 

“I love….” Harry gulped. “Shit, ok, m’gonna….” He made to pull his shoulders back, but you shook your head. 

“No, no, stay,” you begged, wrapping your arms and legs tighter. “Stay, please,” you murmured. 

“I can’t-- ok,” he panted. “Lemme….” He gripped your ass and pulled you closer and your back arched as you opened your thighs just a little more. “There we go,” he grunted, hips snapping forward as he finally moved. “That’s… fuck, that’s better now.” 

You could hear the effort you could feel between your legs -- each sharp pull of breath between his teeth, each muted grunt between his driving thrusts, and the pants he let out when he had to stop for a moment to catch his breath. “M’ok,” he said every time between labored gulps for air. “M’good, I just need to--” and he grit his teeth before he began again, and again, you gasped and whimpered, shrinking closer to him. 

You didn’t want to be anywhere else, with anyone else, now or ever. You didn’t want to be this close to anyone else again ever. This was never supposed to happen. He was never supposed to meet you, know you, fall in love with you, nor you with him, but now he had, and you were, and you couldn’t imagine it any other way. You couldn’t imagine a world in which he didn’t come home to you, for you, and where you weren’t there. Not waiting -- never waiting on a man, any man, but ready for him when he returned and ready to move forward together. 

He was yours. He was yours, and you were his, and the mere thought pulled something behind your belly button, making you groan.

“What?” he asked, kissing the side of your head. “What, darling, what?”

“I’m gonna cum,” you whispered and then whimpered, tightening your hold around his neck and in his hair. “Harry--” you choked, shuddering with your deep breaths.

“I know.” He grunted, thrusting with slightly more power. “Fuck! Tight little--”

“Don’t stop,” you begged. “Don’t stop, I’m close, I’m so-- I just need--” Faster and faster you rolled your hips against his, crying out against him when he wedged his thumb between you both to catch your clit, a stream of mumbled, “I’m gonna cum, you’re making me cum,” confessions hidden in his neck. Deep breaths. Long, slow, and deep, with your toes curling behind him until you were barely breathing in your efforts to concentrate, because you were right there. And then, you did cum, hard, convulsing and sucking in harshly as you trembled your way through whimpers of his name, immediately and thoroughly exhausted. 

Both his arms locked around you, then, all but crushing you to his torso in his efforts to hold you up, and he thrust hard, fast, deep, getting the right rhythm and stroke he needed. Barely able to keep your eyes open, your mouth moved soundlessly around the demand -- request -- to cum. Cum, Harry, cum, baby, please. Wordlessly, he sputtered through a sharp exhale, and it was the only indication before you felt the hot, wet release accompanying his groans.

“Fuck,” he choked, one of his hands landing hard on the counter to prop both of you up. You laughed, eyes rolling up, and you held on tightly through his turn to shake. 

“Happy New Year,” you said, still feeling a little punch-drunk from your orgasm.

He nodded. “H-Happy--” he gulped. “Happy New Year, darling.” His shoulders slumped. “Reckon this was the problem,” he said. “Should’ve fuckin’ rung the year in right last time, y’know?” 

“Right,” you breathed even as you shook your head, not quite caught up with what he was saying. 

“M’only sayin’,” he said. “We had sex the one time last Christmas. Should’ve had… a bit more,” he said indeterminately. 

“We haven’t had sex since you’ve been home.” 

Sighing heavily, he kissed your shoulder. “S’pose we’d better start,” he slurred. “S’not the new year yet.” 

[wolf-and-bard]

So, I wrote a Lambert x Aiden thing because of a conversation I had with @littoraly-art, so here we go. It’s hurt/comfort, but very much on the angsty side.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: explicit language, (brief) mentions of self-harming behaviour

You can also read it on AO3 if you want to

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The hunt didn’t go according to plan. Lambert underestimated the amount of ghouls that would crawl out of that shithole and fought them well into the night, dodging and striking, dodging and striking for hours on end. They chased him through the forest and branches whipped at him. More than once, did he narrowly escape their bites and when they were dealt with and he stumbled back to light a bomb in the nest, he wasn’t fast enough on the retreat. His ears still ring and white spots dance at the margins of his vision. Lambert only notices that he’s overdosed on Thunderbolt when he’s already back at the inn he booked for the night, two ales down, and his muscles are still taut, ready to strike, while his sense of self-preservation has plummeted. Fuck. His fingers shake as he gestures for another drink. Sweat gathers at his collar, at the small of his back. He wants to sleep and rest, but he won’t be able to, not with the residue adrenaline.

“Lambert?” someone says and Lambert hunches his shoulders. Maybe if he hides his face, he won’t be recognized. But Aiden’s already emerged from the crowd and, anyway, he would have smelled Lambert the moment he set foot into the building.

“It is you!” Aiden saunters over, all neat bun and scandalously tight gear, his brown hair looking almost black in the downcast light of the inn. His smile is brilliant as he takes the chair opposite Lambert. Takes Lambert’s hands and inspects them for wounds before bringing them to his lips. “Hey, there, pup,” he murmurs against Lambert’s knuckles. Lambert’s heart does skip a beat, but with that comes a flare of anger. Aiden doesn’t get to be lovey and cheerful when Lambert wants to crawl out of his own skin. He hums something indiscernible.

“What is it? Talk to me.”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, really? Alright, if that’s how you want to play it,” Aiden says mockingly, letting Lambert’s hands go. “What? Oh, yes, it is good to see me, isn’t it? How I am? I’m so glad you asked. I managed to haggle a big fat fee on a rock troll couple that were mating up in the mountains and causing avalanches and now I’m drowning in coin. Pretty crazy, right? If I made it okay? Aww, sweetie, there’s no need to worry. Haven’t got a scratch on me. You wanna hear more about it? No, of course it isn’t too much to ask, I will happily oblige.” 

"Just... leave me alone," Lambert cuts in, and lifts his tankard to veil his face. He's good at hiding his emotion, but in the face of whatever this is and with the day he's had... well, his boundaries are more than probed.

“What? So, you can give yourself a sorry hand-job and cry yourself to sleep? No, sir, that would be incredibly pathetic and a crime against humanity.” Aiden smiles and before Lambert can keep drinking, he’s snatched the tankard away and emptied it himself. Great. Now there isn’t even that to hide behind. Lambert likes Aiden, he really does. On most occasions, he’s so overjoyed to see him that he doesn’t recognize himself. Aiden makes him feel… too many things to think about right now. Today though, Lambert’d rather be alone.

“None of your business.”

"Fine, have it your way" Aiden says with a good-natured shrug and, humming, stands. He makes a beeline for the nearest table full of average-to-handsome soldiers with the Temerian blazon on their chests, and slams a hand down on the table. His hips are cocked out, his smile sly, exposing overly sharp canines. They all look up at him with varying degrees of surprise, realisation. “Any of you boys down to fuck a mutant?” Lambert's blood runs cold, he’s had enough of this. He hurls his empty tankard across the room, angling just so he doesn't hit anyone - though no guarantee on the rebound – and leaves.

His armour, clothes and swords are scattered across the small room he rented by the time he makes it into bed, wearing only thin cotton smallclothes. He sits not two minutes, contemplating whether to go asleep or order himself more alcohol to dull the edge of his frustration even further, when Aiden comes into the room, no knock, no courtesy.

“Aren’t you off sucking flaccid cock? Or are you already done the whole lot of them?” Lambert spits, and crosses his arms over his bare chest. Aiden’s eyes darken and he shuts the door behind himself, forceful enough that it rattles, then slips out of his own armour and boots without much ceremony. “Go get your own room, asshole.”

“You know what? Go fuck yourself,” Aiden replies in a measured manner. All his earlier aloofness is gone, replaced by a gravity Lambert has a hard time looking at. Aiden sorts both their stuff into neat piles, then takes Lambert’s swords to the corner chair. Lambert stares at his own knees, but he can hear every tiny movement of Aiden’s hands as he cleans Lambert’s swords, inspects them for chips, pulls out a whetstone to restore their edge. The amount of care this alone conveys almost brings tears to Lambert’s eyes. Aiden could be deep-throating handsome soldiers right now, but instead he’s here, doing for Lambert what he doesn’t have the energy left to do for himself.

When he’s done the swords, Aiden does the same to his own pair, then examines the two sets of armour plating for tears or gashes that need mending. He lines up both chests of potions and counts out what’s missing, takes notes for ingredients. It’s a normal routine, only that usually, each witcher does it for himself. Lambert feels a mixture of embarrassment and affection heat his cheeks, but he doesn’t look up, not yet. Only when Aiden finishes with a soft exhale and wanders over to the bed which dips under his weight, does Lambert uncross his arms. Dares to take a peek. Fuck. He shouldn’t have. Aiden’s pupils are wide in the starlight that falls through the single window, the moon painting him in blues and silvers. Some of his hair has escaped his bun and his lips part on a sigh that expose his teeth. He’s a fucking vision, too gorgeous to be sitting here.

For once, there is quiet, so rare with the two of them. If Lambert lets go of consciousness a little more, it almost feels like a dream. If it were, he would reach out, draw Aiden onto his lap, lose himself in the familiar glide of their bodies against one another. As it is, the silence hangs by a thread and Lambert cuts it, edges fraying into dust between them.

“What,” he barks and Aiden sighs again.

“The only cock I want to suck is yours, idiot. Flaccid or not.

“Is that so?”

“Yes? I thought I had made that abundantly clear.” Aiden has. There have probably been more blowjobs than nights they shared a bed, altogether. And maybe that’s the problem. Aiden might not seem it now, but one day Lambert’s cock will not be enough to make up for his mouth.

"Why were you so obnoxious then?" he asks.

"Because you need to learn not to push me away, Lamb. I'm here, I understand, I'm yours." Three quick sentences that puncture Lambert like barbed arrows. I'm here feels like sparks of an off-kilter Igni that eat at his fingertips. I understand goes right to his gut and makes him feel like he is out on the rocky sea, in a rickety boat all by himself, at the storm's mercy. I'm yours is the lightning that strikes then and short-circuits his nervous system into small spams. He takes a deep breath and the soft kiss Aiden places on the corner of his mouth when he leans over helps quell the panic. "I can't change how I am," he says. Prickly, loud-mouthed, mean.

"You really aren't... no, that's not gonna work, is it? C’mere." Aiden crawls over the bed and settles next to Lambert, draws him against him, his strong arms wrapped firmly around Lambert's bare chest. Lambert's head is throbbing lightly, heartrate kept accelerated from the alcohol, but he deflates a little. Notices the small vial with almost clear liquid Aiden is holding between his index and middle finger. “You didn’t drink it, did you?”

Lambert shrugs. So, maybe he forgot to take the White Honey, fucked-up as he was. So, maybe he didn’t want to take it, stay fucked-up a little longer. He has days like this, where the lingering toxicity of the potions stokes some dark flame deep inside of him, kindled by his hatred for what he is, what he has become. Lambert isn’t prone to self-harm, but this, well. This he is prone to and Aiden is seeing right through him. Fucking cat, fucking.... is this love yet?

“I didn’t.”

“So, do it now.” Aiden uncorks the bottle with one hand and his grip on Lambert tightens so that he would have to struggle to escape it. For a moment, Lambert thinks about refusing. He wants to wallow, dammit, he wants to pity himself and maybe have Aiden pity him too. “Don’t think about it, pup. You can bullshit your way around other people, but not around me,” Aiden continues and holds the vial to Lambert’s lips. Lambert snatches it away and empties it in two long drags. Immediately, his vision sharpens and his lungs clear. His muscles stop trembling and his heartrate settles into its normal, mutated rhythm. “Better?”

“Better,” Lambert agrees sulkily. He tosses the vial aside and sinks back against Aiden.

“You’re really stupid sometimes, you know that?” Aiden says with a sharp edge to his voice, but he noses at Lambert’s ear, under it, breath hot over the skin of Lambert’s throat.

“You’re the one that’s stupid…” Stupid for caring for me. Stupid for still being here.

“Will you stop it already? I’m trying so hard to be patient and you keep pushing me away. Did you forget who I am? What we share?”

“I didn’t,” Lambert says. He is weak and tired. He lets Aiden tug at his chin and half-turn him for a kiss that lingers even after their lips part for breath.

“Then drop the farce. Fuck, I don’t know what to say to you,” Aiden whispers against his mouth, chasing each word with a kiss to Lambert’s lips, the corners of his mouth, his nose. “I love you, Lambert, I love you so fucking much, but I can’t keep prying you out of your shell. Don’t you trust me?”

I want to love you too, Lambert thinks.

With my life, Lambert thinks.

You’re the best person I’ve ever met, Lambert thinks.

But he isn’t ready for that yet and so he settles for the next best thing: “I’m sorry.” The rest of it he pours into their next kiss, one that feels frozen in time for how slow and indulgent it is, the world reduced to the drag of their lips and the scratch of Aiden’s canines, the stuttering of his breath. Lambert wriggles around until he straddles Aiden’s lap with his thighs and frames Aiden’s tanned face with his scarred, pale fingers. Even paler next to his lover. Aiden fucking glows and Lambert is less a man, more a phantom next to him.

“Fuck, puppy, you’re so beautiful, do you know that?” Aiden gasps when they part once more. His hands are splayed over Lambert’s upper back and they are both half-hard against one another, but Lambert doesn’t feel like sex. He feels like curling up and having a good cry. He feels like kissing Aiden again, and so he does.

“And here I am, trying so hard to hide it so you peasants don’t feel bad about yourselves,” Lambert says, on instinct more than anything else. He wants to slap himself, this is exactly what Aiden meant, isn’t it? But Aiden laughs, the fucker, a clear sound that sets loose something fluttery inside of Lambert. Shit. It is love. “I thought the scar would have done the job.”

“Joke’s on you, I adore the scar.” Aiden presses his lips to the bottom of it and drags them along, skipping Lambert’s eye in favour of nuzzling his forehead. It’s ridiculous. It tickles. Lambert laughs and hides his face in Aiden’s neck. Aiden sighs and his hands wander up to Lambert’s head, cradling it. “Promise me something, pup?”

Anything, Lambert thinks. He grunts.

“Allow yourself this. I don’t need you to fall onto your knees and profess your love in some grand gesture, but… don’t shut me out. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Thank you.”

Lambert falls asleep like that, tucked against Aiden’s chest and he wakes in the morning facing the sunrise with an arm slung around his bare torso and Aiden’s nose pressed against the nape of his neck. He allows it to last.

[rocorambles]

A Skulk of Foxes

Pairing: Kita x Reader

Prompt: Fantasy

Genre: SFW, Fluff, Fox Shifter Kita, Fantasy AU, Shifter AU

Summary: You moved to the woods to start fresh, begin a new chapter in your life. Little do you know just how much your world is about to change because of a skulk of foxes.  

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s SFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. (Masterlist goes live Thursday, October 29th 11:00pm U.K. time!) 

You sigh with relief when you finally finish unpacking the last box of your possessions, stretching your aching muscles as excitement finally begins to bubble inside of you when you proudly look at your new home you’ve made for yourself. Reality is finally sinking in and your giddy with the feeling of a fresh start, a new beginning. The quaint little cabin is certainly different from the cramped modern apartment you had in the heart of Tokyo, but different is exactly what you need and you nestle into the cozy armchair by the window in your new living room, a cup of hot tea in your hands as you enjoy the silence of nature and the view of swaying branches. 

If anyone were to have told you that you’d willingly choose to live in the middle of the woods by yourself a few years ago, you would have laughed. You were a city girl through and through and the idea of not being surrounded by the noise of traffic and crowds of people was baffling. But after your long-term relationship had taken a nosedive into the ground and crash and burned, suddenly the city felt suffocating, filled with too many memories, too many mutual acquaintances and when you had seen this listing on your way back home from work one night, you had jumped at the opportunity to escape it all and start a new chapter. 

Your new way of life takes some adjusting to, but you don’t mind as you pull on your new hiking boots, eager to explore the acres of wooded lands you’re surrounded by. The air is crisp and fresh, and you inhale deeply, soaking in the peaceful quiet only interrupted by the crunching of dirt and grass under your feet. And that’s how your days idle by, you scoping out the area in the early mornings as the sun is rising with your trusty nature handbook you’d bought in one hand, a basket in the other hand as you look back and forth between the herbs and plants you see and the painted illustrations and tips in the book, returning with a bundle of freshly picked produce before signing onto your work computer and dutifully putting in your hours. It’s a tiring grind, but when you finally get to power down your laptop and sit outside under the bright night stars with a glass of wine in your hand, it doesn’t seem so bad after all. 

You get savvier and more adventurous, really leaning into country living as you begin to grow your own vegetables and fruit, set up a fire pit, plant flowers that you use to spruce up your living space. It’s a wonderful life, but there’s only one slight concern in the back of your mind.

