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en-hale-archives · 3 years

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Me with You ~~

pairing ⑅ bestfriend!Jake x fem!reader

genre ⑅ friends to lovers, fluff, slow dancing, suggestive/smut

words/read time ⑅ 3.9k/12-19 mins

warnings ⑅ 18+ content, light cussing

synopsis ⑅ Jake is back in his hometown to spend time with his closest friend. During some fun and frivolous dancing, things start to heat up...

author's note ⑅ I’m really proud of how this story turned out. I'm not a huge fan of second person, so I wrote in first, but if anyone asks, I can copy and post again in second person. It's more fluff than anything, but it does get a bit steamier towards the end, so I’m just going to go ahead and put a warning.

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When the back door finally slammed shut and the cacophony of barks faded down the street, I could finally let out my sigh of relief that I had been holding in since this morning. I tapped on my phone. How many days had we been watching Mrs. Chen’s pets? And just how was I able to put up with hours of barking, the smell of fresh turd lying across the lawn, and dog walks till dark? Including their rigorous feeding times and bathroom breaks -- I’m surprised I haven’t exploded yet.

I had so much planned the minute they left my house, but instead, the sudden silence felt all too relaxing and I laid my head against the cold countertop. I could finally stop stressing, stop thinking, and stop worrying about reprimanding for chewing on my shoes or peeing in the house or the continued barking that never ended. I was free. I felt like I could’ve stayed laid on the countertop forever, drowning in the evening sun. Who knew watching five dogs would take such a burden out of a person. Jake and I had taken on the job of dog sitting for Mrs. Chen while she visited some family in Tokyo. We both switched off every other day; some of the dogs at my house and the others at his; until we realized it would be easier if he just spent the few days at my house as we co-doggy sat. He got up bright and early to take them on their walks while I prepared their highly detailed and specific meals. Then from there, we spent the rest of the day making sure they didn’t run off somewhere or cause too much destruction in the house. But alas, Mrs. Chen came back early from her getaway and picked up Toby, Caleb, Khao, Sofia, and Pickle on her way home. Although I was exhausted from watching 3-foot dogs all day, the pay was amazing for me, and it would help tremendously for all the online classes I was going to be taking next semester.

The warmth of the sun cast a comforting trance over my heavy eyelids, and soon enough I was fast asleep, standing in the middle of the kitchen with the soft sound of nothing surrounding me.

By the time I had fluttered my eyes open, I had realized I was now seated in my dining chair and a large black jacket was placed over my shoulders. I sat up and let out a yawn, wincing at the bright light coming from the tv and shaking my now numb arm awake. I must have been sleeping for a while because the evening sun had turned to pitch of black. The moonlight beamed through the window and danced along with the sways of the large oak tree out front. I stood up and walked over to the refrigerator in which I grabbed two water bottles and some leftover pasta.

I was sure that Jake hadn’t eaten since lunch, seeing as he only ate if someone sat food in front of his face. I dragged my feet up the stairs until I heard the slamming of a book and the fast typing of a keyboard come from the living room. I turned and looked behind me. Jake had settled his things on the coffee table and floor, large books, folders, and several amounts of crumpled up pieces of paper found their way around Jake, himself slouched up against the edge of the couch. He had changed clothes since the last time I had seen him, he now wore a plain blue shirt with grey sweats, his eyebrows furrowed as he worked hard on whatever he was getting at.

“Oh yes, I was starving!” Propping himself up on the couch, he took the plate of pasta. I placed the waters on the coffee table and settled comfortably on the couch beside him.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever seen anybody sleep standing up before. Look,” Jake took his phone off the charger. “I got a picture.” He pushed the screen in my face, and of course, there was my unconscious body laying on the counter, mouth open and all. I playfully pushed it back his way as his face lit up with a smile I was all too familiar with.

“What are you doing down here so late, it’s almost 12 in the morning,” I asked. Jake’s smile disappeared when he was reminded of the work he had been doing seconds before.

He let out a large huff of air. “Trying to get some words on paper but instead it turned into a paper massacre,” he jokingly replied, “sorry for the mess.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I replied, taking a swig of water. I was going to ask if he wanted to watch a late-night movie, or pull an all-nighter and talk endlessly until the sun rose, but I could tell by each passing second that Jake was worried about this, and he wanted the time he had now over the summer to work on his music. I wished I was motivated to work on my own music, but unlike Jake, I wasn’t in a globally popular boy band. My complicated best friend for over 10 years had been working his butt off since middle school. It was his annual time to sit back and relax while he had the time to, but instead, he chose to use that time to help watch a bunch of dogs with his hometown bestie. God, I loved him.

Jake pulled himself off the couch and right back onto the floor, leaving the rest of the pasta to me. He picked up his pen again and started scribbling down words as quickly as he could, trying hard not to forget the lyrics that had floated into his head. Until he stopped, closing his eyes for just a split second, and let out a powerful sigh. Crumpling up the sheet, he stacks it on top of the others in frustration and started frantically tapping his pencil against the table.

“Maybe it’s best to just try again in the morning,” I advised, taking a small bite of the pasta that was left by my side.

“How come I’m having such a hard time with this?” He gazed up at me frantically for a clue, as if I had the answer to fix a problem as big and as important as his was. I looked at his doleful eyes and the bags that were starting to grow underneath them. I couldn’t help but think, because I made you sit up and watch a bunch of dogs with me.

“Do you want me to see if I could come up with something?”

“If you want. But, hold on, I think my thoughts are coming back up.” He quickly grabbed another piece of paper, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

I tried my best to keep occupied by watching videos on my phone, but I found myself suddenly bored out of my mind. I laid out on my back and picked up one of Jake’s folders. Briefly looking through it, I couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous at the amount of fan art and letters, praising him and the other members. Followed with that were just more and more engene stuff, full of nothing but kind words and heartfelt messages. Part of me wished that I was able to travel with Jake and see the world like he was. How fun would it be to meet people that praised you? And how cool would it be to see that you had fans? I couldn’t help but plaster on a huge smile as I skimmed through some of the notes until I finally came to one with familiar handwriting.

Remember Me were the words written on the top of the paper in bold and bright colors. But the message written underneath is what caught my attention:

To the person that makes me the luckiest guy in the world, this song is for you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but please just remember me -- it was Jake’s handwriting.

I didn’t feel like I was breaking any crime reading his stuff until this moment, but curiosity killed the cat, and right now I didn’t mind being a feline. I checked to make sure Jake was still busy, and he was, almost like he had teleported into his own world. I quietly turned back to the sheet and started reading. It was about a girl, presumably his crush I’m sure. She was someone important to him, someone who made him love so much that it hurt. But this was far from a happy song, in fact, it was terribly heartbreaking. She didn’t understand his love, she wasn’t able to interpret it like he wanted her to. But he confesses that he was scared of what telling her would do, worried that she wouldn’t feel the same. So instead, it was like he was apologizing, and asking that she forgive him for not being brave enough to tell her, and if he did ever get the courage to, for her to remember him even if she wasn’t able to love him like he wanted her to.

The song ends like how the title began, and I find myself flabbergasted at the beautiful mixes of rhymes and metaphors that read like a poem. This was the first of Jake’s songs that made me feel this way, like I had just finished watching a tragedy movie with Ryan Renolds starring. I blink back the tears that I didn’t realize were forming. How come he never told me this? We never kept secrets from each other, like ever. It never mattered the subject or the severity, we had always promised that we would be open and honest with each other. I wish I would’ve known this sooner, maybe I could’ve saved him from feeling this way. And what girl could it possibly be? I knew for sure I was the only girl he was presumably close to; but was there someone else?

I glanced down at Jake, who was still in a focused state of mind with the pencil in his mouth and mumbling lyrics softly under his breath. I tried picturing my bubbly Jake writing these agonizing words and miserably failed.

Jake looked up at me as if he could feel my gaze on the back of his head. “I think I’ve found the chorus, but it’s the rest of the song I’m not able to get, and how come it’s so hard to find another word that rhymes with severe? Beer? Sphere? Revere? Appear? Gosh, rhyming sucks some serious ass!”

“This song is beautiful.”

Jake furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Huh?”

“This song I found in your folder.” I glanced back at it in my hand. “Remember Me.”

Jake’s gaze leaped from my eyes to the sheet, and I felt his body tense. “Where’d you get that from?”

“I was just going through one of your folders. Did you accidentally get it mixed up in your fan folder? Cause this is -”

“Did you read it?” He interrupted.

“Yeah, and it’s perfect.”

Jake glanced at me for a split second before turning back around, obviously uncomfortable. “I was watching one of those Kdramas you love so much and it inspired me. Could you help me rhyme with severe now?”

I knew Jake like the back of my hand, so I knew continuing on with this conversation would get him upset if he’s clearly avoiding it. But, I wasn’t going to just let him off that quickly. “Jake, come on, you can tell me anything. Who is this about?”

Jake looked back at me with a hint of something in his eyes, something I’ve never seen before, and something I wasn't able to decipher. “Nobody, I was just feeling really inspired, that's it.” His tone had switched from calm to agitated.

I give him my I’m-not-stupid look and he comes back with his own you’re-being-delusional stare. “It’s seriously nobody, truthfully and honestly.”

“Okay, okay I’ll back off.” I could tell he was starting to get defensive, and when he got like that, it took him at least a few hours before returning to normal. I watched Jake's Adam's apple move up and down, a way in which I could tell he knew I was not convinced in the slightest. “Well, sometimes we go through things that can remind us of situations like that, but not necessarily in that same exact context, you know? It has to be amplified for that audience appeal.”

“Okay...but have you ever felt this way before? Not exactly like how it’s written, but maybe somewhere along these lines?”

I thought I was going to get another vague answer, or worse, an aggravated one. But instead Jake looked down at his pencil as he tapped it along his wrist. “...maybe, but I think everyone can connect to the words in some way. I mean, everyone feels some kind of heartbreak in their life, right?” Jake's answer was still pretty vague, but at least I was able to get something out of him.

“Okay, but you know you can tell me anything, like, anything ever because you know that you’ll never actually have to feel this way, right?” I said, maybe too much in a hurry.

“Of course I know that.” He replied, giving one of his awkward grins.

“And if anyone has made you feel this way, then you know you can tell me that too cause there a sucker to lose out on a perfect person like you.” I teased in a sing-song way, poking his shoulder hard. Jake chuckled and poked me back.

A weird silence grew in the room, and Jake went back to trying to find rhyming words. I tried getting back on my phone, but I knew I needed to say something to let go of the tenseness in the air.

“Hey, crystal clear rhymes!”

He leaned his head back and looked up at me. “Nevermind, I give up for tonight.”

I could see the stress that played on his face. “Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, but by the time I do, it’ll be too late.”

“What do you mean?”

Jake pulled his knees up to his chest and spoke. “This was going to go on our album comeback that needs to be finished in the next four months. By the time I think of something, it'll be too late and I’ll have to wait until the next four months. But by then, I'll have forgotten. This always happens and I have no idea how the hell to fix it.” I couldn’t tell if he wanted my help or just a bit of comfort.

“Did you try asking the other guys to see if they had any ideas?”

“Yeah, but they’re working on their own parts, I can’t ask them to do this too.”

“I’m sure they’d be willing to help if you asked,” I assured him.

“I know they would, but I just don’t want to. I always ask them for help, I thought being away from the studio and being back home would help my brainstorming abilities.” He gave a weary chuckle that almost sounded like a groan.

“Well, maybe tomorrow will come with better results.” I did my best to give him some motivation, but I could tell I was failing miserably at that too.

Jake watched as a car zoomed past the window, a low bass sounding off as it zoomed away. “I bet it’s easier to just listen to music than to try and come up with it. I remember when I would just blare NCT all day long and jam out in my room. It seemed so much easier back then to come up with stuff than it does now. I miss it.” He took a slight pause before continuing. “ Did you know that song you read was the easiest thing I have written in my life? I remember writing too. I just had this super weird feeling in my chest one day so I basically locked myself in my room and took maybe two hours and just wrote a bunch of words down and connected them to sound like a song. For once my mind had just gone blank and I couldn’t stop thinking and feeling that song, like I knew what it was supposed to sound like, I knew what the lyrics were supposed to mean. I just knew everything. And I miss that feeling, that feeling of like- '' He broke off his sentence when he looked back up to my eyes. It seemed like he was talking more to himself than to me. He swallowed hard and looked back at the pencil still in hand.

“Well, I'm sorry you don’t feel free anymore. I wish there was something I could do to make you feel like that again-”

“No, please don’t feel like that. It’s just something that had just recently started happening, something I really just can’t fix…” His voice gets softer and softer the more he spoke.

“Have you spoken to your manager about it?” I asked. “He’s super nice from what I understand. And he’ll probably have better answers than your friend who can barely play the piano, let alone produce an entire song.”

Jake laughed before I had the chance to. “ See, now you're underestimating yourself. Remember that song from freshman year? The one about-- what was his name, Josh?” Jake teased. I grabbed a pillow and slammed it into the back of his head. “Oh my gosh, I thought we promised we’d never bring it up again!”

Jake chuckled and laid his arm on the couch completely turning towards me. “How about we sneak out and go get ice cream and try to not wake up your mom in the process?”

I suddenly jumped to my feet when I have the perfect idea on how to cheer up the gloomy Mr. Shim. “Or, we could do something even better!”

“Urgh!” Jake groaned.

I grabbed my phone and hooked it up to the speaker. I was going to turn on his hit song Drunk-Dazed as a joke, but Jake needed this break from his career, so instead, I crunk up Beyonce as loud as it could go without disturbing my mom who slept upstairs. I turn back to Jake and reach out for his hands, already moving my hips to the music.

He shook his head and threw it back onto the couch as if throwing a temper tantrum. “I literally dance for a living.”

“Okay but this will be different, I promise.” I grabbed the piles of papers on the ground and threw them in the trash, I then pushed the coffee table near the wall and piled his folders and books neatly on top.

“Come on, cowboy!” I grabbed his hands and helped him up. He was reluctant to get up, but he threw one last groan before standing on his feet.

“This will get the brain juices flowing again!” I told him. I go back to my phone and switch it to one of my favorite Beyonce songs that she covered, At Last.

I sang dramatically to get Jake to smile, and luckily, it worked. I placed both my hands over his shoulders and swayed us back and forth, still miming the song as overly exaggerated as I could. Jake still couldn’t help but smile, and it didn’t take him long to join me in the rhythm and sway naturally with me. I learned at our middle school dance that Jake had perfect rhythm. He was able to impress the rest of the crowd when he busted out moves from BTS. Everyone was impressed, including me.

Now we were on a steady roll. I accidentally stepped on his feet a few times, but it was fine seeing as I was wearing foam flip-flops and he was barefooted. After a while, the song switched and played another of my favorites that didn’t match our style of dance, but we still moved slowly to the beat. Jake tried twirling me, but since I have two left feet, I almost ended up hitting the wall each time and Jake laughed loud at my clumsiness. The moonlight from the kitchen had now switched to the window in the living room. It gleamed through and glistened on Jake like a spotlight, just like the ones on the stage did for him. In a split second, I was reminded that he wouldn’t be here forever, just like he wasn’t here for the past year. I tried to not let it settle on my face that I was scared to see him go again, so I played up on the fun we were having now. Jake looked like he was at ease; finally, since he’d been here, he looked genuinely happy and I wasn’t going to ruin that.

After another handful of songs full of laughs and giggles, we were soon sweating and taking deeper breaths than normal. Each song was different from the one before, but it didn’t stop us from sticking to our style of dance. Even with the simplicity of the moves and the slowness of the steps, I had to take a minute to relax. I hooked my arms around his neck and rested my entire body on his. I could feel Jake’s own sweat seeping through his shirt, But I didn’t mind the wetness that was now attached to my cheek. I thought he would act awkward and ask for me to pull away, but instead, he gripped tighter on my hips and started slowly moving me side to side. I let out a long overdue sigh, trying my best to match the steady breathing of Jake’s with my own. It was actually therapeutic: hearing his heartbeat in one ear and the softness of the music in the other.

I tried to continue our steady breathing together, but his had picked up a bit, almost out of nowhere. I felt the heat of his breath on the nape of my neck, and it made my entire body tingle in a way it never had before. After this sudden feeling, I realized just how close we really were. His leg hair tickled my legs, I could feel the bone of his foot connecting to mine, I could feel his thin waist against mine as well. I felt like I needed to back up, but instead, I couldn’t and continued to sway softly against him. A few seconds later, Jake’s hands rose a little higher, planting themselves on my waist and tightening their grip as if they were trying to pull me closer than we already were.

The sensation hadn’t stopped though, it clung to my body like my damp shorts did on my thighs. Sooner or later I felt pressure on the lower part of my stomach and thought for sure that Jake was messing around and wasn’t feeling what I was, which indicated that I needed to pull back before this feeling became too much.

This is so embarrassing. I thought. How could I let myself feel like this? How was this in any way okay? I finally pulled back, the sensation becoming too unbearable, and glanced up at his face. His pupils were large in a way I hadn’t seen before. His mouth was slightly open and a drop of sweat slowly traced down his forehead, onto his nose. That pressure I was feeling on my stomach had now doubled in force, and Jake's face had switched from calm and subtle, to alarmed and panicked...

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(part 2 possibly...?)

Thank you guys so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave any constructive criticism you have on helping improve my writing!

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None of the images are mine, They all belong to their rightful owners :)

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enthusiasticharry · 4 years

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Lonely this Christmas

summary: you and Harry broke up earlier in the year, but at Columbia’s Christmas party you see each other again, and you both realise just how much you miss each other

author's note: ahhhh i don’t think i've ever been so excited to post one of my works as i am this one and i hope you all enjoy my baby. the reader in this is musician!yn and i have so many other ideas for the little story line, so if you'd like to hear them, please let me know!

word count: 11k of baso angst, really fluffy fluff and some of the best smut I think i’ve ever written. there’s deepthroating... face-sitting... really just the whole shebang.

masterlist | please speak to me about LTC here!

You truly believed that Christmas was the best time of the year.

You loved everything about the festive time of year. From decorating the house, to listening to the music. From spending time with your family, to cosying up on the sofa and watching Christmas films. It was a special time of year, where everyone seemed to relax and walk around with joyous looks on their faces because no matter the year they’d have, it was nearly over and it’s finally time to celebrate the best aspects of the time that had passed.

You found yourself thankful for the year, but also thankful that it was over. This year had been one of the best, but also one of the worst years of your life. The thing that caused the year to not be the best that it could was the split you had with your long-term boyfriend. It was messy, and absolutely heartbreaking on your side and because it was such a big part of the year, it became one of the memories that you wished to ignore but you found yourself struggling too. On a brighter side, you had won your first Brit award this year for Best New Artist. It was a turning point in your career, for certain.

One thing that you’ve never enjoyed about Christmas is parties. You would much rather stay within the walls of your own house and spend your evenings alone, but being in the industry that you are it becomes a little harder. The Columbia Christmas Party happen’s every year, but this was you first year signed to the Record Label, so the first year you had been invited. You were shocked to be invited, but found yourself to be excited and dreading the experience all at once.

The thing that you found yourself thinking and worrying about the most was what you were going to wear. You wanted to impress everyone there, since you had found this new stardom for yourself and you had created this name for yourself which you hadn’t had before. After consulting with your stylist, you settled on a custom Gucci dress that was made for you to wear specifically to this event. The dress itself was a Christmas-green velvet material, which landed to about your mid-thigh with a square neckline. Attached to the square straps of the neckline, were tulle sleeves of the same colour that bunched at your wrists. It hugged your curves perfectly and once you’d added your black scrappy heels you really felt beautiful. Your natural features are accentuated, and you, for the first time in a long time, feel beautiful within your own skin.

That all changed the second you walked into the party.

You felt as though all eyes were on you, as though everyone was watching every step that you took to see what you’d do. It made you feel uncomfortable and immediately feel as though the dress you are wearing wasn’t right, it was too short and you needed to cover up. You were maybe 98% certain that they weren’t thinking about what you were wearing, but more so who you’ve just clocked eyes with.

You knew he was going to be here, and you had prepared yourself for the inevitable, but seeing him stood there completely changed everything that you had prepared for. You both were signed to the same record label, years after the two of you had met though, so it was no surprise that he was sat at one of the tables with a group of people around him as he spoke and laughed at what they were all taking about.

You tried to ignore the pinch within your heart, but it was hard. You weren’t the one who broke it off, and if things had gone according to your plan, you would still be together right now.

You had met Harry a few years ago, when you had first moved to London and you were bar and pub hopping, singing and hoping that you’d somehow stumble upon someone who could help you start your career. It was completely by accident that you both had met, and looking back at it quite embarrassing on your part. You were in the middle of your set when he walked in, as well as Mitch and Sarah, but you hadn’t seen them at that point. You had recently learnt how to play Sign of the Times on the piano and you had purposely brought your small keyboard out with you so you could play the song. Looking back on it, you probably wouldn’t have sung the song if you did know that he was there, but you didn’t know so you sung it. It was a little shaky at the start due to your nerves about playing the song for the first time out of the comfort of your room but you quickly found your groove, and you finished strong. Harry had later told you that, after a little bit of teasing from Mitch and Sarah, he knew that from how in awe he was of you he just had to speak to you. He walked up to you whilst you were in the middle of throwing your celebratory shot back that you always take after finishing your set and the first thing you ever said to him was, “Fuck!”

You always thought that would be a story you’d be able to tell your grandchildren, and you both had even spoken about it, but it just hadn’t worked out.

He seemed okay, which you were happy about. His new album had just come out, and you don’t think you’ve ever cried at a record as you did at that one. You knew it was about you, it was hard not to. All of the little hints that he left throughout his songs would blow over anyone else head, but you knew the true meaning of them and you think that’s one of the reasons you found it so emotional. He was smiling as he spoke to the people, briefly taking sips of his drink every now and then, which was only water so you wondered whether he’d drove there. You both would be flying home soon, but this would be the first time in three years that you’d be flying home alone.