The foxes. 

Growing up in the city, you’d never learned how to handle animals other than the rats and roaches the concrete jungle was infested with. Sure, you love your share of fluffy dogs and cats that you’d pet and play with, but there’s a big difference between domesticized pets and wild animals and you had noticed early on that your neck of the woods seemed to be rampant with foxes. You wonder if it’s just the fact that you’d never seen a fox in real life before, but you can’t help but think these foxes seem much larger than your usual fox, their fur and eye colors ranging far more than you thought was biologically possible. But even though they seem to like hovering around you and watching you intently from a distance, they never draw near and they leave your gardens alone, so you dismiss their presence, letting them do as they please as you go about your own business. 

The weather’s getting colder and you figure now is the time to test the fire pit you’d built. It takes a bit of fumbling around, but you beam with pride when you get a flame started, mesmerized by the flickering light and warmth beginning to billow. And although the wind has a bite to it, the radiating heat keeps you comfortable as you roast the chicken you had bought in town, mouth already watering as the smell of cooked meat begins to permeate throughout the air. But you’re startled when two furry bodies suddenly brush up against you and you stay perfectly still, unsure what to do when a gold fox leaps into your lap, curling into a fluffy ball as he stares at you while a silver fox calmly sits next to you, nudging your hand with his head in a silent order to pet him and you tentatively scratch behind his ears, staring in awe as he leans into your touch. 

For wild animals, they’re oddly well behaved and affectionate and you’re frankly stunned that they hadn’t just pounced at the raw meat and ran away with your dinner. But you’re not complaining and you continue petting them as your meal continues cooking, only stopping to their dismay when the chicken is ready to be cut up. Your heart breaks a bit when you see them staring expectantly at you and you swear they're both pouting as you make a move to bring the chicken inside the house, but their ears perk up when you leave your door open and beckon them inside and they’re quick to race towards you, rushing between your legs before making their way to your dining table and jumping up on the extra chairs you have set. It’s certainly an odd sight to see two large wild foxes easily make themselves at home, but you can’t help but fondly smile at them when you prepare three plates of food and they eagerly dig in. 

They’re surprisingly neat about eating and it’s almost eerie how they seem to purposefully keep the scraps and bones on their plate, almost human-like the way they grab your napkin, using it to wipe their mouths and paws. Maybe they used to be someone’s pets? But you don’t dwell on it, enjoying the company they provide as they curl up by your feet as you wash the dishes, as their feet pitter-patter after you as you do some errands around the cabin and you’re almost sad when they nudge you to the door, waiting for you to let them out before you go to sleep. 

You quickly realize there’s nothing to be sad about, not when you have a furry entourage that walks beside you whenever you’re outside, not when bodies are weaving in between your legs, almost threatening to trip you with how excited they are to play with you, not when heads are constantly butting against you, begging for pets. It seems like your two friends had spread the word and now you have a whole slew of friendly foxes wanting to get to know you better and you love every second of it, even building a little door for them to easily walk in and out of your cabin and it becomes a common occurrence for you to wake up to fluffy bodies curled around your body, for foxes to be perched on your dining room chairs at meal times, for you to have a lap full of needy foxes wanting your attention when all your bellies are full.  

But there’s one fox who keeps his distance from you and even though he’s not the largest of the bunch, even you can sense the quiet authority he has as the other foxes are quick to lower their heads submissively and run to him when he barks at them. Even the golden fox who you’ve come to pinpoint as the troublemaker of the group seems to quiet down a bit around him and one day when he’s being just a tad too rowdy with you, nipping you harder than usual as he excitedly pounces on you, he immediately whines and sinks his head into the crook of your neck in apology when the light gray leader harshly growls at him. You affectionately pet the sad gold pile in your arms and verbally assure the gray fox that you’re fine even though you’re sure that he can’t understand a word you’re saying, but to your surprise, as if he comprehends exactly what you’re trying to convey, the gray fox relaxes a bit and lies back down, going back to quietly watching his pack and you. 

The weather’s becoming frigid and you know it’s silly to worry about clearly healthy and strong wild animals who’ve fended for themselves their whole lives, but you can’t help the pang of concern you have for your furry friends as snow begins to creep in. However, in hindsight, maybe you should have been more concerned for yourself. It’s an especially brutal day and you really shouldn’t be outside at all, not with the wind whipping at neck breaking speeds and torrential amounts of snow pouring down, but like a true city idiot, you’d procrastinated about restocking your wood supply and now with nothing left to keep you warm, you have no choice but to venture out and collect as much as you can to at least keep a fire going on during the worst of the snow storm. 

You pride yourself on knowing the woods like the back of your hand now, but the pain of the wind whipping your face and the never ending white in your vision as the snow keeps on coming down makes it hard to concentrate, makes it hard to orient yourself and as the frost begins to get to you, making you shiver, making you lose all train of thoughts other than the fact that you’re literally freezing to death, you panic. You’re frozen stiff as you wildly circle around, trying to calm the swirling dark thoughts in your head as you try to make sense of where you are, but it’s no use. Everything looks the same now and you think you might be sick from the rocketing anxiety inside of you, but you’re pulled back to reality by a harsh tug at your coat sleeve and you almost sob in relief when you see a familiar light gray pelt tipped with black. 

Brown eyes look imploringly at you as he gives your sleeve another harsh tug and that’s all the encouragement you need to stumble after him, trusting him to bring you back to safety. Your legs are numb and there’s not a hint of grace in your steps and for a second, you’re afraid of falling behind, but your heart warms at the way he makes sure to never be more than an arm's length in front of you, always turning his head back to make sure you’re still right behind him, nipping insistently at you when you pause for too long. And even when you finally reach your cabin, he practically shoves you through your door with his whole body, almost ripping your clothes as he rapidly helps you remove your soaked through clothing. 

You’re shocked to see him still standing outside your bathroom door when you finally step out of the warm water, but still overwhelmed and exhausted by the day’s events, you only briefly acknowledge him as your body barely makes it to your bed before collapsing. And as your eyes shut and you slip under a heavy cloud of sleep, you swear you feel arms and hands rearranging you, carefully tucking you underneath your blankets, propping your head up on a pillow. You swear you hear a male voice scolding you for putting yourself in danger, telling you to rest. But too exhausted to open your heavy lids, you chalk it up to your imagination before completely drifting off. 

You’ll never be able to fully explain what happened as you finally wake up only to find that a fire has been started, a healthy supply of dry wood set up by it, your wet clothes hung up to dry, but unable to really remember much after you’d been guided back to your cabin, you think you must have just been working on auto-pilot before you passed out. (Never mind that you certainly don’t remember collecting that much wood.) But with no better explanation, you let it be, just glad to be safe and warm. And it seems like you’re not the only one happy to still see you alive and kicking as familiar visitors come by to check in on you and you have a strange suspicion that they’re worried about you, even the gold fox being more docile than usual as he cuddles with you. To your surprise, their leader also pays you a visit and you can’t help but feel chastised when you thank him for rescuing you, only to get a sharp nip and a growl in return and you swear he’s glowering at you. But it seems that all is forgiven when he shoves the gold fox out of your lap and regally takes his place, curling up and falling fast asleep on top of you. 

They never let you leave your cabin alone again that winter and it’s almost comical when they let out a series of howls as you climb into your car when you refuse to let even one of them ride with you. You wonder if an outsider would think you’re crazy as you speak to them, telling them you’d be right back after you pick up some much needed supplies and food from town that you can’t get by yourself in the woods. But eventually they quiet down and you chuckle when you see them all sitting outside your cabin through your rear car window, watching you leave, and you have a strong suspicion that they’ll be in the same exact position waiting for you when you return home. 

The town’s small, but everyone’s so friendly and helpful that you don’t mind waiting a tiny bit longer in line as the sole cashier takes care of everyone, enjoying the friendly chitter chatter and catching up on what’s been going on. The sheriff greets you and you smile at the handsome man. Daichi had been one of the first people to go out of his way to greet you. “It’s a sheriff’s duty to know everyone in town,” he had said, but you had a feeling that sheriff or not, he’d still be friendly enough to try and get to know the new person in town. Conversation is pleasant as both of you share what’s been going on in your lives, but your heart drops when he warns you to be careful of poachers in your area. His team is still trying to find and arrest them, but until then, he cautions you from wandering too far from home. He continues rambling on, but you’ve completely tuned him out, your mind only thinking of your new furry family and everything is a blur as you shakily pack your car trunk and race home. 

Relief floods through you when you see the foxes still lazing about and lounging in your yard, perking up at the sight and sound of your rapidly approaching vehicle. But their fur stands up and their tails rise in agitation at your distressed state as you usher them into the safety of your cabin and before you know it, you’re surrounded by multiple bodies whimpering and trying to jump on you to soothe you. You know it’s silly to talk to them and try to explain what’s going on, but with no other way to relay your feelings, you tell them what Daichi had told you, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes when you beg them to be careful, telling them they can use your house as a safe shelter whenever they need, and you don’t even realize that you’re almost completely sobbing until their light gray leader leaps into your lap and gently laps away your salty tears, nuzzling his face against your cheek as if he’s trying to comfort you. And whether or not that’s really what he was intending, you do feel better as you hug his large body close to you, burying your face into his soft fur. 

You feel lighter after that night, still a little wary and concerned for your newfound friends, but days pass and life seems normal. You don’t hear gunshots. You don’t see strange men roaming through the woods. Daichi and you keep in contact and although he tells you they still haven’t caught the perpetrators yet, slight hope rises in you and you wonder if they’ve moved on to a different area. But your hopes are instantly dashed when you’re abruptly woken by paws frantically clawing at you, loud distressed howls right in your ear and with your heart thumping out of your chest you stare with wide bleary eyes at the gold and silver foxes nudging you out of bed, one leading the way, the other repeatedly rushing you, his head pushing against the back of your legs. 

You have a bad feeling about what has them in such an uproar and you hate that your apprehension was warranted when you see their leader crying in pain, an ugly sharp metal contraption digging deeply into one of his front legs and suddenly you’re moving even faster than your furry companions as you lunge towards him, quickly, but carefully trying to assess the damage, trying to figure out how to untangle him from the horrid trap. You’ve just managed to pry open the trap enough for him to free himself and limp a bit aways when you hear the sounds of men's voices and approaching footsteps. And there’s nothing friendly about the way they’re shouting, nothing welcoming about the glint of their guns in the flashlight beams bouncing around, so before you can even strategically think about what you’re doing, you pick up the injured fox, careful not to jostle or touch his wound as you run as fast as your legs can move, not stopping even when your lungs are burning from exertion, even when you want to keel over from exhaustion, urged on and not allowed to slow down by the nips to your ankles the gold and silver foxes give you as they run alongside you. 

Gunshots are whizzing around you, but you have the knowledge of the terrain and expert guides on your side and the angry screams get quieter and farther away the longer you race forward before soon enough there’s only your labored breathing and the tiny cries of the fox you’re holding to your chest. But despite that, you don’t slow down, throwing your front door open as you slowly lay the gray fox on your bed, rushing to grab your first-aid box while simultaneously calling Daichi, putting him on speaker phone as you wash the bloody matted fur. You know you must sound frazzled, distracted as you fumble with words, trying to give him the best approximate location you can of where you’d lost the poachers while you tenderly pet the whimpering fox who’s hissing with every wipe you give to his bleeding injury, but you thank whoever’s listening that Daichi makes sense of your stuttered words and tells you he’s on his way to scan the area and for you to get some rest before hanging up and leaving you to give your sole attention to your patient. 

You whisper sweet encouraging words in a soft tone, apologizing and stroking his stomach everytime he winces as you continue cleaning his wound, but he stays perfectly still, not budging even an inch despite his discomfort and when you finally bandage him up, you smile as you see him finally slumping into your bedsheets, exhaustion finally catching up to him now that adrenaline isn’t amping him up and you can’t help the affectionate kiss you plant on his forehead as you tuck him into your bed, unaware of the way brown eyes stare at you in shock, unblinking as they process the intimate gesture you’d gifted him. And when you get ready for bed, shooing the other foxes out of your room to give your special guest some space and peace to fully relax, you’re still oblivious to the way a wet snout tentatively returns your gesture when you close your eyes, making light contact with your own forehead before curling his furry head underneath your chin and basking in your natural warmth. 

It’s warm when you wake up, which is welcome when it’s frigid outside of the safety of your blankets and you instinctively lean into the source expecting to feel the familiar plush fur of the foxes who come to share your bed sometimes. But your eyes shoot open when you feel warm skin underneath your fingertips and you have to fight back the scream when you come face to face with a man you don’t recognize who’s groggily opening his brown eyes, your body scrambling backwards. Tangled in the sheets, you don’t get far and fear lances through you as you stare wide-eyed at the stranger beside you who’s...panicking even more than you are? 

You pause in your escape attempt as you take a closer look at the man who’s frantically wrapping your blanket around his bare body, brown eyes staring at you in fear which is strange considering this is your room he’s intruding in. Common sense tells you to be wary and yet there’s something familiar about his eyes and when you finally take note of his light gray hair tipped with black and the bandage around his arm, disbelief runs through you as you tentatively approach his huddled form. 

“Are you- are you the fox I took care of?”

Brown eyes warily observe you as you draw near, but they widen in surprise when your hand gently runs through his hair and you give him the same sweet smile you’ve always given him when he was in his fox form. 

“You’re not scared of me?” 

You laugh. “If anything, I’m more surprised than anything else. Care to explain?”

And spurred on by the hope that the human he’s come to love might actually accept him for who he really is, he is quick to tell you everything and anything and you listen in amazement as he tells you about shifters, how him and his pack are all fox shifters, how there are different types of shifters all over the world, how they’re much more common than humans realize. He tells you his name, Kita, and the names of every fox shifter you’ve met. He tells you about the awful history of humans hunting them down to sell on the black market which has led them to live as foxes, deep in the woods, away from any living soul. He tells you about how you’re the first human his pack has interacted with for years, the first human to gain their trust after years of loneliness, never being able to access or connect with their human side. 

There’s a brief moment of silence as you take everything in, still softly carding your fingers through his hair. But the lingering question in your head finally slips out. 

“Why did you reveal yourself to me now?”

And your lips quirk at the shy flustered expression on his face as he buries deeper into your cozy blankets. 

“I was too exhausted to keep my fox form after everything that happened last night.”

But before you can tease him a bit more, there’s a knock on your door and you panic, unsure how to explain the unknown man in your cabin. However, it seems that you have nothing to worry about when you spin around, only to see Kita’s fox form nonchalantly curled up in your bed, looking at you with his own smug amusement at your gaping mouth. You rush to the door, Kita padding after you, a slight limp from his front leg and upon seeing the sheriff through your peephole, you greet him, giddy with relief when he tells you that they’ve managed to apprehend all the poachers thanks to your tip last night. 

It never crosses your mind how strange it was that Daichi so easily arrested all the men despite your extremely vague directions and despite it being pitch black, but unknown to you, it’s easier than you think to maneuver through the dense night woods when you have wings. However, Kita’s more perceptive than you and when he scents the air, he looks in interest at the man who smells like a crow and brown and black eyes lock for a second as a hint of acknowledgement runs through Daichi’s eyes when the shifter inside of him sees the fox for what he really is. But it’s only a fleeting glance, too quick for your human eyes to notice, and Daichi parts ways, subtly nodding to the fox who’s currently laying on your feet before waving goodbye to you, leaving Kita and you alone once again. Well, maybe not that alone, you think, as a group of familiar foxes come racing towards the both of you once Daichi is gone. 

Life is chaotic, in a good way, but chaotic nonetheless after that. It’s a new dynamic for all of you as you try to merge your two worlds and ways of life together. It no longer phases you when you see glimpses of naked men running here and there as they shift between their human and fox forms and you’ve learned to always have spare sets of clothing on hand to quickly throw their way when they do decide to take their human shape for a spin. Atsumu has finally stopped whining about not being allowed to sleep in your bed with you anymore after Kita had put him in his place and your face goes hot when you remember exactly what had transpired during that conversation. 

When you had found out they were shifters, you found yourself being a little more self-conscious and self-aware around them. It seemed unbecoming of a woman to be sharing the same bed or changing in front of foxes that turned into handsome men and soon Kita was the only one allowed in your bedroom. Atsumu had howled and complained the first night that Kita slipped into your bed next to you, demanding to also be let in, questioning why Kita was allowed to sleep with you, especially in his human form. And suddenly feeling like a parent who suddenly has to explain the birds and the bees to their child, you grow flustered, unsure how to broach the subject. But sensing your panic, a large hand gently grabbed your chin, turning you until you were facing the serious countenance that you’d come to love, and in front of the still wailing younger man, he had captured your lips in a searing kiss before pointedly looking at a suddenly silent Atsumu. 