To stop yourself from crying, you quickly make you way over to the bar. After running your eyes over the cocktail menu, your eyes immediately pricked at the sight of one, and you could stop the words as they left your lips: “A cherry bomb fizz please.”

You watched as the bartender added a cherry and some maraschino liqueur, before topping the drink off with Champagne. The drink was quite sour, but you quite liked it. It caused your lips to purse and eyebrows to widen, in a good way you must add.

“Could never handle your alcohol, could you?”

You could feel him before you heard him, but you didn’t want to turn around. Why he felt it okay to come up and talk to you were unsure about, but at the same time you had been hoping that he would. Why you were hoping that he would you were also unsure about, but you’re certain it had something to do with the fact that you weren’t quite over him.

“I think you’re mistaken.” You say, taking another sip of your drink, “You were the one who could never handle your alcohol. And this is just sour.”

He hums, as though he isn’t believing a word that you say, “If you say so, love.”

“Love?” You say, raising your eyebrow at him whilst throwing back the rest of your drink, “Thought those days were well over.”

“Force of habit, ‘suppose.” He shrugs, “I have a few of them when it comes to you.”

“You grew out of them.” I shrug, “Can’t remember the last time you called me love whilst we were together.”

He drops his eyes to the counter, and you know you’ve done what you’re supposed to. This is the first time you’ve spoken to since you broke up, and you can’t believe that it’s at a Christmas party of all places. He also had the audacity to call you love, something that you couldn’t believe he had the balls to do. The last few months of your relationship you were lucky if he even looked at you, and here he now was calling you love as though it’s totally okay to do so.

“I’ll always call you love.” He says, lifting his eyes up from the counter to look at you once more, “I’ll always care about you.”

“Where was this five months ago?” You ask, unable to stop yourself.

Your break up, in your opinion, came out of nowhere. You knew something had changed in your relationship, since he hardy had the time for you at the end of your time together. He’d get up in the morning and wouldn’t touch, or even kiss you. Then, when he’d come home it would be the exact same thing, he’d slip into bed and to stop yourself from feeling as though you were going to cry, you’d pretend you were asleep and hope that you’d actually fall asleep. He never told you a reason for breaking up with you, apart from that he needed space and that he couldn’t be with you. That was probably the thing that hurt you the most. He broke up with you, but you never really had a real reason why.

“I just needed to leave.” He says, “That was my main focus.”

You try to ignore your heart breaking all over again but it’s hard to, when it’s the only thing you can think about.

“Why now?” You say, “Why are you doing this now?”

“YN—”

You shake your head, “I don’t think I want to hear it. I’m going to go.”

“Don’t—”

“—YN!” You feel an arm thrown around your shoulder, one that you immediately realise is Jeff once you register his voice and his face once you turn to him, “I haven’t seen you in months! How are you?”

You can immediately tell that he’s drunk. From the slight slurring of his words, to the smell of alcohol on his breath as he speaks. You’re just as shocked to see him as he is to see you.

“I’m good, Jeff, thanks.” You smile, at him, trying to push the conversation you’ve just had with his friend out of your mind, “How are you?”

“I’m drunk.” He laughs, squeezing your shoulder slightly, “But! I’s nice to see you two together again!”

The whole ignoring the situation doesn’t quite go to plan. Once he’s said those words you immediately draw your eyes towards Harry. You’ve never wanted to leave a conversation as much as you did this one. You look at Harry, but he isn’t looking at you.

He gasps, “You should come over to the table! We’re all here and it’ll just be like old times.”

“I couldn’t possibly. . .” You shake your head.

“You can!” He says, “Come on, I won’t take no for an answer! And H, hurry up with those drinks.”

Jeff walks you away from the bar and towards the table that you noticed earlier when you noticed Harry for the first time this evening. Glenne, Mitch and Sarah are there, as well as Kid and a few other producers that you recognise from working on Harry’s album, as well as a few songs from yours also. You knew that just because you and Harry broke up you couldn’t expect the friendships that had formed because of you two to just stop altogether.

“YN!” There’s a course of cheers and Sarah’s the first to stand up and wrap her arms around you. Out of everyone, Sarah was the person who you were closest with out of Harry’s band. She had joined Harry’s band after you and Harry had been dating for a year or so when Sarah joined the band, and you two instantly clicked and became the closest of friends. You had spoken a few times with her since you had broke up, but nothing compared to what you used to. You weren’t surprised though, she was Harry’s drummer first and your friend after — or that’s what you told yourself to make you feel slightly better.

“Hi.” You smile, dropping down into the spare seat next to Sarah. Words are thrown around the table of glee that you’re there, as well as questions as to why you haven’t been in contact. You know they’re drunk, and you suspect that is why they’re saying all of the things they are. You were quick to fall out of the conversation as it moved onto the show that they did the day prior to celebrate the release of Harry’s album. You suppose the reason your feelings were so heightened today was due to your hearing the album for the first time yesterday and then replaying it today.

It was completely different to Harry Styles but still so Harry. You hated how his music made your feel, the sad and the happy ones, as well as all in between. Harry returned to the table shorty after clutching drinks in his hands, and under his arms. Why he didn’t just make two trips, you would never know, but it’s lucky that all the drinks made it without any spillages.

“We were just talking about yesterday.” Glenne says, taking a sip of her drink as she does before turning towards you, “Have you heard the album, YN?”

“You don’t have too—” Harry turns to your briefly.

“I have.” You nod, “It’s good, a masterpiece even. You should be proud of it, H.”

You can see his shoulder tense, and from knowing him as well as you do, you wouldn’t be surprised if his heart just sunk to the bottom of his stomach. If you’ve listened to the album, it means that you’ve heard the song that Harry hoped you hadn’t.

“What would you say is your favourite?”

You look directly at him as you say the next words, and you hope he listens to them, “Probably Cherry.”

The other’s carry on talking as though you hadn’t said anything at all, but Harry doesn’t open his mouth again. He doesn’t stop looking at you though, and the way you look gorgeously defeated. A part of him wondered whether he was the one who caused you to be this way. About a month ago he asked some producers he knew that were working on your album with you how you are, and they said that you just seemed sad. It broke him to hear those words, just the words he had said to you all those months ago had broken you. Out of the blue, probably not but due to you not paying any attention, the group all move in, including you and Harry to have a reminiscent group photo.

He does open his mouth again when the group disperse to the dance floor, leaving the two of you all alone at the table.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t lift your eyes up from the end of the table cloth you’re messing with, an exasperated laugh leaving your lips, “What for? Breaking up with me? Taking everything from me? Or, I don’t know, using that in your song?”

“I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

“You thought I wouldn’t mind.” You shake your head, completely baffled at his words, “Why would you think that? I trusted you with that, and now it’s on the end of one of your songs.”

“I’m sorry about everything, but especially that.” He says, and you can tell he’s being genuine with the look in his eyes. He looks as though he’s about to cry.

“Why did you do it?” I asks, “You could’ve asked me. I would’ve said yes, I swear to you.”

“I was nervous.” He says, “We didn’t leave on the best of terms, and I felt as though asking would’ve have been the best.”

“So you decided to do it anyway?”

“Will you forgive me, please?” He asks, and you can tell his voice is about to break, “Please.”

“That’s it, Harry.” You say, “I don’t think I can.”

The next morning you awake with a slight hangover, which wasn’t surprising because once you’d left quickly after saying your last words to Harry, and opened a bottle of vodka that you had in your cupboard. That bottle now sits on your bedside table, three-quarters of it drunk and the cause of your hangover. You were thankful that you hadn’t gotten too drunk before you left the party, due to the wraths of paparazzi that were there as you left. You remember leaving with your head down, ignoring their calls and questions, as well as their their cameras flashed at you. You had gotten into your car, your driver had smiled at you and the second the car started moving away from the club you found yourself unable to stop the tears that streamed down your face.

This wasn’t the first time that you’d done this since you’ve broken up with Harry, but this was certainly the worse you’ve felt since you’ve done so. Your head had its own heartbeat, and you felt as though your were stable on your feet as you trudged towards the kitchen to have some orange juice, your remedy for your hangovers to say the least. It was always something that Harry thought ahead about when you were together. If he knew that the two of you were going out he’d always stock up the fridge. The amounts of time since that you’ve gotten drunk and not had any orange juice within the house is quite atrocious and he knew from experience that they never ended well.

You drink your first glass of the drink quickly, and pour your second one before making you way back into your bedroom. Due to the amount of time you spent in LA, you had purchased your second apartment here, your first being in London. It wasn’t the nicest ever, but it was good enough for you when you were here, and something that you were thankful to have when you woke up from nights like these.

You fall back down upon your bed and the first you think you pick up is your phone, shocked at the thousands of notifications your found on it. You’re still slightly asleep so you rub your eyes a few times before clicking upon the instagram app. The thousands of notifications are dm’s and comments upon your photos. After clicking through the notifications, you find the culprit sat with a lovely love heart emoji on Glenne’s story.

At some point that morning, probably whilst you were growing your sorrows away with vodka, she had posted the photo of you all on her story with the caption ‘the band’s back together,’ a heart emoji and tagged you in it. All the messages were asking whether you and Harry were back together again, not because you’d ever gone public with your relationship, but Harry had gone public with your breakup in his interview with the Rolling Stones and with Zane Lowe. He was very respectful in the way that he spoke about it, which was all you ask for. You hadn’t actively gone out to watch and read what he was saying, but your manager had warned you about them before you had done some interviews and you were curious to say the least what they were about.

In the photo you could tell that you and Harry were the only ones who were sober. Everyone else had drunken grins on their faces whilst you and Harry, to say the least, had very uncomfortable smiles across both of your lips. It annoyed you slightly that the two of you couldn’t even be in the same place anymore without having messages upon messages about whether or not you’re back together. Anyone with a brain could see that you certainly weren’t just by the expression on both of your faces.

You weren’t annoyed, or angry that the photo had been posted because you wouldn’t have taken the photo if you didn’t want it to be posted, but you did take the photo. You were always taking photos together before the breakup, and photo booths were you speciality. It’s another thing that you had hardly done since the breakup, so it was nice to see the photo but deep down a part of you wished that it hadn’t have been taken.

It’s all over all of the social media’s, and you decide that it’s probably best if you just put your phone down. You’re about place it on your bedside table when a notification pops up on the top of your screen, and without thinking, you tap on it, sending you straight to the messages app and to who had sent you the message.

Harry: YN?

Why he was sending you a message in the first place, you had no idea. Why he was messaging your so early in the morning was also something that confused you even more.

Harry: I know you’re reading this.

Harry: Your read receipts are on.

You curse yourself for being so click-happy when you see a notification, and more so for having your read receipts on because you know you can remove them but you don’t quite know how to. You contemplate for a few seconds what to say in your drunken, tired haze, before typing out the message:

YN: Can I help you?

His reply comes in a few seconds later.

Harry: Are you free?

YN: Why?

Harry: Meet me at Beachwood. Usual time.

YN: Why should I?

Harry: Just be there. Please.

YN: I will.

When you walk down the pavement towards the Beachwood Cafe, its as though you’re doing so without actually thinking about it. When you and Harry were together — this was your place. You can’t even remember the amount of dates the two of you have had here, tucked away in the corner whilst the music played, chatting away endlessly about things that popped into each of your minds. It got to the point that when you two were free, and managed to get to go, you had been that much that the waitresses knew your order by memory. The first time they had done it, you remember the way you both smiled sheepishly at each other and back at the waitress.

It was decorated for Christmas. You could see a tree in the corner of the cafe, as well as lights and tinsel across the windows. If you weren’t so nervous you probably would have smiled at the sight of it.

You push the door open and hear the familiar ding of a bell that rings whenever someone walks through, and you’re catapulted back to last year when you did the exact same thing but with a smile on your face from your excitement of seeing your boyfriend, one who you cared and loved very much.

The low hum of Mud’s Lonely this Christmas fills the room, very apt for the current situation and you’re guessing the mood of the conversation you’re about to have. It was late, close to closing time but you and Harry found that to be the best time to come, because hardly anybody else did.

He’s already sat at your usual table, the one in the corner because the two of you often liked to people watch. It had started off a silly game once when you were both tired and didn’t really want to talk about your lives, so you started brainstorming what other people’s were like. As much as you hated to admit it, Harry’s stories were always the better of the two of you but you didn’t mind, because you could little to the words he spoke to you for every minute for the rest of your life and you wouldn’t mind.

He’s already gotten your drinks, you can see the two glasses upon the table in front of him. You pull out the chair, making him look up from his phone at you. You can see his features immediately soften at the sight of you stood there.

They always used to do that.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” You don’t reply, “I got you a peppermint hot chocolate. I know It’s one of your favourites.”

It was one of your favourites, and you haven’t been able to have one in a while because, surprise surprise, they remind you of Harry, and the time you used to spend together.

“Thank you.” You say, picking up the drink and taking a sip of the hot liquid, dropping it back down and looking at him directly in the eyes, “Why did you invite me here?”

He clears his throat, and the movements of his elbows suggest he’s wiping his hands upon his trousers.

“I want to apologise. For everything, this time.” He says, and you watch as he places his hands back upon the table, messing with the rings on his hand. He still wore the one you got him for your anniversary a year ago, “For how I acted yesterday, the day we broke up and the months before hand. I was a dick, and there’s no excuse for it, but I just hope that you accept my apology.”

“I do.” You say, after a couple of seconds of contemplation, knowing that there was no point to having this dragged out for any longer than it already was, “I just want to know why, that’s all I want.”

“I.” He stops and lets out a shaky breath, “I don’t know, if I’m honest with you. I was just so investing into getting the album finished, and for some reason in my mind I thought that it would be best if I was single to do that.”

“Why would you think that?” You ask, the tears brimming on your waterline.

“I don’t know. The second I watched you walk out of the door, and when you didn’t turn around to look again but just drove away, I knew I’d messed up.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You choke back a sob, trying to be quiet to not draw attention to the two of you, “You should’ve stopped me. Explained. I love you Harry, I would have done anything to help you. You needed space, I would’ve given it to you. You needed me, I would’ve been there.”

He drops his head, “I know.”

“Then why didn’t you?” You suck in a breath and bite your head to stop anymore sounds from escaping, “You let me leave. You watched me leave. Why didn’t you stop me?”

“I felt guilty. I’d just broken up with you, love, do you really think that it would’ve been a good idea for me to all of a sudden say I wanted you back?”

Silent tears stream down your face, “You had months to, Harry. Months. You did nothing.”

“And it’ll be the biggest regret of my life, YN, I promise you.” He says, and you can tell that he’s trying to stop himself from crying, “It will be. I’ve been a mess without you.”

You still love Harry, and you know that you do, and you hate seeing him so upset. You believe that’s why you reach forward to take his hand in yours.

“I have too.”

Somehow, you and Harry had been booked on the same flight home, and you managed to get seats next to each other. Spending that time next to each other was good, you believed. It gave you the opportunity to properly speak and catch each other up on everything that had happened. Harry had apologised, yet again, for everything that had happened and you had too. You gushed over his album once you had done, and that was when he invited you to the Secret London Show he was holding at the Electric Ballroom.

That takes you to now, stood in front of your mirror looking over your outfit to make sure that it was presentable enough. You knew you had to look presentable, but it wasn’t as fancy as the Christmas party. You dressed yourself in a long sleeved black lace top, and paired it with some black jean flares and your docs. Simple, yet quite effective in the grand scheme of things.

You were nervous to say the least about what what the evening was going to hold, especially since Gemma and other people who you hadn’t seen since the two of you broke up were going to be there. You weren’t exactly prepared, and if they asked you any questions you’d have no idea about what to say, but once you had brought that up with Harry, he said to just answer with the truth, which you were going to.

The entire way to the electric ballroom you were nervous, your heart was beating out of you chest and you felt as though you shouldn’t have been going. You thought that up until you arrived, when you walked backstage to see Harry and Gemma stood talking whilst Harry was getting ready. Once he saw you, his features rose into a smile and yours did too, and you walked over to press a kiss to his cheek in greeting.

“YN!” You could hear the shock in Gemma’s voice as she noticed that it was you and she immediately stood up and wrapped her arms around you, “I haven’t seen you in so long. How are you?”

“I’m okay, thanks Gem.” You smiled, pulling away and tucking some of your hair behind your ear, “How are you?”

“I’m amazing.” She says, “I certainly didn’t expect you to be here. Are you two back together? Please tell me that you are.”

Instead of answering straight away, you turn to look at Harry briefly. You both knew exactly what was running through your brains, and the way you both smiled at each other made that completely obvious. He nodded, and then you knew exactly what to say.

You grin and turn back to Gemma, “Trying to.”

“Oh, I’m so happy for you.” She wraps you in another hug, “He was a mess without you, and I know you were a mess without him. You’re soulmates. I can’t believe he even did it in the first place.”

“I think we all couldn’t.” You laugh.

“Hey!” Harry whines from the chair beside the two of you, “I made a mistake, we all get it.”

You and Gemma laugh and from then it’s like the past six months hadn’t happened and you were still the best of friends. That was one thing about being with Harry, you loved his family just as much as you loved him. Gemma was like a sister to you, and she was even when you broke up but you just hadn’t seen her. Anne, well she was like a second mother to you. She always made sure to make you feel included at family gatherings, and she even came to stay with you sometimes when Harry went away for a while and you couldn’t go with him. You had missed Harry the most during this time, but Anne and Gemma were two people that you had also missed more than anything.

The majority of people make their way to where they’re watching the show soon after, but you tell Gemma that you’ll meet her on the balcony later because you wanted to have a quick word with Harry. He was in the middle of shrugging his jacket upon his shoulders when you walked through the door, and he immediately stopped his movements and turned to look at you.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Everything okay?”

You shrug and bite your lip, stepping for arms a few steps towards him, “Just wanted to see you.”

You find your eyes flicking up and down his body, taking in the monochrome yellow suit he had on with a black tie. You always loved and supported Harry’s wardrobe choices, and you had missed in the time you hadn’t been with him picking them out with him. You felt as though this was an excellent choice.

“You look amazing.” He says, taking a few steps forward so that you’re directly in front of each other. You watch as he lifts his hands up, about to place them on your waist but he stops himself and drops his arms back down. Without hesitation you grab his wrists and place them upon your waist. His eyes widen, but the second he feels your skin underneath his hand, just separated by the thin material of your lace top.

“Thank you.” You bite your lip and wrap your fingers around his tie, lightly picking up the material, “You look so handsome, H.”

He almost lets out a sob at your words, but he quickly stops himself and smiles at you. Without thinking, you lean forward and press your lips upon his. They feel so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time. You want to cry. You’ve dreamt of this for months, the feeling of having him this closer to you again, and from the way he wraps his arms around your back and pulls you even closer to him, so that your body is fully flushed against his. You pull away with a smile and immediately drop your head to his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist under his jacket and hugging him close to you. You finally feel a tear escape from your eye.

“I’ve missed you so much, H.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

He sings the entire Fine Line album from start to finish, and from how much you’ve listened to the album you actually know the majority of the words. You sing and dance away with Gemma, posting instagram stories of the two of you, and then one of how proud you are of Harry. You don’t need to explain yourself, there certainly isn’t a need to so you do so without any hesitation. You realise you’ve missed watching him perform, the way he can entertain a crowd with his talents has always been something you’d been jealous of. You’ve done shows here and there but because your album isn’t due to be out until the start of next year, when you plan to do your first world tour, and even though you try your hardest, you don’t feel as though you’ll ever be able to work a crowd the way he does. Where Stormzy came from, you still have no idea, since you hadn’t seen him downstairs but all of a sudden he’s singing Vossi Bop with Harry and your watching with your mouth dropped open in shock as he does so.

You and Harry make the executive decision to go to Harry’s house after the concert. It’s how you both found yourselves sat on Harry’s sofa, a glass of wine in each of your hands. You head is leant against the back of the sofa, whilst Harry’s hand leans upon the back of it, running his fingers through your hair. It’s comforting, and the smile hasn’t left your face since he started to do it.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, moving his hand from your hair to run his finger along your cheekbone, then down until he’s running it across your lips, “I can’t believe I ever pushed you away. You were my girl. I was going to marry you, I needed to marry you, still do.”

“I’m back now.” You whisper back, lifting your hand to place on his cheek, “And I’m not going anywhere. No matter how hard you try and push me away, I’m not leaving.”

“I don’t want you too.” He shakes his head, “I’ll never want you too again.”

Without really thinking, you take the glass out of Harry’s hand and place both of yours upon the table in front of you, listening to the sound as glass meets glass. He leans back on the sofa with a puzzled look, immediately realising what is happening when you move to straddle his hips, placing your hands upon his shoulders to steady yourself. His hands fall upon the small of your back, his hands dragging up and down to tease your skin.

You lean forward, moving so that your faces are inches apart. You knock his nose slightly with yours, causing his cheeks to curl upwards with a smile before you capture it with your lips. immediately responds by kissing your back, pushing his body so that it’s placed even closer to yours if it’s physically possible.

Without a warning you pull away from him, slipping off his lap so that you’re on your knees in front of him. His eyes never leave yours as you so, and he immediately opens his legs so that you can slip in between them, his finger running over his bottom lip as he watches you.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“Want to feel you.” You reply, resting your hands upon his thighs, “Want to feel you in my mouth. Can I?”

“Go ahead, baby.”

You feel excitement bubbling in the pit of your stomach, and with shaky hands you move to unfasten his belt, and unbutton and unzip his trousers without much struggle. He lifts his hips up so that you can manoeuvre his trousers down and off his legs, leaving him in his black boxers. You bite your lip at the sight of the tent within the flimsy material, already growing and ready for you. You feel slightly overwhelmed that after so long of waiting, and wanting him to be in front of you again, he actually is.