“That’s why,” he had calmly said, but before he could even fully voice those two words, Atsumu had quickly retreated, closing the door behind him and leaving the two of you alone. 

The two of you had skirted around directly talking about what was going on between the two of you, but that kiss had officially sealed the deal and you both stay up late that night, talking about your future life together, as his mate, as your boyfriend and it seems like unsurprisingly, Atsumu has run his mouth off and the whole pack is there waiting to congratulate you two on finally getting together the next morning. 

And now here you are, living in a recently expanded cabin, loud and full of bodies, both furry and human. You take a sip of your coffee, rolling your eyes as you hear the twins bicker, a slight smile on your face when you see Aran and Suna in their fox forms, napping on the couch, the others sprawled out here and there as they cook and eat breakfast. But it’s the strong arms that wrap around your waist from behind, the mouth stealing a sip from your piping hot mug before burying his face in the crook of your neck and shoulder that makes your heart flutter and you turn to kiss Kita, melting into his hold as you both survey your new family, your new home.   

[lost-souls-wander]

Hunter x Reader

Chapter 1

It happened very fast, and everything went out of control. One moment humanity was just doing its thing and living in order. The next week however, everything had changed for the worst. All because of some kind of green flue. Don't take me wrong, I was concerned in the beginning, the fear of losing my slightly rhythmic life sure had taken its toll on me, especially after everyone around me started to panic, including my parents.

"HANNA! You cant just leave us! HANNA!-" those were my dads last words to his ex-lover and wife as she had taken the car, and drove off with our supplies and food. Dad was a mess after after what happened. He couldn't properly take care of us anymore, he had lost a lot of sleep in a few weeks time, his behavior also worsened. He was quick to anger, and constantly irritated. So I took it upon myself to learn things on my own as he continued to reign terror on the last of his family. I had snuck out just a few hours before sun rise and grabbed my bike. My fastest form of transport at the moment, and made a quick tour to the library, as usual, but my dad never knew. And it was possibly better this way.It was empty and deserted, I could hear a few inhuman groans here and there but couldn't quite picture what these "zombie" like creatures looked like, our dad was pretty much a helicopter when it came to the outside world when the apocalypse hit and mom left. None was allowed outside the house at all, just him. And he alone went scouting for food and food alone, here and there some materials but never something for us, his children.I could see his state worsening by the day, and considered it top priority to get away as soon as possible with as much knowledge on how to survive as possible. The building of the library was thick with a musty sent of old books and dust, lots of iron too, which I could only guess was blood. I stayed away from the strong scent of iron and focused on getting to the herbology section of the library.In these times mankind forgot that the true power of surviving came from knowledge, no knowledge? No advantage. No advantage? Possibly a gruesome death would follow.My hands brushed the polished wood that kept the books in their place on the shelves, thinking of how many people had touched these books, read through them, and possibly never did something with the knowledge inside. It was a shame really. I wanted to perhaps become member of this society and yet here it was, crumbling away at these un-dead. It saddened me a little, and I was horrified for a while when I heard it. What was I gonna do now? My degree in art and drawing was pretty much useless now. At least I could scavenge for a cabin in the mountains and settle down there, far away from society, where no zombies or humans could reach so I could exist in peace.

I chuckled, a mid-tone raspy chuckle filled my throat and echo'd a little through the empty apocalyptic library as I stopped and continued thinking about what to do and where to go. But first order of business was to get knowledge from the books and find a place to escape to. Grabbing my black old school bag I ripped it open quickly, wanting to fill it with the necessary books and just get out of here, The sounds of the un-dead in the distance was off putting, and I wasn't taking a chance to be caught in the middle of a group of them. I might have not seen them. But I knew damn well that from the clips on TV that those fuckers were fast. And me without my bike? Not so much.

I grabbed the books by pairs, quickly turning them to their back side and skimming through what the book would hold.

Edible herbal plants... Seasonal plants... Look alike's and their dangers... Looked valid enough. It went like this for a few minutes until my bag was full with books about surviving in nature, herbs, and making shelters for the night. Although I doubted it would help against zombie apocalypses it was always good to know how to make something remotely sheltering and how to acquire food from its natural source.

I quickly flung my backpack over my back and quickly took in the noise around me, the hoard had gotten ever so closer, and it started to make me anxious. If I didn't get out of here soon and back home I would be in a LOT of trouble, perhaps more trouble than being chased down the streets by a hoard of zombies. So I speed-walked towards the exit, the broken doors were leaning against the framework that had red and black splotches all over it the doors pretty much being smashed in two pieces by something extraordinary big. A shiver ran down her spine, May did NOT want to know what was big enough to do that.

after leaving the library doors she quickly hid in the bushes, peeking in between the leaves to see there was any danger, the branches poked and prodded at her form, the twigs leaving nasty marks on her clothes and bare skin.

There! in the distance she spotted her bike, old and a bit rusty, but it did the job well, I looked around if there were any zombies walking around and about, the road was clear, and so was the road ahead. It was a bit strange considering I hear an entire group of them just a few minutes ago but that must have been the other side of the building, luckily not the way I needed to go in order to get home.

I got partially up and half crouched/ran towards my bike which was placed against the opposite building in an alleyway, the alleyway was filled with trashcans and bags that had been ripped open by rats and other critters that roamed the streets and needed some food. Not that it was of any use now, it was all rotten and left a horrid stench that made my nose scrunch up in disgust.

I got on my bike and quickly started to get home, it was then that I started to feel like I was being watched. I felt it crawling over my skin that there was something or someone watching me, maybe some of the other survivors? or perhaps a zombie? I didn't want to find out and started to bike a little faster.

And then it happened all so fast, an inhuman growl came from my left and I was flung off my bike, panic setting into my very bones as I felt the bike get out of my grip, my face looked upwards as I saw the dark sky with a few light rays from the sun. I felt the cold harsh ground on my back and the air flew from my lungs as I tumbled down the steep hill, the creature flung with me yelping in surprise at it's own actions, we both rolled harshly down the wall of the construction site that was never finished.

I felt whatever air I had in me leave my body as I harshly was flung onto ground and came to a stop on my back, I groaned in agony face twisting in pain. everything hurt, my shoulders were probably bruised beyond belief and my legs felt like they had been ripped off whilst still being attached to me. And don't even get me started on my head, it hurt like a bitch!

I continued to wallow in my own pain for a brief moment until I heard a scream that sounded like it came from the depth's of hell itself, and a squishing like sound like flesh had been impaled on high impact, until all that was left was sound of screams of pure agony.

I didn't want to look at what had happened, I was in so much pain and the adrenaline was so high in my system that I made a run for the hill and grabbed what was left of my bike and just went, the howls of pain in the background growing fainter and fainter as the black concrete enveloped my mind, the scent of iron in the air was even more noticeable than before, and the distant sound of zombies screaming left me in even more panic than before as I skidded to a stop in front of my house, put my bike back in its place and threw myself over the fence to climb in the tree, and get inside of my room.

I did not come down that day for food or anything else.

That night I laid in bed curled up in fear and confusion, what had attacked me? what was it even? was that a zombie?! panic and fear had settled itself deep into my mind, I did not want to go back to the library in fear of coming across whatever that was, but fear soon turned into a guilty sympathetic feeling as I remembered what had happened to it, it had gotten pierced by metal rods and maybe was there, slowly dying, starving to death. If it even was alive that is.

I shut my eyes, letting my dark room filled with plants and comfortable blankets fall from my vision as I let a restless sleep take over me, for the next up coming week I did not sleep well, only thinking about the creature that might still be stuck there. Waiting for whatever was next to come.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Unfinished Business ~ Part Two

WORD COUNT: 2.8K (This is the shortest chapter I believe in this series)

WARNINGS: Mentions of mafia, strong language, 

PAIRING: Bang Chan X Reader

DESCRIPTION: Part Two of nine of my new Bang Chan series. 

You’re taken hostage but one of Seoul’s leading mafia families Bang Chan but he doesn’t take you because he wants to fake a marriage or make you fall for him in 365 days no…He wants to use you for his own personal gain. To take over another family but when you try to escape things take a turn for the worst and you learn Chan isn’t one to be messed with.(Please I suck at describing stuff)

THEMES: Smut will be included in a later chapter (It will state which chapter) so this is a fic for a mature audience, Chan x Fem!Reader, Self insert

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT 

Light poured in through the bars of the basement window and you groaned groggily as you woke up, you opened your eyes squinting at the sudden sunlight you had no idea where you were but it wasn't home. You stared around the room trying to get used to the low light, you were about to move your leg when you felt something tug on your ankle. It was a tingle sensation running through your ankle as you tried to move it,  whatever it was attached to your ankle hurt to move and you felt a jolt of pain tear through your anklebone,

"Shit." You hissed eyes glancing down to your legs to see that around your ankle was a rusted silver chain, not just a chain but a huge silver and rusted chain attached to a brick wall with screws.

"What the fuck?" Using your hands you struggled against the chain trying to tug it away from the wall or from your ankle when you heard a deep chuckle come from the other side of the room and it made you jump.

"Hello!?" Your voice came out more panicked than you had intended but you stood your ground - or rather sat your ground. You couldn't move from the spot you were in and you still couldn't see anything inside of the room.

"You won't get out." The lights flicked on and you looked around, eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness to see another one of the men from the bar. The bar. You were starting to remember what happened after you left work, images flashing back into your brain as you remembered Jisung showing up there and being shoved into the back of a car. Panic rushed through your body as you realised who they all worked for.

"What do you want with me? I don't have any money." You kept trying to struggle out of the chain but it was slammed down on the ground and you hissed as it sent pain through your ankle which was now throbbing in pain the moment it was flung down.

"We don't want money. I'm just here until Jisung comes to watch you. Your personal guard." The man leant back in his chair and smirked at you, he was staring at you trying to size you up as you tried to get away from him as fast as you could but it wasn't working. You couldn't go anywhere.

"Please tell me what you want.." You felt pathetic for begging to him like this but you wanted to know why you were there and how long they were going to keep you if it meant trying to play the weak victim than so be it.

"I don't want anything with you, but you may want to think about lying again. Lying gets you nowhere with Chan." He got up from the chair and walked over to you, bending down so he could come face to face with you looking you in the eyes.

"Chan doesn't like liars," He patted the top of your head as if you were nothing but a dog and smirked at you, popping some chewing gum in his mouth before getting up and moving away from you once again and going towards the staircase that lead up to a steel door where he slammed it shut and locked it tightly from the outside.

"Fuck." You whimpered as you were left down in the basement once again, you pulled at the chain trying to get out of it as much as possible. Wiggling the chains to try and loosen the screws on the wall but they looked fresh and you knew it was useless to even try harder than you were, it would only hurt more. You stared around the floor for anything to use on the lock but there was nothing, then you remembered your hair. You reached up and took a pin from it jamming it into the lock around your ankle and began to use it to pick the lock. It was no big deal, you used to pick locks on the other side of town all the time, trying to find somewhere to sleep whenever you ran away from home before your parents passed away but this lock was different. A simple pin from your hair wasn't going to crack it, the door opened and you panicked trying to get the pinout but it snapped instantly. You shifted so your ankle would be hidden from whoever it was coming down the staircase, you looked up to see the youngest one that had been with Chan the night before. His hair was a dark blue colour and he looked innocent, his name was Jeongin or at least that was what Jisung had called him at the table.

"You alright?" You were taken back, were you alright? What kind of question was that? You were chained up in someone's basement, you had no idea where you were or if you were even safe.

"You tell me, I'm chained up in some creeps basement with guys coming to check on me." You snapped back and he chuckled at you, coming down onto the floor and sliding you a sandwich on a plate.

"A peace offering," You stared down at the sandwich, your stomach sounded like a bear the way it was growling at you but you weren't about to take food from someone who had kidnapped you late at night and was currently holding you in a basement for their boss without someone giving you a reason why.

"Not hungry," You lied,

"What are you doing?" He asked nodding over at your ankle, you shifted again so he couldn't see but winced as the chain pulled to hard and cause more pain to spread through your leg.

"Can you please tell me what I'm doing here?" He sat down on the sofa where Changbin had been sat and you stared at him,

"Can you at least tell me your name? What does it matter if I'm clearly not getting out of here." He sighed looking down at you, he didn't want to do this and neither did the other boys but it was something they had to do. What Chan said went since he was their boss, he didn't care about anyone.

"Look...You ruined Chan's suit, it cost more than you could make in four months so I think he's going to make you pay for it." You shook your head,

"My father has money, how much do you-"

"We know you're not from this side of town and we know you don't have any family except for your cafe manager and your grandfather in that home." You froze in place. How did he know that? He stared down at you and bit on his lip. No-one knew about your grandfather except for Mrs Lu and the nursing home that he lived in,

"If I were you, I'd start being honest the moment Chan comes to see you, he hates liars." He whispered looking over at the door and then at the sandwich that was still on your plate. You weren't going to eat it in case he was trying to poison you or put you to sleep with some kind of drug inside of it.

"Suit yourself." He got up and walked to you, taking the sandwich and biting into it himself as he walked back up the staircase and left you down there alone.

"She thinks she's smart," Jeongin laughed dropping the plate down onto the kitchen table that you thought had been poisoned on something. He looked at Felix and Jisung who were both sitting there and having their own lunch wondering what had happened in the basement.

"What did she do?" Jeongin chuckled and swallowed the sandwich he'd been eating, he had made it for you. He thought it would make it easier for you to have a friend while you were there but you weren't going to be nice to anyone any time soon.

"She tried a bobby pin in the lock, obviously it didn't work but she's smart." They all stopped laughing when they heard Chan coming into the room everything falling into silence as soon as he came into any room,

"What's funny?" Chan looked at them all and Jisung stood up looking down at his plate and going to wash it up,

"She tried to get out, used a bobby pin but it snapped inside the lock," Chan laughed and looked over to the basement door that you were being kept in.

"I like her, she's a fighter." They all knew the real reason Chan was keeping you here and it was for the plan he had in store for you as soon as he got you to confess who you really were that was. The plan was to get you to confess that you worked for Namjoon, once he got that out of you he'd move onto drawing Namjoon out with you so he could kill him.

"Did she eat anything?" He only questioned because he could see the sandwich on the plate, Jeongin shook his head and Chan went over to the cupboard grabbing bits of food from the cupboard that he thought you would like.

"I'll make her eat."

The door creaked open and you squinted over at the entrance to see Chan, he was dressed in suit pants and a white shirt which was unbuttoned at the top, his tie draped around his neck and he had a smirk on his face as he came over to you.

"I brought you some food, eat it." It wasn't a suggestion, it was an order and he threw the food down by your feet. You swallowed the lump in your throat, you weren't afraid of him he just made you a little nervous to be around him since he was good looking there was no denying that. The way he held himself, as though he was better than you and that he was in control of everything around him made you on edge.

"I said eat it, you look sick." He kicked his feet up as he sat down on the sofa that was in the basement and then he rolled his sleeves up on the white shirt he was wearing exposing his veiny arms, he cleared his throat and waited for you to eat. Taking the packet of crisps you opened it up and took one of the crisps out and put it in your mouth staring at him with a condescending smile,

"Happy?" He licked his teeth and cocked his head to the side he liked that you were being cocky with him,

"Not until you finish the full packet." You stared down at the packet and pushed it away from you deciding you weren't going to do as he told you.

"Not hungry." You lied and he leant forward putting elbows on his knees and staring you down.

"Eat it before I ram them down your throat." You didn't flinch, you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he could intimidate you into being scared and follow his orders he wasn't in charge of you.

"Why am I here?"

"Eat the crisps and I'll give you answers."

"Give me answers and I'll eat the crisps." He laughed sarcastically at how you were acting with him, he liked that you didn't care what he thought and what others told you about him. He knelt down in front of you still laughing until he grabbed onto your chin and forced you to look at him.

"I could fucking kill you right now, you know that?" You stared into his eyes as he stared down into yours. On the outside, he was this cold-blooded killer but on the inside, he was a scared boy and you could tell all of that by one look. He looked down at your leg and then up to your face

"Struggle all you want but you won't get out of that chain." He smirked going back to the sofa and kicking his legs back up on the table.

"What do you want with me?" You barked at him and he rolled his eyes reaching down onto the table and pulling up a red file with your name on the front of it.

"I want to know who you work for, I want to know why you're lying about your life and I want to know who the fuck you are." He threw the file down in front of you and you pulled it open, inside were photos of you in both sides of town living your double life taken by police by the looks of it. Going to both jobs and changing on the bus, changing out of your gross cafe clothes into the nice clothes you wore for the other side of town.

"I work for Mrs Lu in a cafe on the bad side of town, I also work for you and I lie because my life is a fucking shit hole. Let me out of this fucking chain." You barked at him but he grabbed your face again and aimed you to stare down at the folder but he wasn't holding onto you tightly, it was just enough to direct you where he wanted you to look.