“Already so hard for me, H.” You say, running your hand over the fuzz upon his bare thighs, “Have you thought about this as much as I have.”

“I thought about it everyday.” He replies, quickly at that, “It’s etched in my brain, the sight of you on your knees for me.”

You bite your lip as your grin, leaning to press a kiss to his stomach, just above the happy little trial that slips underneath the hem of his boxers. You feel his stomach tense underneath your lips, especially when you hook your fingers into the hem of his boxers, wiggling the material down until you can completely take it off once he’d lifted his hips again. He’s fully hard for you, and you can feel your stomach doing little flips in excitement for what is going to happen.

Sex, as it is in most relationships, was a big part of yours and Harry’s. It’s important that couples are comfortable with each other when revealing such intimate parts of themselves, and you and Harry were. If any of of you wanted to try anything, you could do so because of how comfortable you felt with each other. Whenever the other wanted to try anything, you’d do so without any hesitation and in such a way that you both enjoyed it. You both had your kinks, and your shared ones, and over the courser of your relationship you both explored those feelings. You were just happy that even though you had spent such time away from each other, you could still feel that confidence bubbling between the two of you, and those feelings bubbling between each other. Harry made you feel a way no other human being has ever been able to, and you were thankful because you felt as though you’d never be able to find that with anyone else, and now you didn’t have to worry because you were back together.

“You ready to take me in your mouth baby.” He says, placing his hand upon your cheek, “Ready to take me the way you used to.”

“Always, baby.”

Your tongue slips from between your lips and you lick a stripe up his throbbing cock, causing a low groan to escape through Harry’s lips. You can’t help but smile at the sound, knowing that you had caused that. Another groan escapes his lips once you wrap your lips around his tip completely, taking it into your mouth and you can help but giggle slightly. He smiles down at you and pulls your hair up so that it’s off of your face, making a makeshift ponytail to help move you up and down his cock.

“Look so good with my cock in your mouth.” His tongue slips out of his mouth to wet his lips, “Always could take me so well. Show me, baby, show me how deep you can go.”

You comply, taking him as deep as you can until you can feel him in the back of your throat. You eyes start to water, and you look up at him through your eyelashes. You hold for as long as possibly can before he lightens his touch and allows you to pull away. A string of saliva connects you two together as you and you wipe your lips with the back of your hand to remove it.

“Can you do it again?” He asks and you sheepishly nod, flicking your eyes between his throbbing member and him a few times before wrapping your lips back around him, “Fuck, baby, no one can do this like you can. No one.”

His words spur you on and you deep throat him as far as you possibly can before you need to gasp for air, taking a few seconds before starting to bob your head again, taking a few seconds at each time to run your tongue over his throbbing tip, collecting some of the salty pre-come that had started to bubble there.

“So good to me.” He lets you stop for a minute, and you place your head upon his thigh so that you can catch you breath. It was almost as though he knew that you needed to take a breather. You had the slight problem of always trying to do more than you’re able too and you almost always end up loosing too much of your breath, “Even though I’m an absolute twat. You’re always so good to me.”

“You deserve it.” You say, your throat a little coarse from your actions before.

“I don’t.” He shakes his head, “I broke your heart.”

You hesitate for a few seconds, “But you’re fixing it.”

“I shouldn’t have broken it in the first place.”

You move so that your higher up and able to place a kiss to his lips, whispering against them, “You’re fixing it.”

He kisses you back with more passion than before, moving his hand to grip under your thighs so that he can pick you up and place your on his. His fingers tug at the hem of your lace shirt, so you detach your lips so that you can pull it over your head. He groans at the sight of your bare chest to him, your nipples hardening into stiff buds at the feeling of the cold air immediately on your skin.

“No bra?” He presses a few open mouthed kisses to your neck, “You’ve been with me all evening, and I never even fucking noticed that you didn’t have a bra on.”

“You used to have a special talent for noticing when I didn’t have a bra on.” You giggle, sighing slightly at the feeling of his lips on his neck, and then the subtle feeling of his teeth grazing your skin.

“I must’ve lost my touch. But don’t worry.” He pulls away and looks you directly in the eye, “I’ll soon get it back.”

“Of course you will.” You laugh, but he stops it with his lips. The first time you and Harry kissed, you were so nervous. You felt as though you were going to mess up and he’d never want to kiss you again. You were completely wrong, and he actually ended up saying that it was one of the best kisses of you life. You couldn’t believe his words, and since then you completely found yourself wanting his lips to be on yours. Just as they were now, his tongue slipping between your lips and the feeling always transporting the two of you to where it’s just you, and you have the time in the world to kiss as much as you want to.

He moves his kisses down your neck, leaving sloppy ones against your skin until he was at the curve of your breast. Harry was a boob man, you knew that for a fact. As much as he loved to hold onto your ass every now and then, you always noticed that he spent the majority of his time focusing on your boobs. Whether it be sucking blemishes into the plushly skin whilst you fucked, or laying his head on them as you both calmed down from your activities, he always, without fail, focused on your boobs.

He knew that if he attacked your nipples skilfully with his tongue, he could have your dampening your panties and clenching your thighs together so much that he couldn’t resist it. He starts by wrapping his lips around your right nipple, tugging on the flesh slightly with his lips before letting it go with a pop.

“Fucking love your tits, love.” He sighs and you giggles slightly before gasping at the feeling of his pinching your other nipple with his fingers, “Fit in my hands, and in my mouth, so nicely.”

You moan in response to his words and throw your head back as he wraps his lips around your other one, sucking and sending flutters all the way down to your core. You wanted him, yearned for him, and you were beginning to grown inpatient.

“Can we go to your bedroom?” You run your fingers through his hair and pull his head back so that he’s looking at you, “Bedroom.”

“Is that where you want it?”

“Want it in your bed.” You say, placing your hand upon his cheek, “Our bed.”

He stands up with you still on him, your legs wrapped around him as he carries your upstairs. You rest your head upon his shoulder so he can look over yours and direct you safely to the comforts of his bedroom.

This place didn’t hold the best of memories from the last few months of your relationship but if you ignored that and focused on the positives, you had some of your best times in this room. It was a place where the two of you could completely be yourselves, and have a place to call yours. The pillow talk that occurred in this room was out of this world, and it was where you planned your future. One that was put on hold briefly but now seemed to be ready for the two of you again.

“Will you strip for me?” He asks as he places your down in the room, “I want to watch you slip out of those jeans, baby.”

You nod but at first undress him. You slip the jacket from his shoulders, skilfully loosen his tie and pull it over his head. Next is his shirt which you start to unbutton, but Harry grows impatient and rips it off, the buttons flying in all sorts of directions.

“Harry!”

“Oops?” He laughs, sitting down on the bed.

You had given Harry one strip tease before, for his birthday a year ago and it had gone down a treat. You had dressed up in your fanciest lingerie, which happened to be a black set that he had bought specifically for you for your birthday with ‘Styles’ embroidered on the inside. There was something, for the both of you, that you loved about seeing his name all over your the undergarments you wore. Whenever you wore them out in public, the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other, as though you were hiding a naughty secret that you didn’t want anyone to know about.

“Are you going to?” He urged, not taking his eyes off you’re, “I’m waiting.”

“Might make you wait a little longer.” You smile, running your fingers along the hem of your jeans, “Seeing as though you left me waiting for how long?”

“Don’t tease.”

“Why?” You shrug, “That was your speciality, wasn’t it?”

He had a love for teasing you, always had done. From the first time the two of you had sex, you knew he liked to tease. He liked to tease you all over, having your body withering under his touch until you couldn’t help but beg for him to touch you. You had a slight suspicion that he enjoyed hearing you beg for him, whimpering under his touch until you were crying for him to touch you. You remember that once, he had been teasing you all day whilst you had been out and about, but once you had gotten home he was teasing you so badly, overstimulating you over and over until you were crying for him to make your come.

“Just strip, my love.” You laugh and his words and unfasten the button to your jeans, turning around so that your ass is facing him, pulling your jeans down to reveal your black lace panties to him. You’re not surprised when he smacks his hand to the flesh of your ass, causing you to turn around with a gasp.

“That wasn’t nice.” You move so that you’re straddling him again.

“When have I ever been nice?” He raises his eyebrows, “I don’t think you want me to start now.”

He leans forward and places his lips to yours again, his body falling back upon the bed so that you’re hovering above him. His fingers run down from the small of his back, to her ass again until he’s gripping the flesh between his fingers, quite harshly you must say so which goes straight to your core. You know that the front of your panties are ruined by your wetness, and you know for certain that Harry does also.

“Sit on my face.” He mumbles against your lips.

“What?” You whisper back.

“Sit on my face.” He places a kiss to your jaw, “Wanna eat that pretty cunt, want to have you trembling above me.”

You would squeeze your thighs together, but you can’t because of his body between yours. You nod your head and clamber off him, pulling your underwear down your legs quickly. You move up the bed until you’re next to his head, spreading your legs and placing your knees on either side of his head. His hands grip your thighs, dancing his fingers along your thighs.

“Please, H.” You say, pushing his hair off of his forehead as you look down at him.

“Didn’t think you’d be begging so soon, baby.” He chuckles, pressing a few kisses upon your cheeks.

“I’m doing no such thing.” You shake your head, “You’re just being slow.”

He certainly isn’t being slow when he leans his head forward and starts to attack your clit with his tongue. You have to quickly lean forward also and grab the headboard to steady yourself, a moan escaping your lips as he does so. He attacks your clit quickly, and you can’t help but grind your hips forward at the feeling. He curls his hands around your thighs, stopping you from moving anymore. You cry out as he doesn’t slow down, and you pull his hair slightly. It emits a moan from him which vibrates against your clit, creeping your closer and closer to your peak.

It becomes a cycle. As you pull on his hair, more moans and groans tumble from his lips again sty your clit. He knew the more that he focused upon your clit, the closer you’d find yourself to your orgasm. He had learnt this, and he certainly hadn’t forgotten it.

You bite your bottom lip and close your eyes, rocking your hips back and forth against his tongue. He knows your close, due to your thighs clamping around his head. He doesn’t slow down, but instead he flicks his tongue even quicker.

“Fucking hell.” You moan, your body starting to shake as you feel your orgasm wash over you. He continues to attack your clit, coaxing you through your orgasm until you’ve finished and catching your breath.

“You taste so fucking good.” He says, dancing his fingers upon your thigh, “Missed your taste.”

“Fuck me, H.” You say, breathlessly.

He doesn’t hesitate. You manoeuvre yourself off of his head and lay so that you’re head is rested upon his pillow. He leans to open his bedside drawer but you stop him, grabbing his arm and pulling his back to you.

“Did you sleep with anyone else?” You ask, knowing that this could make or break whether you were going to be fucked or not at this moment.

“No.” He says, immediately shaking his head, “I didn’t. Did you?”

You also shake your head, “I wanna feel you, H. Want you to come in me.”