"Then why do I think you're lying to me, huh? Who lives a double life? People who have something to hide, someone who works for the mafia, people like you." You frowned at him and shook your head,

"Mafia people?"

"Don't play dumb, it doesn't suit you." You stared at him with a blank expression.

"I'm not playing dumb, I don't know anybody involved with the mafia but I'm assuming you do, considering I'm chained up in your basement." He smirked as you spoke back to him like this it had been so long since someone had tried to hold a real conversation with him.

"You don't work for Namjoon?" You shook your head and he hummed moving away from you and looking down at your ankle. It was starting to bruise and though he would never admit it aloud he felt bad that it was hurting you so much.

"I can loosen it if you promise not to run." You looked at him and then down at your ankle, it was in far too much pain for you to run but the moment he took it off you you were going to sprint as fast as you could.

"Please." You whispered and he moved closer to you pulling out the rest of the broken bobby pin and taking out a key from his pocket. He turned the key inside the lock and once it was off you didnt hesitate, you ran for the door but your legs were like jelly and the moment your left ankle hit the floor you screamed out and fell onto the floor.

"Silly girl. You've been chained up for 24 hours, your legs aren't going to work properly and your ankle looks pretty badly bruised as well." He sucked his teeth moving close to you and staring down at it trying to see if he'd broken it or not,

"Probably just some soft tissue damage. You'll be okay in a couple of days but until then." He bent down and picked you up and carried you over to the floor again where you had been sat. He turned you around and switched the chain over to the next foot so he wouldn't cause more damage to your foot.

"The next time you try to escape, I'll kill you." He got up from the floor and pointed at the file and then to the food.

"That's for you. I'll come down tomorrow and see if you're feeling more co-operative to work with us, I'd think long and hard though baby." He patted the top of your head just like Changbin had earlier and walked towards the staircase once again, your body seemed to yearn for him to come back. Beg for you not to let him leave you in this basement alone but the door slammed shut and the room was only lit up from the small window above your head. Flicking open the folder in front of you, you looked through all of the information they had on you. They had everything, including family history that you didn't even know, your mother and father had been scratched from the files since they were dead but your grandmother's records were there, her bills to Namjoon all displayed for you to see. You didn't even know she'd been taking money from him, no one had told you anything and it wasn't like your grandfather ever remembered anything like that.

A/n: This one was super short and boring but the next chapters are longer I promise

Tagline: @kneel-begyourpardon @snowy-meowl @moonprincessdiviniation @taestannie @km-98 @hugs4chan @calling-dips-on-j-hope @ncitythoughts​ @peachyhan​

[disasterofastory]

Christian Girl Part 3 (Halfdan x Reader)

Christian Girl Part 3

Halfdan x Reader

Warning: mention of death, smut

Here it comes the last part of Christian Girl with Halfdan. I tried to write smut so please tell me, what do you think because I feel a little bit awkward about it.

You still don’t know why the God brought Halfdan into your life. He probably wanted to challenge your faith in him, but you failed miserably. You couldn’t resist the tall Viking with tattooed face and blonde hair.

In your dreams, you still see his brown eyes and cheeky smile.

He had to leave almost a year ago with the others to stop Ivar. You didn’t hear from him since then. Your heard news about The Boneless and Bjorn, but nobody talked about Halfdan.

At night in the privacy of your room, you prayed for the Gods. You knew your God wouldn't help a pagan, and you had no idea how to talk with the Viking gods, but you had to try. You needed someone to help him on his journeys. You continued to work in the castle. You cooked and cleaned, and if you had a chance, you went to the forest to practice. It seemed everybody moved on with their lives, but you couldn’t. You waited.

You start to clean up the kitchen after breakfast when one of the servant girls runs in almost breathlessly. She looks upset, leaning on the table in the middle of the room. Her light brown hair is messy, and her eyes fearful.

“Are you okay?” You ask her, confused. Your hands are wet from washing the dishes.

“The Vikings are coming,” she pants. “The King wants to fight against them, but he commands everyone to leave the castle.”

You heard gossips about the pagans for weeks. Someone said Bjorn is here to side with Alfred, while others said he is with Ivar. You didn't believe any of them.

“Oh!” This is the only thing you can say after her words. In your mind, you already make plans for how to escape into the forest. Nobody care for a servant girl, so probably it will be the easiest part of your journey.

“Then go and pack your things,” you tell her impatiently. You don’t have time to waste. After she leaves, you dry your hands and go to your room.

Everybody is in panic after the King’s order, so you take advantage of the chaos. You grab everything you need then go to the abandoned corridors to escape. You know this building like the back of your hands. You know where to go to nobody see you on your way out of the castle.

After you reach the trees, you sit down on a log to catch your breath and gather your thoughts. You know you have to stay out of the busy paths, but you have to keep close to them, so maybe you will hear news from the others, and you have to stay near the river. You have weapons to protect yourself and to kill small animals to eat. You have furs to keep you warm at night and clothes which are more suitable for the forest. You change out of your dress before you continue your way deeper into the woods.

You live like this for a few days. You hunt and walk, and at night you try to sleep. Sometimes you hear travelers talk about the news. They say Bjorn and Ubbe negotiate with Alfred against Ivar, but the battle is unavoidable.

You bathe in the cold river on your fifth morning after breakfast, then go to the place where you know the fight will be. It’s probably not your best idea, but you can’t control yourself. You will hide in the woods so nobody will see you.

You walk four days before you reach your destination. You feel tired after your long journey, but you arrive in time.

The forest overlooks a valley where the battle will be, so you see everything. You recognize the King��s army and Ivar’s camp. You make a small camp too for yourself out of sight, hoping nobody will found you.

Every time you see a blonde Viking, your heart skips a beat, but you are too far to see their faces. You still don’t know Halfdan is here or not.

On your fourteenth day living in the forest, the battle starts. You see the armies run to each other, you hear the swords and the screams. Everything happens so fast, but in reality, the battle lasts for hours.

Your lungs hurt because you always have to warn yourself to breathe.

Dead bodies are everywhere, and you pray for the Gods to none of them is Halfdan.

Of course, you are not just a lovesick idiot. In the back of your mind, you make a plan if Ivar wins, and you never see your tattooed Viking again.

Before you know it, the battle is over. At first glance, you don't know why, but then you see a man fall. The people near him stop fighting, and soon the whole crowd is frozen. The Heathen army lost.

The sky is dark when you arrive at the King's camp, and your legs are shaking. It would be safer to stay in the forest out of sight, but you can’t wait anymore. If they see you, you can tell them you came to help the wounded.

Everything calmer than a few hours before. There are torches and campfires to give some light in the night. A lot of men are wounded, but they seem happy. Ivar is dead. They have every reason to celebrate.

Nobody cares for you while you walk among them.

You see him near the forest. He looks out of the dark trees still in his battle wear. As you get close to him, you start to become insecure. What if he forgot you? Or changed his mind? Or find someone else? You almost turn to hide, but he is faster than you. Before you can move, he looks into your eyes. His face and hair are bloody, and there are new scars on his skin, but he didn’t change much. You stop before him a few meters away, staring at him.

“Christian girl,” he says softly with a widening smile.

Your whole body is shaking when you jump in his waiting arms. You don’t care about the mud or the blood, you hug him like your life depends on it.

“I missed you,” you whisper to him. Your legs around his waist, your arms cling to his neck.

“I told you to stay in the forest,” he argues, but it isn't serious.

“I couldn’t wait any longer,” you tell him. For long minutes you stand and hug each other with your face in his neck.

“Halfdan, you didn’t tell me you have a woman.”

You jump at the foreign voice, and you want to climb out of Halfdan’s arms, but he doesn’t let you. He holds you closer with a proud smile.

“These lands are full of treasures,” he jokes with you in his arms.

“I’m Harald, Halfdan’s brother,” he introduces himself.

“I’m Y/N,” you tell him. “Halfdan told me a lot about you.”

“I hope not just the bad things.”

“No, you are important to him,” you answer, and with newfound bravery, you continue. “And because of it, I want to ask you to don’t risk his life ever again.”

The brothers are silent. They seem surprised then both of them start to laugh. Halfdan's arms draw you closer to his body, and Harald pats your shoulder in a friendly way.

“I like her,” he tells his brother and goes back to the others.

“So from now on, I have to ask permission to fight?” Halfdan teases you.

“W-well… if it’s okay?” You reply. You know you can’t change the Viking, and you don’t want to, but it’s not a secret that you want him safe.

“I can live with it,” he smiles. He looks tired but happy.​

He tells you about his year while you eat after you help him wash down the dirt, and you tell him about your last few weeks.

“So… what happens now?” You ask him at the end.

“Ivar is dead. Nobody will avenge him. Harald gave up on his dream to be King of all Norway so Bjorn will take the throne with his remained brothers.”

“And…” you start but can’t find the bravery to finish your sentence. He smiles slyly at you but doesn’t do anything to help you out.

“What?” He asks, smirking.

“Come on!” You hit his arms. “I didn’t hide in the forest for nothing!” you argue.

“Wherever I go, you will come with me,” he answers finally. He doesn’t ask you about your opinion. In his mind, you are his woman, and that’s it.

Halfdan grabs a flask of ale before he shows you his tent.

You don’t know what to do with yourself, it’s weird to be alone with him again, but Halfdan doesn’t feel the same. He lays down on the furs and reaches out for you.

“Come,” he says, and you follow him on the makeshift bed.

For a while, you just lay next to each other silently. Your head is on his chest while your arm hugs his waist, and he pets your back. You sip the ale when Halfdan put it to your lips, and it helps you to relax.

Your life changed forever. Nothing will be the same ever again. You are Halfdan’s woman as he said, and you have to learn how to live like a Viking. You are not really afraid of the others, you know, you will prove yourself to be with Halfan.

“What do you thinking about?” He asks after a while.

“You can’t call me Christian girl anymore,” you tell him.

“Why not?” He asks, his chest moves up and down with laughter.

“Because I’m not Christian anymore, am I? I’m with you.”

“Are you ready to throw away your faith for me?” He asks teasingly.

“I think it was never my faith,” you tell him. “I think I just needed somebody to show me something I can believe.”

“And what do you believe now?” He asks. His fingers move up and down on your back. You almost shiver whenever he reaches your side.

“You,” you reply simply. “I prayed for the Gods to bring you back to me.”

“I love you,” he tells you quietly. You think you misheard him, but when you get up from his chest, you see the sincerity in his eyes. He means it. You know it’s a rear moment. Halfdan isn’t an emotional man, he prefers to show you his affection with actions, not with words.

“I love you too,” you smile at him and lean down to his lips.

The kiss is slow at first. He let you lead and decide how far you want to go with him. You leave his lips to kiss down on his face and neck. He smells like ash and ale and herbs.

“Take it off,” you tell him when you can’t go lower because of his tunic. You sit up to help him to get rid of the shirt. You saw his upper body before, but now you can touch him however you want. You kiss him again on his lips and start to go down on his chest. You lick his collarbone, and he answers you with a moan. You move lower and try to hide a smile before you kiss his nipple. He moans again, and his fingers grab your hair to bring your mouth back to him. Your scalp starts to burn in a delicious way.

“Stronger,” you tell him, your breath hits against his lips, and he pulls your hair with more force. When you whimper, he moves on his side, so you lay next to him on your back. He starts to take the lead, but his movements are still slow and steady. He tries to find your boundaries, what you like and what is too much for you.

He didn’t ask, but he is sure you didn’t have sex with other men since you last saw each other, and you definitely didn’t have sex with a Viking before.

After a few kisses, he bites your neck before he continues to kiss you everywhere he can reach with his lips. He takes off your shirt and grabs your arms when you try to hide your bare skin.

“Don’t,” he tells you. “You are beautiful,” he murmurs and licks down between your breast. Your chest moves faster when he takes one of your breasts in his hand and starts to massage it, and after he licks the other one, he bites on it. Your trace the tattoos on his head with your fingers. He pecks your ribs and looks up at you when he reaches your waistband. You lift your bottom so he can take off your pants and panties. He grabs your thigh and opens your legs a little bit.

“You can be rougher, you know? I will tell you if it’s too much,” you tell him when you feel he holds himself back. His fingers twitch on your skin.

“Are you sure?” He asks between two licks on your bellybutton.

“I’m inexperienced, so you have to show me things. You have to show me how do you like it, so we will know it works between us,” you explain breathlessly.

“You are perfect,” he tells you in awe. He almost forgot how easy it is to be with you.

He grabs your waist and turns you on your hands and knees. He pushes down your head and upper body on the pillows and opens your legs more for him. You feel exposed, but the only thing you can do is moan and wiggle your butt. He kneels behind you, grabbing your butt cheeks. He plays with them, slaps them, and at some point, he bites them too before he goes lower.

“What are you-” you start but can’t end your words because of his tongue between your folds. You moan and whimper, and he has to grab onto you, so you don’t move so much. His nails almost break your skin, and you feel the furs on your nipples.

“Halfdan!” You scream when your legs start to shake. Your lower belly is on fire, and your whole body is tense before you explore and almost fall on the bed.

“I love your pussy,” he says breathlessly. You would probably blush if your body wouldn’t already on fire. “Stay like this,” he tells you when you want to change position. You feel him move behind you, you hear him get rid of his pants, and not long after it, he puts his cock between your cheeks. Both of you moan at the sensation. You are sure he leaves marks on your hip with his rough touches when he pulls you closer. He positions himself at your opening and starts to go deeper. His moves are slow and steady. He gives you time to adjust his size.

“All in,” he tells you. His voice is almost a growl.

“Oh, Gods, Halfdan,” you moan. You feel full and so good. “You can move! Please! Move!”

So he moves. He pulls out and goes back in faster and faster. He leans over you and grabs your breast to haul you up against his chest. You almost sit on his knees with his cock inside you. Your nipple peaks between his fingers while he sucks on your neck.

“Halfdan, I’m going to…” you whimper. One of your hands grab his hair, and with the other, you hold his arm to steady yourself. You tighten around him, and he growls in your ear.

“Cum!” He orders, and you do as you are told. You start cumming with him at the same time. His cum fills you and flows out of you into his lap when you stay like this for a few deep breaths. He hugs you close against him, his hands still on your tits. The world slows down, and everything goes quiet.

“You are perfect,” he pants, kissing your shoulder. You can’t move, so you just let him lay you down on the furs properly and draw you onto his chest.

You put your legs between his thighs and hug his waist closer to you.

“So what do you think?” He asks after a while when both of you catch your breaths. “Are we good together?”

“So good,” you murmur in his warm skin.

You fall asleep in his arms for a few hours to wake up in the middle of the night to him between your legs.

Your soul is still full of sins, but now you enjoy every minute of it.

[siriushxney]

: ̗̀➛ searing light | chapter two

— pairing ; darkling!dream x sun summoner!reader

— au ; shadow & bone

— wordcount ; 2.6k

— warnings ; fire, reader gets pushed around, rude soldiers/commanders

— note ; welcome to chapter two of searing light! I actually really enjoyed writing this part and coming up with how to twist the original story in my own little way — I hope you enjoy!

previous | next

when the moon was high and the sound around you was minimal, thoughts flowed easier — flowed into the streams of what if’s and premature regret and mourning. whatever happened the next day would either be a successful day — one to be celebrated with a feast unlike any other, or it would be another tick carved into the wood, next to the dozens of them that already were scratched in. you were sure that even those numbers were off, for when a certain number was reached without success, people started to lose faith.

this skiff however was designed for greatness — made by the hands of the second army, reinforced with grisha steel and said to be lighter — faster.

something wasn’t right.

if there is one thing that you had learned through your tough life growing up in ravka, it was that when your gut told you something — you trusted it. if your gut told you to avoid someone, you avoided them; if it told you to take a different path, you took the next path over; if it told you that no matter what anyone said, something was going to happen — you had to do something to stop it.

if not for yourself, for wilbur.

—

when the sun rose, and your boots were laced tightly — you made your way to the tent full of maps, careful to make sure your superiors were nowhere to be seen. the lot of them were seated in the food tent as they discussed today's trip and how long they thought it would last in the fold.

they had no shame when it came to talking about the failure of the second army when it came to this, and had even less shame when talking about the lives of their own people being lost. if ravka didn’t lose the war from the raging countries surrounding it, the fold was guaranteed to do the job for them.

walking into the tent that looked the exact same as it always did, despite being situated in a different part of ravka that you were used to. there were maps of different sizes displayed and thrown about, a rough and stained carpet laid on the grass and uncomfortable benches that you had known all too well pushed underneath tables.

quick feet brought you to stand in front of a cabinet which held map’s upon map’s — some of this part of ravka, and some of the ravka on the other side of the fold. the ravka that people on that side referred to as west ravka.

free from the royal blood on ravka’s soil that sat stuck behind the black barrier, west ravka sought out to become their own standing country — a hope that the fold would vanish, no longer clouded their minds. only the thought of independence and selfishness flowed through them.