He groans without even touching you yet, or you touching him. He immediately drops his lips to yours, and you can’t help but giggle and smile into the kiss. You wrap your arms around his back and pull him closer to you. He pulls away slightly, just to grip his cock, running his thumb over his tip a few times.

“Are you sure?” He says and you nod, threading your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Please, H.” You nod, hips bucking towards his, “I need you.”

“Need you too.” He kisses you again, “Always need you.”

He leans forward, looking down between the two of you to line his cock up with your entrance. He runs the tip over your clit for a second before pushing into you. Your walls immediately envelope him, tightening around him with every inch that he moves in. You sigh against his lips, wrapping your arms around his back. He starts to move in and out of you, your walls clenching around him as he tries to find his rhythm.

“Fuck.” You can’t help but moan that into his ear.

“Taking me so well.” You drop your hands to rest on your pillows next to him, to which he takes your hand in his as he starts to quicken his pace, “Missed your pussy so much. Never leaving again.”

Instead of replying, you place your lips upon his again. From the way his eyes are screwed closed, you can tell that he’s close. If it’s possible, he starts to thrust his hips harder towards you, hitting a point so deep into you that causes a whine to fall from your mouth.

“You’re gonna come, aren’t you?” He says against your neck, moving in and out until your thighs are shaking beneath him, “Can feel you, fuck, can feel you clenching around me. Milking my cock, aren’t you?”

You hum, “Feel so good, H. I’m so close.”

When you do come, you see stars. You clench around him, and profanities escape your lips. The feeling is completely how you remember it. You hadn’t been completely celibate since breaking up with Harry, since you do own a little bullet vibrator that had been your friend. You had it for years before you met Harry, and you used it whenever he was away or if the two of you fancied spicing it up every now and then.

You come down from your high just as Harry is catapulted into his, coating your walls with his as does so. His body collapses on top of yours, his head rested at the side of yours. He’s still inside of you, and both of your chests are rising up at down at a quick pace.

“Fucking hell.” He laughs, and you turn your head to look at him. He has a grin upon his face and you lean forward to kiss his dimple, “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”

“I know.” You smiled, “You’ve told me multiple times. I’ve missed you to.”

He finally pulls out, and you immediately felt empty. You whined slightly and he moved off of you, dropping down upon the bed next to you. You take this as the opportunity to slip from your bed. Due to not having sex in a long time, you flip your legs over the edge of the bed and prepare yourself for having to take a few steps. Taking a deep breath, you stand up and waddle your way towards Harry’s bathroom, scooping up Harry’s shirt on the way.

You know the way like the back of your hand, and it’s oddly comforting to you. Once you’re in the bathroom, you clean yourself and do your business. Once you’re satisfied, you shrug Harry’s shirt on and do up a few buttons so that you’re covering at least a bit of yourself as you do so.

Harry’s underneath the covers as you return to his room, smiling at you with dimples and all as you walk back through the door. He’s on his side of the bed, and you clamber into yours. The feeling of having someone in bed next to you makes you happy inside. You lay upon your side, with one of your hands beneath you head and Harry copies your movement. Your faces are close, and he leans forward to place a kiss to your nose.

You smile, “Hi.”

“Hi, love.”

“Are you okay?” You ask and he nods, “Do you think we’ve rushed this?”

“No.” He’s quick to say, “I don’t think we have. We needed this. I’ve never felt closer to someone as I do to you right now.”

“Me neither.” You smile, moving to grab his hand that was rested upon his side, “And I don’t think I will again.”

“Darling.” Harry says, pointing his finger in the air as he does so.

Chloe hesitates for a second before letting out a, “Ding!” to say that he was right.

It was Boxing Day, and after spending Christmas Eve and the majority of Christmas Day with your family, you had driven from your family house up to Cheshire to spend the rest of Christmas Day and Boxing Day with Harry’s family. You were all sat in the living room playing a game, sporting glasses of wine and basking in the Christmassy feeling of being together again.

After Harry’s show on the nineteenth, and the acts that happened afterwards, you and Harry had many conversations. There was a few tears from the two of you, and the conversation got heated in some aspects but you were together again, and that was the main thing. Originally, you had decided to spend Christmas separate, without each other’s company just because it was such a sudden change and you wanted to make sure that you fully weren’t rushing into things. Then, whilst sat on the sofa after devouring your Christmas dinner, with Mud’s Lonely this Christmas playing through your speakers that you realised that you missed Harry, and a Christmas without seeing him now was a Christmas that you didn’t want in your life.

You had contemplated surprising him and just turning up, but you felt as though that wasn’t fair on the rest of his family, and that’s why you messaged and asked him. He replied asking whether you were certain that you wanted to do this, and you said yes and he said that he’d have a cup of tea ready for you whenever you arrived.

He did have one ready for you, and it was everything you needed to warm yourself up after the long journey.

Anne, Gemma and Michal asked no questions to you, but you had no doubt that they had asked Harry some on your journey. Anne had welcomed you with a hug, and so did Gemma and once their prying eyes were away, Harry kissed you as though his life depended on it, pressed against the staircase of his mother’s house whilst fairy lights twinkled around them.

Anne’s next to go, hoping that her answer of, “Sweetheart,” was at the top of the list.

Chloe replies with, “Uh huh,” to which everyone “Ooo’s” in response at.

You’re rested upon the back of the sofa, with a flute of Champagne in your hand. Harry, in his flat-cap almost breaking your hear with how handsome he looked, turned around and pointed his finger at you.

“Come on, now.” He says, “Be smart with this. It’s sticky stuff.”

“Babe.” You immediately reply, knowing that was one of pet names that Harry called you the most.

People around the room laugh at Harry’s phrase of ‘sticky-stuff’ but that doesn’t mask Chloe’s exclamation of, “Ding!” followed by, “Top answer.”

You smile at the knowledge and Harry turns to you also, holding his fist up for you to fist bump which you both laugh at. He holds his hand out and you pass him your drink, which he takes a sip of quickly before returning it to you so you can carry on playing the game.

Michal is next, and for some bizarre reason to all of you he says, “Cutie-pie,” which certainly isn’t on the list. The room chuckles around you, and Harry says something about him “returning to the mines’’ which you all laugh at, but you specifically roll your eyes at.

The game soon wraps up, and you have your meal. Harry sits next to you, and had his hand upon your thigh the entire way through. The table around the two of you chatted about all sorts, many of the questions being about when your music was coming out which you certainly didn’t expect. You started to feel as though your album, when it came out, wouldn’t be very complimentary of your relationship with Harry, and you were starting to regret it slightly, but you loved all of your songs and you hoped that when you showed Harry, and the world for that matter, that they would too.

You and Harry, after the meal had finished, had offered to be on washing up duty. You had been given the task of washing up, whilst Harry dried because he felt as though his skills were better there. You let him believe that and carry on with drying all of the special Christmas cutlery that didn’t go in the dish-washer.

Once you had finished, and you were drying your hand upon the towel, you felt hands upon your waist, more specifically, Harry’s. He place a kiss to your neck and you giggled, turning around so that upon were facing him. He immediately captures your lips with his, and you wrap your arms around your neck to steady yourself from the attack of his lips. His hands immediately again go to your waist, slipping his hand underneath the material of your jumper to rest upon your skin. Once you pull away, you look at him with a smile upon your face.

“What was that for?”

“What?” He shrugs, “Can’t I kiss my girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend?” You ask, unable to hide your smile.

“Girlfriend.” He nods, “That’s what you are, aren’t you?”

You nod your head and place another kiss to his lips, the feeling running through the two of you without really knowing how significant he really was.

“If you want me to be. I want to be.”

He lifts one of his hands and places it upon your cheek, running his thumb ever so delicately along your skin.

“I love you.” He says, with no hesitation in his voice, “I know I’ve been shitty, and I probably shouldn’t be saying this to you, especially not in the way that I am, but I do love you and I never stopped. I swear to you, that from now on my love for you will be the most important thing, and I won’t ever, ever make you second best again.”

“That’s all I want.” You reply, leaning forward to place a kiss upon his lips, “I love you too.”

With the year that you had, and the feeling as though you’d never be with this man again, you couldn’t believe that here you were with him. He was with you, and he was yours and there was no doubt in your mind that what happened earlier this year will never happen again. It was almost as though this was something that your relationship needed to grow stronger in itself, and it surely was now.

He wraps an arm around your neck and pulls you onto his chest, “I’m never letting you go again. I probably won’t let you out of my sight again.”

“I can’t say that I’d ever complain.”

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #harry styles writing

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pineapple-lover-boy · 3 years

Text

Can- can I just talk about the Victuuri relationship? Pretty please?

I just…. I’ve never seen a healthy relationship that starts from idolization and a need to get out that has ended in a satisfying way.

Let me elaborate:

We all know that Yuri idolized Victor. It’s why he was so nervous in the beginning and why it took time for them to build on their relationship, he saw Victor as a god.

Victor? He was depressed. He loved the ice so much but he longer found excitement in competitions. He didn’t have any worthy opponents that had a chance of beating him (sorry Chris).

I believe Victor “fell in love” at the banquet. He was attracted to Yuri but, even though he lost, he also saw potential in him. That night was probably the most exciting night for him in a long time. I think he felt genuine affection for Yuri but also saw a way to get out of his predicament.

Then, of course, Yuri didn’t show up the following season (a year had passed before the present timeline). He was most likely annoyed that someone who had gave him excitement didn’t show up. Did he think Yuri had a chance of beating him at first? Probably not. Did he see potential or at least someone he could have fun with during the season? Hell yes!

And then when he saw the video of Yuri skating Stay Close To Me, something that awarded him a gold medal. That’s all he needed. He saw how Yuri not only skated it perfectly but I bet he thought Yuri skated it better. Let’s not forget that emotion is a huge part of skating. If you don’t skate with the passion your supposed to hold for whatever theme you have, your performance can almost seem futile. Victor obviously won because he perfected it but if it was based on how he presented it alone, he would’ve lost. He saw someone worthy of skating an gold medal piece while also having the heart to do it. That’s talent.

Anyways, because of this, their relationship doesn’t hold well in the beginning. He’s passive aggressive towards Yuri because he doesn’t see his own talent and Yuri is just going along for the ride because holy shit it’s Victor fucking Nikiforov.

As they get to know each other and Yuri opens up more (plus Victor getting info on Yuri from the others) Victor starts to see Yuri as an actual person and not someone he can use to project himself onto and then later skate against. And Yuri starts to see him as an actual person too.

I saw on another post talking about how we didn’t see them during the summer and how the end credits of every episode suggest they got to know each other better as both in the credits and in the show they (Yuri) are able to touch each other more. I 100% believe this.

I also believe they might’ve had an argument or two on this topic. It’s not easy to switch from inadvertently seeing someone as anything but a person to an actual person with emotions and feelings. I believe Victor would’ve tried to back away from this subject but Yuri wouldn’t let him. It wasn’t big arguments like in episode 7. It was probably little quarrels that annoyed them both but after having a long conversation they finally started to become more comfortable with each other.