“where are you…?” your tongue poked slightly out of the side of your mouth as you sited through the heap of yellow tinted paper, hoping to find anything and everything you could on what laid on the other side of the black wall.

beyond the fold - ravka

“aha,” the text at the top of the map caught your eyes. sifting through the numerous ones below it, you confirmed that you had found what you had come looking for. taking the maps in hand, making sure each was rolled up tightly so you could fit as many as you could into the small space, you rushed over to the trash bin in the corner.

with a look around the tent, and several peaks over your shoulders, you pulled out the box that weighed heavily in your pocket, despite weighing nothing compared to what you were used to carrying around.

what you were about to do would either get you a one way ticket to see the generals or aboard the skiff — either or, you could end up dead as a result.

a sharp flick of your wrist, a spark, and a light flowed from the tip of the match — the wood below it becoming charred as the flame ate at the wood with every second it burned bright. with one last look at the fully pieced together maps, and your ticket onto the skiff — you let the match fall — turning your back to it immediately, and not wasting any time as you fled the scene.

the sight of smoke wafting from the top of the tent, group’s of gasps and hurried feet rushing to it sounding from behind you.

blue eyes watching as you paced away hurriedly.

—

“well I don’t know what we're going to do.”

“we have to do something!”

“you think I don’t know that?!”

“we need to re-draw all those maps or the general will have our heads-“

“excuse me?” heads snapped in your direction, all your superiors looking at you with harsh eyes and deep frowns.

“what?”

you held back the scowl that wanted to cross your face at the women's tone, but for the sake of winning them over, you held yourself back. “If I may, I volunteer to go through the fold,” they looked at you with wide eyes. “i’ll re-draw everything-“

“you’re merely one mapmaker with thousands of miles to cover — we need more than one cartographer,” the woman shook her head as she looked down, her words directed at her fellow generals.

the other general thought, his eyes darting between you and the woman. “you’ll board the skiff shortly — alongside the rest of your squadron,” you fought to keep the look of shock off your face. “alert your tent of the decision immediately, you are dismissed.”

“sir, with all due respect-“

“you are dismissed soldier, that is an order.”

you couldn't fight orders — with a small nod and downcasted eyes, you shuffled your way back to your tent full of guilt and mind racing with second thoughts. all you wanted to do was get onto the skiff alongside wilbur, just you and youself alone — but in the process of doing so and with a selfish decision on your part, you had just put people who you had spent the last few years with in jeopardy.

it wasn't your intention at all.

lifting the flap of material that acted as a makeshift door to the tent, you walked in quietly, unsure of when to break the news or even how to start.

carey, a boy that you had gotten to know well over the years and someone who you considered to be one of your only friends alongside wilbur, stood at your arrival. his smile was bright and large.

“hey Y/N, do you wanna go for a walk? maybe watch the send-off together-”

“we have to board the skiff.”

heads around the tent shot up at your words, some eyes of questioning and confusion, others full of fear or anger.

luna shot up and paced to you hastily, giving you no time to react or prepare yourself as she grabbed you by the lapels of your uniform and swung you around so your backside was against the table.

with the force that she had shoved you into the hard wood, utensils and paper had gone flying — and your hands found purchase on the rough and spilled wood as you tried to steady yourself — jagged and pointed pieces pricking your skin.

“what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything-” you tried to pry her hands off of your uniform, but the sheer power she had was nothing you could fight with.

she was like a mouse who could kick a cats ass.

“luna let them go-”

“can it carey! they aren't into you so why don’t you just mind your own business and find someone else to fawn over,” it was no secret the boy had a crush on you — but in the heat of war and the constant fear for your life, there was no room for him or anyone else.

her fists still gripped your jacket harshly — your body jerking with every movement she made. “now, tell me what you did to get us all on that death trap, or saints help me-”

“whats going on here?” luna’s head had snapped over immediately, her hair whipping behind, and her hands disappearing just as fast as she turned.

tilting your head to the side, the first thing you noticed was the colour that stuck out like a sore thumb in the tent — bright purple. eyes trailing up the figure, you next noted the blonde hair that was draped over their shoulders. and lastly, the blue eyes that could hypnotize anybody they were simply batted at.

it was the grisha that you had made eye contact with a few days prior.

“nothing-” the grisha sent one look to luna and the girl immediately quieted.

“are you okay?” the grisha questioned you suddenly — the harsh look that once covered her face now melted into something more sincere — more concerned.

you pushed yourself up from your uncomfortable position that luna had managed to bend you in over the table, carey’s hands helping you in any way he could despite being brushed off. “I’m fine, thank you for your concern,” you stepped away from luna hesitantly — unsure of what the girl would do with her eyes still holding a deadly intent.

“I was sent here to lead you to the skiff — the group of you are running behind,” the girl mainly spoke to you, her eyes wandering as she spoke however. “I’d advise you to get your materials and get to the skiff immediately — anybody found at the camp who should be on the skiff will be punished.”

carey rushed to collect his things as soon as the words were muttered, luna trailing behind stubbornly, only leaving behind a glare directed at you, before her back was fully turned.

with the bag on your hip containing everything that you had needed, you made a move to exit the tent — the grisha following behind you immediately.

“you know I do have to ask — what were you thinking?” she asked as soon as the two of you had exited the tent.

“excuse me?”

“you exited a tent that had smoke pouring out of it, and didn't bat an eye when panic washed over everyone — I wanna know what you were thinking setting whatever was in there on fire-” you hand gripped her kefta quickly, your eyes wide and mouth opened in shock.

“be quiet would you?! I’ll explain everything if you just keep your voice down,” her eyes didn't meet your own, only observing your hand that wrinkled the tough purple fabric on her arm. you released it immediately with a short and quiet apology.

the blue eyed grisha looked up to you, to the skiff, and back to you — her eyes holding a glimmer of amusement. “I know you did it, and I have a feeling I know why you did it too — your lover boy is on the skiff.”

lover boy?

looking at the skiff, you could see wilbur, plain as day, looking at the two of you with confusion — or more to say confusion towards the grisha stood by your side, and anger towards you and your appearance.

“I don’t have a lover boy.”

“the tall curly haired one — it’s not hard to tell.”

you grimaced at that. you and wilbur were nothing more than friends, siblings to say the least — raised at the hip with minds so alike it was scary.

“that so-called ‘lover boy’ you speak of is wilbur, and I can guarantee there's nothing going on there.”

the grisha hummed quietly, her eyes bouncing between the two of you before finally sighing. “If you say so,” she offered you her hand. “I’m niki.”

as you went to introduce yourself, the harsh call of your name interrupted you — wilbur yelled your name as he dodged and squirmed his way through the crowd of people who made a move to board the skiff. you turned back to niki with a bashful smile.

“why am I being told that you're crossing the fold?” wilbur distanced himself from niki — unsure and untrusting of anyone who was gifted in the small science.

“because I am?”

“no you’re not.”

“yes they are.”

you knew wilbur wanted to snap back at the girl with a ‘I wasn't talking to you’ card, but the coat that adorned her body stopped him in his tracks. he had told you once before when the two of you passed a group of grisha women at your old camp that “grisha women were scarier then grisha themselves.”

wilbur was scared of the grisha in front of you.

“yes I am, and you can’t do anything about it,” you tried to bring the atmosphere to somewhere different — wilburs eyes coming back to you instead of the offput stare he was once giving niki.

“all aboard! skiff is leaving in t-minus two minutes!”

“well, that's our que,” niki gripped both your sleeve, and wilbur’s and dragged you to the bridge that led up onto the skiff. bodies rushing up, and some attempting to rush down — hands dragged them back on.

some people were in a frenzy to get off the skiff, while some stood stiffly looking out into what they were about to enter — eyes holding nothing more than fear and questioning.

questioning if they would return.

“you have nothing to fear, I promise — the new skiff was built by my colleagues and me. it was built to go faster,” niki spoke, her hand laying gently on your shoulder as she guided you and wilbur to stand on the side of the deck. “all you need to remember is to stay quiet, don’t light any lanterns, and most importantly — keep your head down.”

the squeak of the bridge’s hinges echoed throughout the skiff — the wood and steel alike being pulled up to close the entry and exit point. there was no way off unless you made a jump.

in less than a moment after the bang sounded from the bridge closing entirely, your body was jerked into niki’s — her hand coming to steady you, much like she did with wilbur as he swayed slightly.

every second you inched closer and closer to the fold, the unwelcoming and crip air nipped at your nose, ears, and cheeks — the sound of screeching and echoing howls the monstrosities that lived within let out, made your knee’s feel as if they would give out any minute.

being on the outside had been scary enough — but going in, head first was unimaginably more horrific. no nightmare or intrusive thought could have prepared you for what you were about to enter.

what you were about to experience.

the grisha and first army soldiers alike that stood near the front of the skiff disappeared into the black smoke when the skiff had finally breached the darkness, and second by second, that darkness had grown closer to you.

with her hands on your shoulder blades, and your wrist held tightly by wilbur — you took a deep breath.

the light disappeared and the air grew thick — breathing needing more forces, and your head beginning to pound due to the pressure drop.

you were in the fold, and there was no turning back.

—

crowds of soldiers and grisha gathered on the dock, watching as the skiff was engulfed by the black smoke — whispers of worry, reassurance, and mourning echoed about. they would wait for the news of the skiff not returning, or they would wait for a skiff full of allies and friends to return — goods in hand and smiles on their faces.

but he didn’t pay mind to any of them.

he stood tall against the harsh wind — the black cloak and kefta flowing with it, and hair blowing wildly. his eyes never leaving where the skiff had entered.

“general, the first army’s headman would like to speak with you before you leave for the little palace.”

“of course, tell him to meet me in my tent,” the grisha hummed in response and turned to relay the message to the leader of the first army. “oh and sapnap?”

“yes general?”

“tell george to keep his eye on the fold — I have a good feeling about this trip.”

if only he knew what would unfold inside of the darkness only miles ahead of him.

— authors note ; I didn’t want to put this at the start as to not spoil the meeting of a character, but I wanted to clarify that niki and wilbur are not love interests. strictly platonic. the dynamic will remain there however!

— taglist ; open

@dreamslittlebitch //

[septicace-writes]

For the made up title do dah: completely feral

Completely Feral

First of all thank you so much for sending this in, it is highly appreciated! I hope you’ll like it :) 

Summary: Geralt comes home from a hunt and gets a little jealous. 

Genre: smut

Warnings: explicit content

author’s note: I started this without a real direction except “jealous Geralt goes feral” and it was an interesting challenge to flesh that out on the fly. 

1.2k words

There’s two things that led to Geralt all but dragging you into your bedroom that day. One of them is that he had been gone for a few weeks off on a hunt and he missed you. He hates being apart from you for such long stretches of time, despite knowing full well that you can handle yourself. He misses your touch, your warmth, your love when he’s gone. And he misses watching you. Whether you’re working or reading or relaxing he doesn’t care, he just enjoys watching you. Taking in your presence and seeing how intimidated most men were by it. You’ve pulled many a smirk from his lips by shutting down unwanted advances in mere seconds. The unfortunate chap usually running rom the vicinity with his tail tucked.

And this is the second thing that led to you being pulled by your arm up the stairs and through the door and into his body. When Geralt returned, you were busy tending to your horse, having just come back from a ride. A ride you clearly hadn’t taken alone if the guy grooming his horse beside you was anything to go by. Geralt could see the two of you from quite a while away, across the field, but Roach was tired from travelling through the night and so he let her slowly trot towards his homestead rather than giving in to his desire and rushing.

Geralt learned a long time ago that he needn’t be jealous with you. He learned he could trust you and that you would always be his. Exclusively. Yet seeing you with this stranger right after he’d been gone for so long sparked that old familiar fire in him. The closer he got, the more he could see that the stranger clearly fancied you. Your laugher drifted over to him when you released the horses onto the field. And it is not the stranger’s hand on your shoulder that pushes Geralt over the edge. No, it’s the fact that you don’t recoil and push it off. It’s the way you just continue laughing at something he said. Geralt kicks Roach into a last gallop, suddenly no longer able to restrain himself.

You turn at the thunder of hooves behind you, the biggest grin forming on your face when you recognise your lover. The man beside you, he was a good fellow, new in town so you’d gone on a couple of rides together to show him around. And apparently, he was completely oblivious to the fact that you were spoken for. And you had been until now oblivious to the fact that he was flirting with you. Realisation struck you when he stepped up to you and put a hand around your waist looking at the oncoming rider.

You didn’t get time to twist out of his embrace, because next thing you know, Geralt has jumped off Roach and pushed him aside.

“Geralt!” you exclaim surprised, but that’s as far as you get before his lips crash onto yours, one hand on your neck and the other around your waist, pulling you impossibly close to his body. You instinctively meld into him, Geralt moving his lips down your jaw, peppering kisses down to your neck. You let out an uncontrolled moan when he bites into the soft skin.

“Ahem.” Your riding companion cleared his throat, which brings you momentarily back to earth. You let go of Geralt, pushing off him and straightening yourself.

“Right, I should probably introduce you two. Geralt, this is-“

“I don’t care!” Geralt’s voice is more a growl than anything else. He shoots the stranger a menacing glare.

“You should probably leave.” You say, giving the guy an apologetic look, but he doesn’t seem to understand.

“Will you be al-“ That’s as far as he gets before Geralt cuts him off.

“She’s mine! Now scram.” A shiver runs down your back at the threat in his voice. You trust him, but when his voice gets like this it strikes a little fear even into you. It speaks for the stranger’s courage that he doesn’t immediately drop everything and run.

“I do think, sir, that Y/N and I have spent some amiable time together over the past weeks while I have not seen you at all since coming here. Who are you to her?” You’re impressed, there’s only a small quiver in his voice.

You can feel Geralt seething behind you, he’s probably clenching his jaw in order to not tear into this guy right here and now you think.

“Listen, Ben, I don’t know what you thought, but we were only ever going to be friends. I’ve been off the market for a long time. I thought you knew. And you really should leave now, for your own good.” You nod towards the road back to Ben’s place, but don’t get to see whether or not he actually leaves because the next moment Geralt grabs your arms and drags you into the house.

Up in the bedroom, Geralt pulls you into him again, enveloping you in a passionate kiss while his hands roam over your body to free you from your clothes.

“What’s gotten into you?” you ask, panting, when the White Wolf pushes your naked body onto the bed. You watch him get out of his shirt and trousers, feasting your eyes on the body you had missed more than anything over the past weeks.

“You.” Geralt growls in response, caging you under him. “You need to remember you’re mine.” He kisses you again, one hand groping your heaving breasts. Your hands roam his back, clawing and scratching and trying to pull him closer. Geralt’s hand moves down your body, leaving a burning trail on your skin. He swallows your moan when two of his thick fingers enter you.

“I’ll never leave you for so long again.” He growls into your ear. “Not if it makes you forget that it’s only me who gets to make you feel like this.”

Whines and whimpers escape your lips as he speeds up his pace. Your hips move back against his hand in a frantic rhythm.

“Geralt.” You gasp out when he adds another finger. He’s hovering above you still, his eyes drinking in the sight of you, your panting form, blissed out on his fingers, god you drive him to madness.

“You make me go feral, pet” he growls, before withdrawing his fingers from your pussy. You let out a sound so sweet and needy, it makes Geralt lose the last ounce of control.

“Completely.” He enters you in one stroke. “Fucking.” He draws out to leave just the tip in. “Feral.” And with that he starts a punishing space, ramming into you. You dig your fingers into his forearms, letting out moans and yelps with each thrust.

“Geralt, I need to-“ you scream at one specifically aimed thrust, looking up at your lover with begging eyes, hoping he understands. And he does, one of his hands moves between you and rubs circles on your clit. They match the rhythm of his hips perfectly and within seconds, your release crashes over you like a drowning wave. Your back arches and your toes curl and your eyes squeeze shut so so tightly. Moments later, the hips pounding into you stutter and Geralt’s release washes into you.

He collapses onto you, still slightly panting and trapping you under his bodyweight.

[let-them-read-fics]

Hidden Love & High Society

Requested by Anon: “Can you do a Jisoo x fem reader where the reader is also an idol and Jisoo and the reader develop feelings for each other. But they're under super strict companies and Korea is a strict society so they're scared to admit their feelings. Some angst but a fluffy ending please!”