Yuri started letting go of the notion that Victor was a god like creature and Victor saw him as something other than a pawn. Yuri stopped getting as embarrassed with Victor touching him and Victor stopped trying to seduce him as much just so he could see the man from the banquet.

This most definitely leads the way towards a healthier relationship but episode 7 was inevitable. Yuri’s anxiety was at an all time high when he comes out on top. The fact that he needs to stay on top and not mess up is getting to him. As a person with anxiety, it’s pure hell. The thoughts of failing won’t get out of his head and even as he turns off all the monitors he can still hear everything.

Victor takes him away from prying eyes and has no idea what to do. Despite an obvious change that would’ve had to include some emotions from both occurring over the summer, he still has no idea how to help someone in distress.

Then he makes his first mistake. Yuri is visibly shaken by someone’s scores (can’t remember who) and Victor, who is at his wits end, yells at him to stop listening and puts his hands over Yuri’s ears. This tells Yuri how nervous Victor is too and despite knowing that Victor wouldn’t leave him now it shows to him that Victor doesn’t have faith in him (even if he does).

Victor tried to shatter Yuri’s heart. He must’ve expected Yuri to maybe sign heavily but tell him that he’ll do everything in his power to win (probably something that’s happened with him and Yakov). Instead he see’s the consequences of his carelessness. Yuri rightfully lashes out at him and even through all that Victor stills says “should I kiss you?”. Idk what Yuri was thinking but if I were him I would be extremely offended that Victor would try and use me like some doll he can play with and can assume that physical affection and love can fix everything, which was probably what Yuri was thinking.

There’s something off about Yuri and Victor when they emerge but Yuri is surprisingly better now. Cathartic crying can do wonders, kids. There’s also my favorite part of the entire show (couldn’t find a gif):

*head jab* “Hey, fuck you.”

*more head jabs* “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. I know you don’t like this you unempathetic dicknip.”

*head pat* “You’re forgiven.”

We all know what happens next: Yuri ends his love story with Victor’s signature move and Victor kisses him out of joy and the need to one up him (with love, of course).

I’m gonna get a little sloppy here with the timeline because I have the memory of a female protagonist that needs to go back to work to get something only to accidentally bump into the jerk CEO of which she will develop a toxic relationship for fan service, so forgive me.

Gonna skip ahead to the scene where Yuri tells Victor that he’s leaving skating, and basically Victor too. (At this moment I realized I’ve been spelling Viktor with a c and not a k which is really fucking with my brain but it’s too late to go back). Victor starts crying and realizes just how Yuri felt when he was rejecting him.

I believe Yuri found some light in the situation because of that fact, which Victor was not having. They’ve been closer than ever now. They’ve kissed, they’ve also announced they they’re getting married, so what the hell?!

Yuri, as we know, feels he’s keeping Victor from the ice. Victor, while he misses the ice and wouldn’t mind being competitive again, has found meaning and if he’s going to be Yuri’s coach to stay where he is than so be it.

He wanted to coach Yuri because he wanted a worthy competitor and while he still wants that, what matters most now is his relationship with Yuri. If he stops being Yuri’s coach and Yuri goes off the ice he knows it will be the end. Yuri loves the ice too and I’d bet he’d try to distance himself from Victor as to not feel regret from leaving without actually knowing that he’s doing it.

They’ve grown so much at this point. But that doesn’t mean it’s over. After all they’ve been through Yuri doesn’t realize that consequences of parting from one another. While being too dependent on your spouse isn’t good, it’s what they both need right now. They are what caused the other person to be happy again and while I hate those types of storylines this one executed it perfectly.

I find Victor’s silent plea to Yurio absolutely heartbreaking. He knows it’s bad to put pressure on people but now he’s doing that to a 15 year old boy. He’s putting his relationship and his life into this child’s hands because he knows there’s nothing else he can do.

I do think Yurio had a crush on Yuri but even if he didn’t: Yuri has taught him so much. He, although being an ass most of the time, has really come to love Yuri as family. It’s clear that Yurio was always lonely (Otabek being his first friend and all) but once he came to Japan and lived, truly lived there, he wasn’t lonely anymore.

Yurio wins, Yuri gets silver and all’s well that ends well.

I guess my point of this was to show how well the relationship in YOI was. I could’ve included some more detail on some points but I usually write stuff in one take (it’s very hard to revise without my mind shutting on itself).

I just love how an implicitly toxic relationship can come out so healthy. They don’t do any of that miscommunication bullshit and when they do it’s because the characters don’t know what to do or how to handle something. Like humans do!

They could’ve easily made this the hot famous guy thinks the kawai girl boy is just so adorable and the kawai girl boy is absolutely infatuated with the hot guy. Hijinks ensue which includes the kawai girl boy thinking the hot guy is in love with someone else. She He gets pushed into thinking that she’s he’s more independent in the end and happily ever after for the couple that will divorce in less than five years! Yay!

Seriously, I thought that was what was going to happen but YOI subverted my expectations so much. They are people that grew from their bad mindsets. And you know what? Yuri still has anxiety! Victor is still bad with handling emotions! And that’s ok! We don’t change that quickly. It takes time and hopefully another season.

I’m definitely using this show as a template for healthy relationships. It’s so hard for me to properly write them when I’ve never been in one and I’m not given the chance to see it happen in different environments (when searching it up all I get is “they trust each other. They blame each other. They’re compassionate.” Like ok but can you show me how?)

Yuri!!! On ice…. I love you so much. You have done so much for my mental health and my writing. Thank you.

#yuri on ice #yuri katsuki #katsuki yuri #victor nikiforov #viktor nikirofov #please tell me if you want me to elaborate on some sections #long post #yurio plisetsky #yuri plisetsky #healthy relationships

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jschlattsbabydoll · 3 years

Text

Ocean Away (Chishiya Shuntaro X Reader)

Plot:

After Chishiya has left you in a game, you understood his true nature. You decided to leave the beach with the approval of your uncles.

A/N: Hello! So I’m back.

I just want to let you all know, that Yes… I know that this might be a too much off a stretch, since Hatter and Aguni is your uncles.

And yes, I kinda hurried making the story, because I have a lot of errands for tomorrow and later, I would be asking for a rest day shift, because, I need extra money, and I need to pay bills… I hate adult life.

BTW, I found this Inspiration towards the song, “OCEAN AWAY by Loreen.”

You can listen to the song and I’ll leave a link to the song.

Anyways, If I have any lapses or mistakes on the story, please let me know! I’ll be happy to receive criticisms in my story, I would know where to improve more.

Thank you so much and please enjoy! 😊

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Ocean away Part 2

“Can I make a request, Uncle Hatter?”

The man looked at you, “What do you request?”

“Can you hide me away from the beach?” you said, as you looked at him, you sat on one of the chairs that are inside the royal room, “I need to run away from someone.”

Hatter looked at you, “What’s going on?”

You smiled, but tears fell down your face, “I didn’t know that heartbreak felt this way.”

The man in front of you went near you, knelt down and held your hand gently, “I just want to get away. The games are stressing me out and I can’t get this feeling get in the way of what our plans are, Uncle.” You breathe out,

“I should be strong like mom was like back in the real world, but I’m not her, I’m weak. “, you cried out, and Hatter hugged you, his tear fell as he heard you talk about your mom.

Hatter, Aguni and your mom had been best of friends since they were in high school, She would take you whenever she would visit Hatter’s shop and Aguni would be there and you four would have lots of fun. Talking about dreams and happiness.

But your mom died due to a heart attack, and your two uncles have decided to take you with them. But, suddenly in your high school years, they disappeared like a bubble and people around them had no clue on where they might have gone to.

Just when you have graduated college, went you entered the borderlands and heard of the beach. You saw them again and got reunited with them again.

They given you a high number of place in the beach, so that when the time comes you could easily come back to the real world and be reunited with them again.

“I won’t betray you and uncle Aguni. You can know where I am hiding, and I promise to still give you all the cards that I would win. I won’t betray the utopia that you have brought to us.”

As Hatter removed the hug from you, “I will settle the plans Agni-chan. Are you sure about this?” he asked,

“Yes I am.” You said that you wiped the tears out your face,

“You’re not weak, my dear. Sometimes we just need some air to breathe in so that we can learn to properly function again.” He said, as he helped you wipe your tears, “I know that your mom is so proud of you up there. And Agni and I would keep you safe and happy.”

You hugged your uncle again, “I love you, Uncle Hatter. I’m sorry for the bother that I became.”

After a while, Aguni and Hatter has spoken about the plans of you hiding somewhere in Tokyo. Aguni has suggested that it should be done after a game that they would play, so that they can drive you to a hiding spot secretly.

“We can hide you tomorrow, Hatter and I can join the game since our visas are running out.” Aguni has told you, and you nodded.

“Just incase that you need some help, I will give you a walkie talkie. Just give a beep and we will be there. We would be giving you some supplies while we hide you out.”

“Thank you, Uncle Aguni and Uncle Hatter.” You said,

After Hatter has left the room, you and your Uncle Aguni was left in the royal room,

“I told you not to be acquainted with people here in the beach. People here won’t take relationships seriously, especially that we in this type of crisis. People will use you for their advantage and for their satisfaction, just to get out of this world.” He scolded you, but you did not respond. He did in fact told you not to fall in love in the borderlands, but you were just too hard headed.

“and knowing Chishiya, he’s using you for his gain. He’s not that clever, and I know he has plans… I’ve known him before you entered the borderlands, he’s manipulative. He had used too many others inside the beach… I don’t know why he’s still keeping Kuina… but, I know that Kuina is smart.” He said, then he looked at you, “I’m not saying that you’re not smart, you’re smart, my child. But it’s just Chishiya has got you into his hands.”

“Have you told uncle Hatter? About chishiya, I mean?” You asked,

“No… no I haven’t. I won’t tell him. He’s….” he closed his eyes, “He’s too far gone…Do you remember when he found out that people were hiding card from him…”

Definitely… You remember was your uncle has done… dead bodies in a room, he’s still kicking and punching one of them, no life on the person’s eye. Your Uncle Aguni went in front of you to shield you.

“Agni-chan…. Y/n… I found that they have been hiding card from.” He said in crazed eyes, “We will be setting a new rule… ‘Death to the traitors.’”

Still the memories haunt you to this day… You nodded to your Uncle…

“I don’t want him to go that route…” He admitted

“I don’t want him too either.” You said sadly,

“If he founds out that it was Chishiya … And that he has manipulated you, I don’t know what he can do… Or Chishiya can do. Especially that they are both executives.”

You’ve seen Chishiya in games… He has no mercy, no feelings that all. When he told you that he loves you, you didn’t feel anything in his confession, but smirked when you told him that you loved him too.

When you were with him in a Five diamonds game, he was ready to sacrifice you. He left you when you needed him. But after all of that, you still come to him like his pet. You wouldn’t have survived at all if Arisu didn’t came, saving you from being drowning.

“So, you’re telling the whole beach that I’m dead, Uncle?”

“Yes.”