Pairing: Jisoo x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,049

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Self Doubt, Fluff, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: To the anon who requested: Thank you! I had a couple different ways I was going to go with this, but I think this version fits the best. I hope you enjoy it! Happy reading, everyone. Let me know what you think :)

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Falling in love with Kim Jisoo had been a gradual experience, beautifully terrifying and perfectly imperfect. You never intended it, especially with how strict your companies are, but there was no stopping it once it started. As much as you’ve tried to, you can’t deny the butterflies that take flight when your eyes meet, or how your heart skips a beat whenever she’s near. In your head, where you’ve convinced yourself this unrequited love will forever stay, things are perfect; you hold onto the memories there when the hard times come along, seeking solace in them. Sadly, the real world can never look like this -- especially for the two of you. Two women -- two idols, at that -- thrust into the limelight, immersed fully in Korean standards and societal roles. You don’t stand a chance against all of the odds, even with your group members at your side, behind you all the way. But with every stolen glance, every fleeting moment with her, your feelings become harder to hide. You’re only capable of so much pretending, and your cache is running out.

Being the leader of your group is a wonderful thing that you don’t take lightly, but it doesn’t come without its share of stress. The girls look up to you, always trusting you to take care of them and do what’s right, and that makes you want to be perfect for them. That fact doesn’t make the inner turmoil any easier for you: is it better to deny yourself of the one thing you want, for the sake of saving face? Or should you teach them to live for themselves, answering to no one else? That question persists in your mind, replaying like a mantra, working to drive you insane. 

Jisoo is much the same: she knows how unforgiving and heinous the media can be, and she isn’t willing to risk the group’s reputation over a silly crush. A silly crush, she always tries to remind herself, although it becomes more difficult with every new memory she makes with you. She’s done well in concealing her emotions this long, but you make her feel weak; a part of her resents you for how easily you can turn her into a blushing mess. All of your little mannerisms and quirks fuel the flame in her heart, and she’s growing more and more fond of the feeling. 

~~~~~~~ 

For Jisoo, nights like these are always the best: both of your groups are relaxing at the Blackpink dorm, everyone discussing the award show you just attended. The two of you are seated on adjacent couches, the rest of your members strewn about the room, some on the floor while others lounge on the sofas. From her spot, Jisoo has the most perfect view: warm light shines on you from the nearby lamp, accentuating your features in all the right ways. Her gaze softens as she watches you recount how it felt to hear that you’d won, your eyes bright and expression cheery. You rule her world without even knowing it, and sometimes she seriously considers just listening to her heart and admitting her feelings. 

Lost in her thoughts of you, she doesn’t even realize that she’s leaned in closer, her eyes dropping down to your lips as you speak. You act like you don’t notice, doing your best to hide the blush that rises to your cheeks at the thought of having her full attention. There’s always been an unspoken tension between the two of you, and all of your members are aware of it. As Lisa takes control of the conversation, you sit back a bit, relaxing into the cushions of the loveseat. At the feeling of the material against your skin, you’re reminded of the time that Jisoo straddled you here, tickling you relentlessly as you squirmed and laughed. The memory, one of thousands that she’s the star of, brings a smile to your face.

Eventually the conversation shifts, with everyone ranting about how hungry they are. Of course, being the unnie that you are, you offer to make some food for everyone -- you enjoy cooking, but you also know that they’re all too lazy to make anything for themselves. 

“Jisoo, would you care to help me? I know I’m pretty great and all, but I’m not so sure I can feed this gang by myself.”

She has to stop herself from agreeing before you’re even done asking. Needless to say, her smirk widens as she says, “I’d love to help,” before standing up and trailing in your wake.

As the two of you make your way out of the room, a quiet chorus of ooo’s can be heard from the girls. You send them a stern look, but it only makes them giggle even more than they already are. Jisoo’s thankful that you’re turned away from her right now -- she has to bite her lip to contain the dorky grin on her face.

~~~~~~~

Upon entering the kitchen, you retrieve two aprons from the hook located beside the other entryway. The room is spacious and open, with plenty of countertop to work on and even an island in the middle. Perfect, you think to yourself. Jisoo leans into you as she wraps the material of the apron around your form, securing it in place with a light tug. You help her right after, and try hard not to get distracted by the warmth that radiates from her. 

To anyone other than the two of you, getting so flustered over such a simple act would seem ridiculous. You had long ago mastered the art of subtlety, though, quickly learning how important it is in your line of work. In a weird way, being so restricted added even more meaning to the small things -- light touches asking, “How was your day?”, soft smiles saying, “I’ve missed you.” Everything had a hidden message, a secret purpose between the two interacting. You spoke without words, living in a realm of quiet boldness.�� 

Now, equally as giddy in each other's presence, the two of you begin cooking.

~~~~~~~

By some miracle, you had managed to whip out a fairly big meal for everyone in just under an hour. The spread consisted of ramen, tteokbokki, dumplings, soup, and some other random things your members requested. Quickly, everyone is called into the dining room, and they begin making their plates. 

“Crap, I’ll be right back. I forgot to cut up the veggies.” You announce as you set off back to the kitchen, a pep in your step; preparing the food had made you realize just how hungry you are, and you want to hurry back. Perhaps that’s where your mistake laid; about halfway through the batch of veggies, in the rushed state that you were in, you miscalculated the slice, and the sharp edge of the knife cut into your finger. It wasn’t too deep, but it was enough to draw blood immediately, the red liquid running down your hand without restraint. 

“Oww!!” You call out to no one in particular as the pain seeps in.

At the sound of your strained voice, Jisoo practically races to the kitchen to check on you. The other members are concerned too, but they know that she’ll take care of you. (Besides, they’re busy chowing down on the food... but we won’t mention that). 

“Y/N?? What happened?” She’s frightened, completely worried about you. 

You fill her in to the best of your ability, feeling a little lightheaded as you catch a glimpse of your hand. She wraps you in her embrace, steadying you, and grabs a towel. You’re unable to stop the pained hiss that leaves you at the pressure she adds to the tender skin in order to stop the bleeding. She sends you a regretful look, paired with a quick sorry, as she walks you to the bathroom.

Once there, she puts the lid down, carefully setting you down on the toilet. The cold surface of the porcelain makes you tense up, but it’s successful in taking your mind off the pain, if nothing else. Your eyes shyly trail up her body as she stands on her tippy toes, stretching up to reach the top shelf of the medicine cabinet. How does she manage to always look so good?

“Here, let’s rinse it off first.” It’s a request and a command wrapped into one, and you readily agree. One of her arms loops around your waist as she helps you stand, and you hold onto her with your good hand. She tries not to think about how your fingertips run over her collarbone, lightly stroking the skin there, absentmindedly. Focus, Jisoo, she tells herself. Even with the slight grimace on your face, you look breathtaking. After all, you’re art to her -- she would spend hours studying you if she could, imprinting every detail of you into her mind. 

You lean against the smooth counter of the sink, feeling your hip bones press onto it, and you wobble a bit. Jisoo notices this, but both of her hands are busy with cleaning your injured one off -- thus, she does the next best thing: gently, she repositions herself so that one of her legs is behind you, and she presses her own hips into you. Once you’re secured against the counter, she puts her focus back on her previous task. Meanwhile your brain is having trouble functioning at the proximity of your bodies; she’s being bold. You steal a glance at her in the mirror, but she appears cool and collected -- the complete opposite of you right now. 

After the bleeding has slowed dramatically, she returns you to your seat and grabs the bandages. She crouches in front of you, a reassuring smile on her lips as she makes sure you’re feeling okay. Once your finger is patched up, she takes you by surprise: she places a small kiss to it, her hands still cradled around yours lovingly. 

Likely from the blood loss, a strange surge of confidence comes over you, and you reach forward to run your thumb across her bottom lip. She’s a little shocked, with how her eyes open a little wider and her breath hitches. The two of you stay like that, looking at each other, a silent war of wills being waged. 

In that instant, Jisoo is forced to confront her feelings. She had long ago lost count of how many times she’s wanted to kiss you. To feel your body aligned with hers, your racing heart against her chest, minds running wild with all of the new possibilities being unlocked. It would be a huge step, no doubt -- one that offered no chance to turn back, no place for fear to reside any longer. It would feel like finally solving a puzzle, all of the pieces coming together in just the right ways. As terrifying as that leap would be to make, Jisoo would do it for you. The idea became a little less daunting with every step closer the two of you got to one another.

And so, she does. Jisoo leans forward fairly quickly, capturing your lips in a hesitant kiss -- if she would’ve gone slower, she knows she would’ve chickened out. A light tremble runs through her, proving just how nervous she is. At first, you relax into the kiss, moving your lips against hers in perfect time; once your brain catches up with your heart, though, you pull away. 

“I- I can’t,” you stutter out, mind still a little foggy at what just went down. You lick your lips without really meaning to.

Her expression quickly dims, now looking dejected at your rejection. As she goes to stand, one of your hands lands on the collar of her shirt, holding her in place -- you don’t want her to misunderstand you.

“If we do that, I won’t be able to stop myself.” 

“Who says we have to? I’m sick of holding back.” Her hands are resting on your thighs now, eyes watching you intently as she waits for your response. She’s just a breath away from you, sitting right in the palm of your hand. 

You panic and say, “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”

Your change of heart confuses her, but she respects your wishes nonetheless. Just as quickly as she had appeared before, she’s gone, leaving you to think about what just happened. 

You sit there, already missing her presence, and you hate yourself a little more. How could you be so stupid? The opportunity was right there, ripe for the taking, circumstances perfectly aligned, and yet you let it all slip away. Even still, your mind justifies your cowardice for fear of the fall out that would ensue. This is for the best, though it hurts. Keeping Jisoo at arm’s length in the name of protecting her had become the customary thing to do, and you fell right back into the habit. To be with her is to limit her, and you can’t bear the thought of that. She deserves to be showered with love and attention all the time, not hidden away and forced into secret meetings. What kind of life would that be?

~~~~~~~

The rest of the evening hosts a newfound tension, one full of uncertainty and longing. The two of you are deep in your thoughts, neither of you knowing where to go from here. She tries to forget how your lips felt, the rhythm that they fell into with hers; but she can’t get it out of her head.  

Before long, your members decide to call it a night, and you’re being whisked away. Somehow, it’s a combination of exactly what you want, and the complete opposite -- what are you to do now? Where do you stand with Jisoo? Your feelings are so overwhelming that it’s almost too much to handle; so many questions float around in your mind, begging to be answered by her. 

Quick goodbyes are given, and you can’t find it in yourself to even hold her gaze for more than a few seconds at a time. Surely you’ve hurt her: knowing that fact is bad enough -- you can’t stand the thought of seeing the pain in her eyes, her smile even a little faded because of your own doing. It tears you up, and your speedy exit is a testament to that.

~~~~~~~

2:41 AM

You’ve spent the better part of the night tossing and turning with no hope of getting any sleep, no end in sight for this self-made torture. Regret runs through you every time you replay the events that unfolded, and you feel a little more hopeless with each passing second. 

Why did she have to kiss you? It’s impossible to contain your feelings now, the emotions far too abundant to be bottled up any longer. Your lips remember how hers moved against them, her gloss spreading at the contact. She tasted like some tropical fruit, sweet and foreign on your tongue. Being with her is like taking a late night drive through the city, windows rolled down with the radio playing your favorite songs. She makes everything feel possible, somehow, and you secretly love the spontaneity of it all. You want more than anything to just give in, to relent after all this time. Clearly she feels the same, right? If that kiss meant anything, then surely she did. So why should you care about the rest of it? If being with you is what she wants, who are you to deny her?

~~~~~~~

“Y/N?” Her voice is sleepy, yet it still holds a layer of shock; likely given the fact that you’re at her door at such an ungodly hour. 

“Did I wake you up?” 

She pauses for a beat, seemingly deciding on what to say, before replying, “...no. I can’t sleep.” 

“Neither can I,” you confess, hoping that she’ll put two and two together. 

“Listen, I’m sorry for earlier. I shouldn’t have done that without asking first.” For a second, your heart stops, and you almost chicken out again. 

“I’m glad you did, Jisoo. Because it made me realize how much I like you.” You listen to your heart, the admission coming out more confident than you expected. 

She’s stunned, to say the least, her eyes blinking a few times in confusion. “I thought--” she starts, but you interrupt her.

“I’ve spent all of this time pushing you away when all I’ve ever wanted was to be close to you. To be with you. I’m just so scared of what people will say, you know? There’s no turning back after that.”

“I wouldn’t want to, Y/N. I’d rather be happy with you than live like this. To hell with them, they’re always gonna have something to say about us. You and I can figure it all out together.” She smiles at the end of her statement, a tender hue in her eyes that you’ve never quite seen before. 

As you stand there in her doorway, the slight chill of the night breeze ghosting over your skin, giving you goosebumps, everything clicks. It feels like coming home, something that was always destined to be, and you can tell she feels it, too. You close the distance, finally allowing your walls to crumble away. Her arms are around you, and her presence is actively soothing any remaining fears you may have. Only she is capable of that; you’ve never felt safer than when you’re with her. You run a hand down her arm, lacing your fingers with her own in a sweet embrace. She relaxes into you, now able to trust that you won’t leave. 

Though the kisses started off sweet, they’ve turned more desperate; the two of you are eager to make up for lost time, after all. Following an especially bruising kiss, you pull away breathlessly, and rest your forehead against hers. “Can I come in?” You ask shyly, ducking your head down a bit. Two of her fingers hook underneath your chin, raising your head so that your eyes can meet hers. “I’m not letting you get away this time.” With that, the two of you retreat to her room, hand in hand. You spend the night tangled up in each other, joining forces to write your new destiny together from scratch. 

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Thanks for reading!!!

[moon-light-jukebox]

“All you have to do is ask.” Chapter 6 - [Reid x Reader]

previous chapter // series index // next chapter

Summary: After a long stretch of crimefighting, Reader and Spencer finally get a chance to spend some time together. Reader is ready to give Dr. Reid the proper introduction to female domination and BDSM he asked for.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x (Female) Reader

Category: 85% Smut, 10% Fluff, 5% Angst.

Word Count: 7.9k for Chapter 6

Content Warnings: BDSM, Femdom, thigh riding, pegging, orgasm denial, spitting, slapping, bondage, sub drop, aftercare, brief mention of menstruation (just in case that needs a warning). This chapter is filthy, y’all. 

A/n: Before we begin, I wanted to give a small warning. When I started this story, I wanted to give an honest portrayal of BDSM/Femdom. The before, during, and after are equally important. Sub/Dom drop is a very real and emotional thing. But don’t worry, Reader is always there for our nervous boy.

y/n = your name. y/l/n = your last name. Italicized text is Reader’s thoughts.

-- Chapter 6 – “Dirty thing” --

Things started to move so fast after Illinois. We arrived home late Sunday night only to be called back out on Monday morning to assist the Tucson Police with a child abduction. We were finishing up the paperwork when the call came in from Florida about a series of car-jackings that weren’t really car-jackings.

It had been more than 2 weeks since that night in the hotel room, and all I had since then were just moments with my Dr. Reid. He sat next to me on the plane sometimes, his hand resting on my thigh when he was certain no one could see. He had placed a kiss on the back of my neck while we were standing in the conference room in Florida. I was surviving on these stolen moments.

Spencer seemed to be happy with our first BDSM experience together, which was a relief to me. I had never had a submissive that was inexperienced before. I felt a great deal of pressure where he was concerned; I knew the toll one bad partner could have on a person.

Some nights Spencer would call me from his hotel room. I would give him instructions on how I wanted him to touch himself; listening to his desperation grow every time he brought himself to the edge and I pulled him back. We experimented a bit with degradation. Learning the complexities of Spencer Reid was quickly becoming one of my favorite pastimes.

After Florida we made a brief stop in Alabama; Hotch informed us that we were only spending one night here and that we would be departing at 7:30 am the following morning. Our unit chief also swore that we were going to have the weekend off; no interruptions. I’ll believe it when I see it, was all I could think. Glancing around to the rest of the team, I could see they agreed with me.

We all had separate rooms that night, thankfully. If I had to listen to Emily snore for one more night, I might lose my mind. I wasn’t sure how JJ did it. Coming into my room, I kicked my shoes off and headed for the bed. I pulled my phone out of my bag before I very unceremoniously flopped down on the bed. The pace of the last 2 weeks was starting to wear on me.

I brought up my text messages when there was a hesitant knock on my door. It was just past 8 pm; it was risky, but I knew it had to be Spencer. I hurried towards the door, throwing it open to reveal his sheepish face. Wasting no time, I grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him into the room.

“What are you doing?” I hissed. “Someone could have seen you.”

"I'm not allowed to go to my friend's room to hang out?"

He has a point. “Well, you never know! It’s better to be safe.”

His full lips turned down into a pout. “I just wanted to spend some time with you. I missed you, y/n.” Is my heart fluttering like that a sign of a medical problem? I wondered. “And not just the…stuff we do. I just…I just missed being with you.”

How could I stay mad at that? “I missed you too, baby.” I took his hand in mine, guiding him over to the bed. He propped up on the pillows beside me, both hands coming up to loosen his tie.

“Can I ask you a question?”

I snorted a bit. “Yeah, Doc, I think you can ask me anything you want at this point.”

“Well,” his cheeks were starting to turn pink. “We’ve been…” I wonder what he’s gonna call it. “…serious”Hmm, that’s fair. “for almost 4 weeks now, 27 days and 14 hours, give or take, depending on when you wanted to say this started.”

“Get to the point, darling.”

“Right,” he muttered. “Well, we’re supposed to have this weekend off. And I don’t have any plans.” He dropped his eyes to his hands which were twisting nervously. “I understand if you have plans, of course. Or you’re just not in the mood. Statistically speaking, given the time we’ve spent together,” your likely to have your period soon-“

“Woah,” I interrupted. “Let’s pump those breaks, Doc.” Spencer looked horrified that he had rambled on so much and equally relieved that I had stopped him. “First of all, I have an IUD. I don’t get my period very often.” I can’t believe he’s talking about my period. “And second, the only plans I have this weekend involve grocery shopping and laundry.”

“Oh,” he said quietly. “Me too.”

I pulled my lips together between my teeth to try and suppress my smile. “Are you asking about my weekend plans because you’re interested in being a part of them? Or just out of curiosity?” Come on, Doc. All you have to do is ask me.

“I was-I was wondering if you wanted to spend some time together this weekend? If you’re not busy.”

My sweet, sweet boy. I stretched my body up, bringing my lips to his. I brushed my mouth over his in a very sweet and unhurried kiss. “No, Doc. I’m not busy.” I felt his lips smile against my own. “And maybe we can try some new things if you’re interested.”

“I’m more than interested in everything related to you,” he breathed against my lips.

--

It was decided that Spencer would come to my apartment Saturday in the early evening. I left the exact time up to him, in case he had anything he needed to do on this rare weekend off.

It was around 2 pm when my phone chimed with a text message from him.

“What time is okay for me to come over?”

I laughed out loud; I should have expected this. “Whenever you want, Doc.”

His response was immediate, which was also rare. “Can I come over now?”

“Sure, Doc. But I want you to bring something with you.”

--

I pulled open the door a short time later to find a very nervous looking Spencer Reid. Even out of work, he was still dressed the same as always. He had dark slacks on, a navy shirt, and a cardigan, he had forgone the tie today, and he was clutching the strap of his messenger bag for dear life.

“Hi, Doc,” I greeted him with a huge smile before waving him in. I saw him taking inventory of my apartment. From the art on the walls to the rug on the floor to the books on the bookshelf. "You need a bigger bookshelf," he said at last.

He wasn’t wrong. “I suppose I do. But not all of us can have a whole wall as a bookshelf, Doc.” I put my hand on his arm, pulling him into my living room, then down onto my couch. His entire body was tense, his eyes moving around nervously. I leaned closer, putting my hand on the side of his face, drawing his gaze to meet mine.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” I reminded him.

“I want to do this. I do.” He swallowed nervously, flexing his fingers. “I just…I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what’s going to happen. And I don’t want to mess up. And I’m so nervous that I’ll do something wrong.”

I leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Hey, hey. Take a breath. I’m serious. Take a deep breath.”

He rolled his eyes but complied.

“Spencer, I don’t expect you to just come in here and jump into a world that you’ve never been a part of before. I’m nervous too.”

That had his eyes widening. “You are? But why? You know what you’re doing.”

It doesn’t feel like I do. “Every person is different, Spencer, and I haven’t cared about a submissive the way I care about you in a long time.” My boy smiled at that. “Before we do anything, we’re going to let you get comfortable. I’m not going to do anything that we haven’t already discussed. If you feel uncomfortable, say “yellow” and I will pull back. If you don’t want to do anything more, say “red” and we will stop right then.”

He bit his full bottom lip, his eyes widening as he continued to meet my gaze. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Just when I think my heart can’t possibly handle another crack in it. I cupped his jaw in both of my hands. “You could never disappoint me, Spencer. Never.” I said the words with 100% sincerity and honesty. It was true. “Even if you decide this isn’t what you want and you walk out right now, I’ll never be disappointed.” If he left right now I would feel a lot of things, but disappointment in him wouldn’t be one of them.

“Okay,” he breathed. “Can…Can I kiss you now? I don’t know-“

I leaned closer, my lips hovering millimeters from his own. “Yes,” I whispered. “You can kiss me.”

His lips were tender as they brushed mine. It was like nothing we had done previously mattered, my nervous boy was still so afraid, but still so desperate and so curious.

I pulled back right as his tongue flicked over the seam of my mouth, resting my forehead against his. “Let’s not get carried away,” I chuckled. “I still need to talk to you.”

Spencer sat back, his hands folded on his lap, looking at me expectantly.

Forever the eager student. "The scene begins when I send you into the bedroom alone. It ends when you cum. That can always change if you decide you want it to stop." He needed to know that. “Since this is your first experience, I want you to be prepared for some pretty intense emotions once we’re done, I promise I’ll be right here with you to get you through anything, should you feel it.” My boy’s eyes were wide, but he nodded. Still so trusting. “I’ll be using toys on you this time. I ordered them a few weeks ago and they’ve all been sterilized.”

His brow quirked at that. “You had to buy them?”

It was impossible to contain my laugh. “I didn’t think you’d be okay with toys that had been used on other people, no matter how well I sterilized them.”

The horrified expression on his face did nothing to help me suppress my laughter.

“Anyway,” I went on, still attempting to get myself under control. “I have various sizes for different things. I assume you’ve never done any sort of anal play on your own?”

There’s that blush. “No, y/n, I haven’t. Does that matter?”

“No, sweet boy, not in the way you think. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable. So, we will start with smaller sizes. If you decide you like it, we’ll work up to bigger ones. Or if you like the small ones, we can stick with those.”

He was shifting his hips unconsciously. “You’d be okay with that?”

Moving quickly, I lifted my leg over both of his, my hands pushing his shoulders to the back of the couch, my heat settling over his cock. He’s already a little hard, I thought with a smirk. I leaned forward, my mouth finding the softness of his neck, my lips skimming down to his pulse point before placing a soft kiss there.

Spencer groaned softly, his hands resting on my hips. He knew our scene hadn’t started yet, which made him bolder with his touch.

Kissing my way up to his ear, I took the lobe between my teeth, tugging softly, before I spoke. "I just want to fuck you, Dr. Reid. I don't care what size cock I fuck you with." I don't know if he shivered at the feeling of my breath against him or at my words. Hopefully both. I placed one last kiss on his neck before I moved off of him.

His bewildered expression amused me greatly. “But, before any of that, did you bring what I asked?”

It took my brilliant boy a second to remember what I was talking about. He reached for the messenger bag beside him. “Yes,” he muttered, opening the bag to pull out several books. “But I wasn’t sure what sort of book you wanted me to bring. So, I brought a few different options.” He set 4 books down on my coffee table. “What are they for?”

“You’re going to read to me,” I said, not attempting to hide my smile.

"…I am?" At my nod, he said, "Oh..okay. Do you want to do that now?”

“Don’t look so disappointed, baby.” I held out my hand to him. “Come with me.”

Curious as ever, my boy followed me into my bedroom, his eyes scanning over the bed, resting on the small chest that sat at the end of it.  

“…Are we…” he trailed off.

"Sort of. I wanted to try something first before we officially start.” I turned to him, my fingers moving slowly up his chest until I reached his collar. “It will help me get you ready for later. Is that okay?” Still so nervous. Spencer nodded quickly; his pupils were already beginning to dilate. I rose up on my tiptoes to press a kiss to his pouty mouth.  "We're not really in a scene right now. I know that can be confusing, and it's not something I would normally do, but you've never done this, so I thought it would be best." I pressed another kiss to his jaw.  "You can touch me, just not under my clothes yet. Alright, baby?"

He mumbled his response while I pulled him forward until the back of my knees hit the bed, bringing him tumbling down with me. His hands tangled in my hair when my mouth found his. I didn’t pull away this time when his tongue flicked over my lips. I let him in with a soft sigh, moving my hands to tug on his soft, messy curls. I shifted until my pelvis was aligned with his, beginning to rock slowly.

This whole exercise was a bit of a tease, but I needed for him to be aroused for what I had planned. The more aroused he was the better.

I tugged his shirt out of the waistband of his pants, running my hands underneath the fabric. "Hey," he whispered, pulling back to smile at me. I ignored the way my heart fluttered at his tone. “You said not under the clothes.”

Smiling back at him, I hooked my leg around his hips, pulling him down further. I used that momentum to flip him onto his back while I straddled him. He looks so surprised, I thought smugly. He knows I help teach seminars on defensive tactics.  

“Wrong again, Dr. Reid,” I murmured, my lips moving down his cheek to his jaw, to his ear. “I said you couldn’t put your hands under my clothes, baby,” I whispered against his ear. “I can do whatever the fuck I want to you.” I brought my hand up to wrap around his throat, applying a small amount of pressure to each side. I pressed my still covered pussy against the bulge in his pants. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

Spencer didn’t even wait until the words were out of my mouth before he started to whimper. I lifted my body until I was sitting up then I brought my hands to his belt. My fingers were unzipping his fly before I spoke again. “I asked you a question, Dr. Reid. Or does that memory of yours stop working when you become a whimpering, needy little mess?” My words were harsher than they had ever been with him before; he’d really enjoyed the degradation we had done so far and said he was open to pushing it a bit further. Ask and you shall receive, baby.

I moved off of him then, rising to my feet at the side of the bed. First, I slid his shoes off. Then I reached up to pull his pants down. Then my thumbs hooked in the waistband of his underwear. I let out an exaggerated sigh as I climbed back on top of his body. My lower body was still completely covered but he was bare from the waist down.

He wasn’t prepared for when my right hand shot out and grabbed his face. My thumb digging into the left side of his face. “That’s twice you’ve not answered me, Dr. Reid.” I lifted my hand from his face and quickly brought it back down quickly. Not as hard as I had the last time we were together like this. Not yet.

“I’m sorry, Miss,” he whimpered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Are you?” I moved my hand down to grip his hard cock in my hand, squeezing him, enjoying the way his eyes fluttered at the action. “I don’t know if I believe that, Dr. Reid.” My hand was pumping him steadily now. “I think you need to apologize a bit better than that.”

His eyes shot open and he subconsciously licked his lips, causing me to chuckle and still my hands movements. “Oh no, you can’t have that. You haven’t earned that, my nervous boy. Look at you. Look how much your cock is leaking precum already.” I brought my hands up unbutton his shirt. “You’re just a needy thing, aren’t you? It’s almost pathetic.”

Spencer was shifting his hips again, trying to get some sort of friction. “I’m sorry, Miss.”

Once his shirt was unbuttoned, I brought my hands up to his throat, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. “I know.” I lifted up, raking my nails down his pale chest. “Which is why you’ll be my good boy now, won’t you?”

He nodded quickly, his eyebrows coming together when I moved off of him. I knelt in front of the trunk at the end of my bed. He propped himself up on his elbows as I opened the chest and pulled two items out before I moved back over towards him.

“Move up the bed, lay in the center.”

Crawling back onto the bed, I hovered above him, before I began to move down his body. I kept eye contact with him the entire time. It’s okay, baby. I would never hurt you. “Do you know what this is, Spencer?”

I think hearing his name surprised him; he forgot that we weren’t technically in a scene yet. I had only acted this way because I wanted to bump his simmering arousal up to a flaming inferno. I knew my boy would become more nervous if he wasn’t a whimpering, desperate mess. He nodded.

I pushed his legs up until his knees were bent, then I kissed up his right thigh, moving towards his cock. “I want you to be ready for when I fuck you.” I offered in way of explanation right before I moved to run my tongue up the underside of his cock.

Spencer threw his head back, tossing it against my pillows. I wrapped my fingers around the base of his cock while I moved him into my mouth. I didn't suck as hard as I normally did, instead of letting saliva slip from my mouth to coat him. After a few moments, I pulled off.

"I want you to touch your cock, Spencer," I said, uncapping the lube. "You're not allowed to cum. Remember that when you touch yourself. If you get so close that it's painful to stop, you have no one to blame but yourself. And if you cum, I will punish you."

His Adam's apple bobbed, his eyes moving from the butt plug to my hands then back to his cock. He wrapped his long fingers around it while I coated the plug with lube. Eyes fixed firmly on my hands; he started a slow rhythm. What a good boy.

I stroked his thighs as I moved the plug into position against his ass. His face was flushed with a mix of arousal and embarrassment, I think. I just smirked at him. “Don’t get shy with me now, baby,” I said as I slowly began to push inside of him. “I’m going to have you begging me to fuck your tight little ass before the day is over.” He whimpered, his hand speeding up slightly. “You do know that, don’t you, Spencer? I’m going to make you such a little slut for me.” The plug went in further, with almost no real resistance from him. “Jesus, it looks like you’re already a fucking slut.” His whimpers and groans were coming faster now. “Look at how you’re taking this plug,” I started to fuck it into him slowly. “I knew you were dirty, Dr. Reid. But I didn’t expect this.”

With one final small push, it was seated inside him. I reached to grab his hand, pulling it off of his cock. His lip was between his teeth, his forehead dotted with sweat. "You did so well, Spencer," I praised him. "You're more needy than I thought. I think I might make you bounce on my cock later." I moved off of the bed, reaching down to pick up his underwear before I tossed them to him. "I thought it would take some time to get you to ride me, but you're such a little slut, I'm sure you'll be begging for it soon."

He looked so confused, his fingers picking up his underwear. “Wha-“ he panted, his hips moving against my bed, already starting to be overwhelmed by the sensation.

“Put on your underwear, Dr. Reid; leave your shirt unbuttoned. Then come back into the living room.” I gave him a wide smile. “You still have to read to me.”

--

I sat on the couch, flipping through the books Spencer had brought, waiting for him to emerge from my bedroom. He really had done so much better than I expected. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I was going to have him bounce on my cock. The thought of him moving over me, his head thrown back while I pumped his cock caused heat to pool between my thighs.

My eyes didn’t raise to look at him when he walked into the room. He sat to the left of me, where he had been before. His cock was still hard, his precum was leaving a damp spot on his underwear. “Which book do you want to read me, Dr. Reid?”

He groaned. “I-I don’t know if I can finish the whole book like this,” he mumbled, flushing a deeper red that went down to his neck.

“You don’t have to finish, darling boy.” I rose up from the couch then, undoing my pants before shimming them down my hips. “You just have to read to me until I cum.”

Spencer’s eyes went wide. Flickering from the books then back to where I was removing my shirt. I wasn’t paying attention to what book he picked; ultimately, it didn’t matter, I’m not sure I would be able to pay enough attention during this to even process what he was reading.

I stood before him in my bra and panties. He brought the thick book up to his chest, never so much as blinking while I moved over him. I put my thighs on either of his right thigh before I sat down, pushing the seam of my pussy against him through my underwear. I gripped his shoulders, moving my mouth to the tender area where his shoulder met his neck. Placing a soft kiss there, I moved my right hand down his chest, skimming over his stomach, then applying a teasing pressure to his cock over his underwear.

“Come on, Dr. Reid. You told me you’d read to me.”

His first few words were sure. I was almost positive this was one of the many books he had memorized, meaning he wouldn’t need to rely on the book itself to keep reading. This was probably good, as at the first rock of my pussy against his thigh, he released a soft groan, interrupting his words.

Smirking, I moved my hips more purposefully against him. My hands came up to grip his hair, pulling harshly. His moan once again made his words falter. “What’s wrong Dr. Reid,” I whispered sweetly against his skin. “Can you not focus on your book?”

“It’s…It’s so hard, y/n.”

I licked the vein running up his neck before I sucked on the skin. “I can feel just how hard it is, Dr. Reid.” I moved my mouth up to his ear again. “Take my bra off.” I expected him to fumble with this task, but he put his right hand behind my back and removed my bra in seconds. You’ve been holding out on me, Doc. Leaning back, I moved my hands to my own breasts, thumbing my nipples as I listened to Spencer read his book, his words barely registering in my mind.

“You don’t need both hands to read, do you?” He shook his head, his worlds never faltering from the story. “Good. I know how hard it is for you to sit here with that plug inside you. I know you’re thinking about how it will feel when I fuck you.” There’s that whimper, I thought. “I’m thinking about it too, Spencer.” My hips began to grind against him faster. “Put the book down but keep reading to me. If you stop your words, I’ll stop moving. The sooner I cum, the sooner you can get back into my bed.”

He placed the book down; his words a whisper now as he recited the book. “Touch me, Spencer. Make me cum like a good boy so I can finally fuck you like the little slut you are.” His hands gripped my hips, guiding my movements against his thigh, his mouth against my neck while he continued mumbling words I could barely hear against my skin.

"I've thought about fucking you before, you know," I said, my pussy becoming wetter and wetter against him. "The first time was on the jet. You had some book open in your lap. You were stretched out on the couch." I groaned as Spencer moved my hips faster and faster. "I thought about the look on your face if I just came over to you and sat on your lap." I moved to kiss his neck again. "I wonder what they would have said then." Dropping my hand down to palm his hot, hard cock over his underwear. "What would they have said if they saw Dr. Spencer Reid's big, pretty boy cock sliding down my throat?"

He was groaning now in between words, but the words were yet to totally falter. “I guess that would be better than them seeing you get fucked, right?” One of his hands moved up to my breast to pinch my nipple. “What would they think if they knew that their boy wonder, their resident genius, wanted to get his ass fucked and treated like a dirty little thing?”

I was so, so close. “Come on, Agent Reid. Make me cum. Make me cum all over your thigh so I can make you cum so hard you see stars.”

His words faltered then; his mouth moved to my shoulder, kissing it softly before he said, “I’d let the entire world watch anything if it meant I got to fuck you.” With that, he bit down on my skin. That small amount of pain caused my orgasm to break like a wave against me. Spencer kept moving my hips back and forth to help me ride it out.

The world came back into focus slowly, my breathing still harsh against Spencer’s shoulder. Gripping his shoulders, I pulled back to kiss him softly. He tried to turn the kiss into something deeper, his need making him desperate. I pulled back, looking in his eyes. “When you go into the room we really begin,” I whispered. “Green, yellow, and red. I need you to know I’m so proud of you, darling boy, even if we just end here. You’ve done so well.”

He whimpered again, confirming once again that he had a praise kink. “I want more, Miss. Please?”

I moved off of his body to sit back on the couch, picking up the book he had set down. “Go into the bedroom, take off all of your clothes. Lay in the center of the bed, hands by your sides. Do not touch yourself. If you do, I will punish you.”

--

When I finally made my way into the room a minute later, I found Spencer right where I instructed him to be. His cock was still hard; he was breathing rapidly. I stood at the edge of the bed, slowly slipping my panties off before I knelt down to open the chest again.

I had given this first scene a lot of thought. One day, I wanted to restrain him with my handcuffs when I fucked him. I could just imagine how he'd blush whenever he saw them after that. But, for this I had decided to use arm restraints that attached to the bars on my headboard, wrapping around his wrist with a Velcro cuff; he could open them if he needed to. I moved up on his left side, fastening one restraint to the bed, then walking to the right side, doing the same. His eyes were on my face, so expectant and so trusting.

I crawled on to the bed then, sitting myself on his firm stomach, my wet heat touching his skin. I leaned over to grip one cuff before I said, "Give me your hand, Dr. Reid." He complied without complaint or hesitation, then he did it again with his left wrist. I scooted my body down his until I felt his pubic bone brush against my still sensitive pussy. His breath hitched. "What's wrong, Dr. Reid?" I asked as I moved further down, my ass now resting over his cock.

“I-I can feel you. You-you’re so close.” His hands started to pull against the restraints, itching to reach out and touch me, push me back even further so his cock would finally touch the paradise that was my wet cunt.

I tsked at him, pouting my lips. “I know, darling boy. It must be so hard.” I moved my hands to his chest, bracing myself on one hand while the other reached up to wrap around his throat. “It’s so hard to so fucking needy, isn’t it, baby?” I moved back another inch.

He was whining under me now, shifting his hips relentlessly. Leaning forward, I placed my lips centimeters away from his own, my grip on his throat tightening just a bit. “It wouldn’t take much, Dr. Reid.” I brushed my mouth against his, laughing when I heard the restraints jerking against the headboard bars. “You know I won’t let you fuck me…but all it would take is just a shift of my hips.” I rocked back a bit, bringing my pussy right there, before drawing back up. “What would you give me for that, Dr. Reid? What would you do to feel my hot, wet, tight, little pussy rub against your pretty boy cock?”

“Anything,” his voice was so much higher than normal when he spoke. “I’ll do anything, Miss. Please. Please.”

You’re so good at this, baby. “You sound very pretty when you beg, Dr. Reid.” I placed one more chaste kiss on his top lip before I went back to a sitting position. Bracing my hands on his hips, I lifted my pelvis over his groin to settle on the tops of his thighs. His strangled groan was music to my ears. “You have been such a good boy…” I pretended to ponder this. “Tell you what, if you promise to ride my cock, to swirl your hips while you fuck yourself on top of me, I’ll let you feel me.”

He was nodding desperately, still pulling against the arm restraints. “Yes. Please. Please, Miss. I’ll do whatever you want.”

I moved his cock to lay flat against his pubic bone, the head pointing upwards towards his face. “I want you to watch, Dr. Reid.” I could feel myself dripping when I moved forward. Slowly, slowly, slowly, I placed the lips of my cunt around the width of his cock.

“Fuck." Spencer's eyes were glued to where my pussy was finally touching his cock. "You're so…fuck, you feel so good, Miss.”

This was the first time I had felt a man against me like this in longer than I wanted to admit. I should be scared, but I just couldn't be. It felt so right to be against him right now. I started moving my hips forwards and backward, much like I did when I rode his thigh. I looked down, watching his cock disappear as I slide my pussy over him. This wasn’t even sex in the way most people considered it, but being here, sharing this moment with Spencer was one of the most erotic and intimate moments of my life.

With one finally slide of my hips, I lifted off of him, getting off the bed completely.

“No, no, no, Miss, please come back.”

I looked back at him over my shoulder. His cock was wet with my arousal, his neck was flushed a bright red, his messy curls were sticking to his forehead, and his wrists were still pulling against the restraints. He is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“My, my, Dr. Reid.” I moved back to the chest, reaching down to pull out my harness. “You might be the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen. Look at you,” I shot him a look of fake disapproval while I stepped into the harness, bringing it up to secure it around my hips. I had selected this strap-on for the specific reason that I could change the size of the dildo attached to it. So, for today I could use something smaller on my boy…until he was ready for something rougher, or bigger. Originally, I had planned on selecting the smallest dildo, but after seeing how easily he took the plug, I decided to move to the next size up.

Spencer watched with wide eyes while I pulled out my “cock”. I smirked at him. “Do you like it, Dr. Reid?” I slid the dildo into place, clip it into place. I moved closer to him, crawling up the bed, sitting on his right side. I brushed my fingers over his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat. Moving so quickly he didn’t have a chance to brace, I struck quickly, whipping my left hand up to backhand across the cheek. Rising up on my knees, I moved closer to him, gripping a handful of his hair with one hand, my other bracing myself on the headboard. “I am getting really fucking tired of not having my questions answered, Dr. Reid.”

He was positively squirming now, his pupils were huge, his mouth hanging open. “I’m sorry Miss, I’m so sorry. I can’t- I can’t think when you’re around me.” I had to fight very hard to stop my lips from spreading into a smile, but I think he saw my lips twitch anyway.

“Brat,” I muttered, yanking on his hair again, causing him to let out another whimper. “I think you need to apologize, Dr. Reid. You want to be my good boy, don’t you?” I tilted my head to the side, regarding him curiously. “Because, if you’re my good boy, I’ll let you cum. But…if you’re not,” I leaned down to whisper to him. “Well, bad boys get their pretty little asses fucked, but they don’t get to cum.”

“I’m sorry Miss,” he whined out. “I’m so sorry. Please let me apologize.”

“Open your mouth.” He did so without question, his arms pulling on the restraints harder when I spit into his mouth. “Swallow it.” Such a good boy. “Now, I want you to suck my cock, Dr. Reid. Can you do that? Suck my cock and get it nice and wet before I fuck you with it.”

His eyes were on my face; I could see just the smallest flicker of nervousness in those pretty golden-brown eyes. I’d never hurt you, baby. You know that. Almost as if he heard my thoughts, he opened his mouth for me. Releasing his hair, I brought my hand to the dildo, guiding it into his mouth. “That’s it, you’re doing so good, Dr. Reid.” I gave a few very shallow thrusts of my hips, watching his eyes flutter while his cheeks hollowed out. “I knew the first time you sucked my fingers that day on your couch that you’d be so good at sucking cock.” I moved my hand from the dildo to place it lightly against his throat. “You’re nothing but a cock slut though, right, Dr. Reid?” He moaned around me; I squeezed his throat in response.

Pulling out of his mouth, I smiled down at him while I moved further away. I placed a soft kiss on his cheek before I moved down the bed. “You know why I left your legs free, don’t you Dr. Reid?”

“I’m not sure Miss.” His response was breathy and immediate. You’re learning, my nervous boy.

“Oh, the great Dr. Reid isn’t sure? That must be first. I guess it’s probably hard for your big brain to work when all the blood is going to your cock.” I grabbed the lube from the side of the bed to place it beside his thigh. I pushed his legs up roughly, so his knees were bent again. “I left your legs free, Dr. Reid, so it’s easier to make you take my cock.”

I brought my right hand up to his cock, my grip not firm enough to be satisfying, but I wanted him to focus on that sensation, especially now. In reality, it probably didn’t matter, my boy looked too far gone to be embarrassed anymore. With my left, I grabbed the base of the butt plug, slowly pulling it out.

His breath caught in his throat, his top teeth digging into his bottom lip so hard it whitened. “What’s wrong, baby?” My tone was condescending as I worked the plug out a bit, before I pushed it back in a bit, fucking it out of him gently, much like how I fucked it into him. “What do you need, Dr. Reid?”

He knew what I wanted, I had told him multiple times, but will my boy be brave enough to give it to me. I pulled the plug out completely, tossing it to the side before I grabbed the lube. I squirted some into my right hand before I started to slick up the dildo, my eyes never leaving his.

“I-I want you to fuck me, Miss.”

“Hmm,” I acknowledged, my hands still moving up and down my ‘cock.’ “I’m not sure what you mean, darling boy. You’ll have to be a bit more specific.”

Spencer’s head thrashed, his thighs clenched, his stomach muscles tensed. “I need you to fuck my ass, Miss…Please. Please fuck my ass, Miss.”

My hand stilled. Goddamnit. Hearing those words out of him made my pussy clench, my own wetness starting to drip down my thighs. "All you have to do is ask, Dr. Reid.”

I moved into position between his thighs, bringing both of my hands up to grip his slim hips. Scooting forward, I lifted him up a bit until my knees were barely under him, just enough to tilt his pelvis up so I could see him. I ran one of my hands up his inner thigh. “You’re even pretty here, Dr. Reid.” I lifted my hips slightly, pressing the dildo against his asshole. “Hold still, baby. I know you’re so needy and that makes it so hard, but you can hold still for me, can’t you?”

He nodded rapidly, his hands fisted into balls, his wrists tugging against the restraints, his teeth still sunk into his lower lip. Usually, I would demand his words, but I understood how overwhelming this was for him. Free pass, my nervous boy. I slowly started to push inside of him. My gaze kept flicking between my ‘cock’ entering him and his face, watching for any reaction, any sign of hesitancy.  

“Please,” he whimpered.

I started making slow strokes, fucking the dildo into him in shallow, small thrusts. When I had about 4 inches inside of him, I put some more lube on my hand. I stroked some of it on the remaining 3 inches of the dildo, making sure I could bottom out inside him. The remaining lube I left on my hand…the same hand I brought up to grab his cock with.

“FUCK.” Spencer’s shoulders were raising off of the bed, his eyes locked on my movements.

“Does it feel good, Dr. Reid?”

"Green, green, green, fucking green," he muttered. Under normal circumstances, I would have laughed, but right now I just pitched my hips forward, burying the dildo inside of him. He let out a strangled moan that sounded like my name when my thighs hit his body.

"Look at that," I said softly. "Look at what a good little slut you are, Dr. Reid?" I started to thrust slowly, looking at his reactions to see which strokes seemed to have the biggest effect on him. Being a profiler comes in handy at the strangest times. “You’re such a pretty cock slut, baby.” The tempo of my thrusts sped up while I looked down to watch the dildo move in and out of his tight entrance.

“Miss, fuck,” he whimpered. “Miss, please fuck me harder.”

I moved my hips faster, watching as his mouth opened in a silent scream. I gripped his cock firmer in my hand. Building up a rhythm between jerking him off and fucking him. “Is this what you want, Dr. Reid? You want to be used like this? Like a filthy slut?”

“Yes, yes, Miss, please.” His eyes were fixed on my hand on his cock, on my hips moving quickly. “Miss, Miss, you’re so- Miss, I’m going to cum.”

“Oh, you are, are you?” I teased, slowing my hand slightly. My thighs still slapping against him as I fucked him.

“Please Miss,” he begged. “Please let me cum. Please, I’ll do anything. Please, please, I’m so fucking close.”

I gripped his cock harder, my pace never slowing. “Come on, Dr. Reid. Cum for me like the dirty thing you are.”

At my words, he let out the loudest moan I’d heard him make yet. His back was arching off the bed, as rope after rope of cum erupted from his cock. I slowed my pace, only giving a few shallow thrusts to work him through his orgasm.

Right as his orgasm started to end, I slowly withdrew the portion of the dildo that was still inside him.

I leaned over him to quickly undo the cuffs, freeing him. Moving off the bed, I unstrapped myself, letting the harness fall to the floor before I dashed into the bathroom connected to my room. Wetting the washcloth, I had already laid out, I grabbed my other supplies and hurried back into the room. Spencer was where I left him, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, unseeing.

I moved to sit between his legs. First, I wiped the cum and lube off his cock, murmuring my praises the entire time before I cleaned up the remaining lube from between his cheeks. Tossing the rag into the floor, I moved to kneel beside him on the bed. "Spencer," I whispered. "Spencer, you did so well. You were so wonderful."

His gaze fixed on mine, his eyes starting to fill with tears, his face a mask of confusion. “Y/n,” he said, his voice raspy. “Why-why-“

I pushed his hair off his forehead, bringing his arms in towards his body to check his wrists. “It’s okay, Spencer. It is fine. Your adrenaline and endorphins are hitting your body right now. This is what I was talking about that might happen. It’s called sub drop.” I cupped his jaw, my thumb brushing over his lips. “I’m right here, Spencer. I’m right here. And I’m so proud of you.”

I wanted to wait until he asked me to touch him, to be sure that was what he needed, but I just acted on instinct. I laid down beside of him and wrapped my arms around him. He turned his body to face mine, his knees curled up to hit my thighs. I stroked my hands over his back, murmuring softly to him the whole time.

After a few minutes had passed, and his breathing had evened out, I spoke again. “Spence? Do you think you can take a shower? The heat will make you feel better.”

He sniffled, his eyes never rising to meet mine. “I…I don’t know if I can leave you.”

In that moment, the tiny part of my heart that didn’t already belong to Spencer Reid, this marvelous, wonderful man, was cemented into his grasp. “Spencer, I need you to look at me, can you do that?”

His soft eyes finally rose to meet mine. They were wide and anxious and swimming with a much bigger and more frightening emotion. “Spencer, I’m not going to leave you. I’m going to take a shower with you. Then after we get cleaned up, we’re going to order some food and watch whatever you want to while we sit on my couch.” My words were hurried and dripping with honesty.

My darling boy’s face lite up with hope so bright it threatened to consume me. “You’ll stay with me?”

“You don’t even have to ask, Spence.” I pressed a kiss to his forehead.

--

The remainder of our Saturday went like I had planned. In our shower, I held his body under the warm water, I washed his hair, and I listened while he told me whatever fact came to his mind in that moment. After we were done, I got his messenger bag and brought him his clothes.  

Together, we cuddled on my couch. Him in his old Caltech t-shirt and sweatpants and me in loose t-shirt and leggings. We found some sci-fi show that he said was good that I had never seen to watch while we ate our takeout. I listened to everything he told me about the show, holding his body close to mine.

I felt the tension rise up inside of him the later it got. Which is why I turned to him with an over-exaggerated yawn and asked him the question he was too afraid to ask me.

“Hey, Doc?” I said softly. “It’s getting pretty late…and after…after everything we did today, I don’t really want to be alone. Would you mind staying with me?”

The relief I felt radiate off of him in that moment was so powerful I don’t know if I’ll ever forget the feeling. “Of course, y/n. I’d really like that.”

After I stripped and remade my bed and cleaned up any stray items that I may have missed earlier, I lead Spencer into my bedroom. I fell asleep that night with my arms wrapped around him, his back to my chest. I held my hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow as he fell asleep in my arms. It took a long time for sleep to finally find me, but I didn’t mind. I was content to just feel the heart beating inside the chest of the best person I had ever known.

--

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