You breathe in and out, you stood up from where you were sat down.

“I’m going to bed, uncle Aguni.”

“Please be careful, My child.” He said, you looked at him, and you smiled, “Thank you, Uncle, say good night as well to Uncle Hatter for me…”

“I will.” He said, and you turned your back, and left the room,

As you went to towards that room that you were staying in, you saw Chishiya waiting on your doorstep, he slowly looked at you and grinned, you walked towards him,

“Hm… Had a talk with your uncles…” he asked,

“Yeah. They just asked me if I was still alright or good.” You said, you avoided looking into his eyes, “Something is bothering you. Tell me, what did your uncles tell you?”

“Nothing… They just told me not to be acquainted with somebody here from the beach.”

“And?” he pushed more, he caught me by the eye,

“We will play the games tomorrow… I will be going with them.” You said,

Chishiya looked at you in the eyes, trying to look for more answers, “You have a lot of days in your visa. Why bother playing the games together with your uncles.”

“I want to join them by tomorrow. Not every day I could spend time with my father figures.”

Chishiya looked away from, “Hm.” He just only replied.

Feeling tired with the conversation, you decided to enter your room, he followed you in as soon as the door closed, you faced him again, “What would you do if I suddenly got lost or suddenly disappeared.”

Chishiya didn’t reply immediately, but smirked when he thought about the answer, “Why would you suddenly disappear?”

“I don’t know. You know that a lot of things could happen here in the borderlands.”

“hm…” He just said, as he went towards your bed, and sat there. His hands went to his side, and tapped on the bed to signal that you should sit with him,

You followed his instructions, but after sitting down, you let yourself fall into the bed, you closed your eyes and you felt the bed hit your back, you opened your eyes and you saw Chishiya on top of you looking directly at your eyes,

“Don’t leave me.” He said, as he slowly went down to press his body towards yours, he went ahead and placed his lips to your, his tongue asking for entrance, you let him enter. As your mouths asked for dominance, he took both of your hands on the top of your head,

He let go of the kiss and went straight to you neck and left kisses.

“I won’t… “, You lied,

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Ocean Away Part 2

#chishiya imagine #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya #chishiya x reader #alice in borderland #kuina alice in borderland #alice in bordeland imagine #Alice in borderland x reader #niragi #niragi imagines #niragi suguru #kuina x reader #kuina #hikari kuina

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tryingmybestpls · 3 years

Text

From the Dining Table

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Sam Wilson x Reader

Summary: Sam decided to visit the Reader and her daughter in the months following Steve’s death.

Word Count: 2k

Rating: T

Warnings: a child, mentions of infertility, mentions of a miscarriage, talks of pregnancy, mentions of loss, death, feelings of loneliness, depression, grief

Y/N looked exhausted.

Sam watched from his seat at the kitchen island as she bounced the crying infant in her arms, trying to soothe little Sarah Rogers. The bundle of pink was screaming her, upset at everyone and everything. Y/N smiled at him apologetically, holding her child with one arm while the other went to work grabbing a bottle from the fridge.

"I don't know if you can tell, but I wasn't her favorite parent." Y/N tells Sam, only joking slightly as she pops the lid off the bottle with one hand. She cradles her daughter carefully before giving her the bottle, silencing her cries. A smile stretches across her face, happy that her child's cries had stopped.

Y/N had been dealt a bad hand by the universe.

Steve and Y/N had tried for years to have a baby. Both of them had desperately wanted a family, wanted some slice of normalcy in their lives. At first, in that first year they were married, it had been fun, playing that guessing game each month. They weren't seriously trying then, just letting whatever happen to happen. Then as one year turned into two, they got a little more serious about the whole thing. Both of them did everything they needed to do-they got tested to make sure everything was working right, did everything the doctor told them to do. Dozens of false positive pregnancy tests had plagued them in those first two years, constantly getting their hopes up old to rip that all away. Trying in the third year was halted by the Sokovia Accords and the team fighting each other. Y/N and Steve both thought it would be a bad idea to try to have a child while they were on the run, so they stopped their efforts. The fourth year had brought heartbreak when Y/N had actually gotten pregnant for the first time, but lost the baby before she was twelve weeks along. They tried a few times in the fifth year, months after Thanos had snapped his fingers and wiped out half of the galaxy. It had felt wrong though, to be trying to bring life into the universe when so much loss had just occurred. In the span of the five years that everyone was gone, Y/N had been told she was infertile. She just had to grin and bear it, helping Pepper and Tony take care of Morgan whenever they asked. Steve and her just sort of gave up, not wanting to deal with all of the heartache for the rest of their lives.

It was towards the end of their ninth year of marriage, their ninth year of trying to have a baby, someone smiled down upon them. As an early Christmas gift, Steve and Y/N received a positive pregnancy test. They were incredibly cautious, doing everything to the 'T' to make sure that they child would be okay. And in August, Y/N gave birth to a beautiful baby girl- Sarah Rose Rogers, named Sarah after Steve's mother. Things were great until October, when they had to fight against Thanos one last time to make things right and Steve decided he would much rather go back in time to be with Peggy, coming back an elderly man.

He died a few months later, right after his daughter turned five months old.

"How are you doing?" Sam asks quietly, not wanting to disturb the hungry child. Y/N sighed softly, looking up. She had deep dark circles under her eyes, clearly showing that she hadn't been getting much sleep. Her cheeks didn't look as full, making Sam wonder if she wasn't eating.

"I'm surviving. It's definitely difficult, trying to balance everything." Y/N replies, her eyes glancing back down at her daughter, "It's-Everything is all new to me. Most of the time I think I'm doing everything wrong."

"When was the last time you slept?" He questions, shifting on the bar stool. Sam felt guilty. Steve had asked both him and Bucky to look after his wife and child, to make sure that they were doing okay without him. Sam hadn't. He had other things to deal with-such as trying to readjust to this new world and talking to his family-so checking on Y/N had slipped his mind. Yet as he looks at her, taking in every little detail, Sam knows that he should've been calling her more, should've talked to her more.

"I can't sleep." She answers honestly, leaving out the 'without him' that was sitting on the tip of her tongue. Y/N had been so used to sleeping next to Steve that she had found it almost impossible to sleep without him. She fights the urge to yawn as she continues, "Besides, it gives me time to take care of things around the house. There's always a ton of laundry to do and I have work -"

"Woah woah hold on, you're supposed to be on leave, Y/N." Sam announces, raising an eyebrow at her. Y/N continues to feed her daughter as she glances up at him, her lips pressed tightly together.

"I'm not going to sit here and twiddle my thumbs, Sammy. I-I need to keep myself busy." Y/N replies, her voice wavering. She withholds the words that want to follow. I don't want to think about him. Sam turns his head, his eyes landing on a box sitting in the table that sat in the kitchen. A layer had dust had gathered on top of it. It probably hasn't been touched since it had been placed on top of the table. Written across the side of the box in black ink was PICTURES + RIBBON BANNERS. Things from the funeral, he realizes, left in the box to collect dust.

"Are you going to therapy? Like we talked about?" Sam questions, his voice a lot softer, like he's talking to a child. Y/N's shoulders seemed to slump and her mood starts to sour. She looks down at her daughter, who is blissfully unaware of what's happening around her. When Sam asked if he could come over, she should have assumed that he was going to act like this but she didn't. Y/N had thought he was just coming over to visit, but then again that should've raised some alarm. Like everyone else after Steve was put in the ground, Sam had left to live his life. Y/N had to struggle with being a new mother and living without Steve all by herself. No one offered their help or checked in to see how she was doing. The only one who she talked to was Rhodey, but that's because they worked together.

"You thought about him didn't you? That's why you're here. Something reminded you of him and then you thought of me." Y/N replies, the emotions leaving her voice, "Because if you did care, you would've called or texted or something."

"Y/N-" He starts, but Y/N quickly cuts him off, pulling the now empty bottle away from her daughter's mouth. Sarah looks up at her mother, her little hands rubbing at her eyes. The baby shifted in her mother's arms, trying to get comfortable. Y/N carefully puts the bottle into the sink.

"No, no don't try to tell me that you came here on your own volition, Sam. You don't text me, you don't call, you don't try to talk to me for a few months and all of a sudden you want to drop in?" Y/N sighs, shaking her head, "I-I appreciate you coming here, I really do, but don't waltz in here suddenly concerned over me."

They stay silent for a moment. Sam knew she was right. He had kept himself busy and as the days passed by, Y/N and what she might be going through slipped from his mind. It wasn't until last week when he was asked by someone about how Y/N was doing. He knows that he should've been making sure she was okay. Y/N had been one of his closest friends before Thanos snapped his fingers. He had watched her and Steve's relationship blossom and bloom. Hell, he had been Steve's best man at their wedding. He should have been right there for Y/N, should have been her shoulder to cry on after Steve had been buried, should have helped her take care of Sarah, but he hadn't. He had decided to run away, leaving her behind, leaving her to reassemble the shattered pieces of her life by herself. Sam had gotten to move on with his life. Y/N couldn’t.

"I'm sorry. I know that should've called and made contact after the funeral. I know that I should've come by. I just..." Sam sighs, his eyes focused on her, "I didn't know what to say to you. I wanted to help, wanted to console you, but I-I just couldn't. I didn't know how to tell you that everything was going to be okay when I didn't know if it was going to be okay."

Y/N doesn't respond. Instead of looking at Sam, she casts her eyes on Sarah. The child yawns, stretching in her mother's arms. Sarah had her mother's eyes, but had her father's blonde hair. It shined softly in the light as the baby curled up against her mother. Sarah was all Y/N had left of Steve, her last reminder of how much she loved him. But as she looked at her sleepy daughter, she felt that familiar pang of heartache, the same one she would get every time she looked at Sarah because she was reminded that Steve had abandoned this sweet little baby, had abandoned Y/N to make a family with someone else, someone who probably didn't have to try for years to have a baby with him. Y/N wanted to direct all her anger towards Steve, but she had started to think about what things she might’ve done wrong, even though Y/N knew that there was nothing she could have changed to make Steve stay. He was the one who made that choice, he was the one who decided to leave, so he should be the one she was mad at, not herself.

"I-I've been doing everything I'm supposed to be doing. I go to therapy. I take my pills. I started working again so I have some sort of normalcy. I make sure Sarah is okay, I try to be the best mom I can be for her. I do everything I am supposed to do and still-I still feel bad. I feel so fucking bad all the time, Sammy." She suddenly announces, tears starting to pool in her eyes. Sam can feel his heart splinter in his chest as she continues, "I just-I don't understand why he left. He-He told me that he loved me every day and that he loved Sarah and I just....Why would he leave us?"

Sam didn't know how to respond to any of that. He didn't have an answer for her. He didn't know why Steve would leave his family. The whole situation confused him as well and left him with a bad taste in his mouth. The man who he had thought Steve was, that man wouldn't have just up and abandon his wife and infant daughter. No, that man would happy, over the fucking moon that he had a family. The Steve Sam knew wouldn't have left behind his wife and child to make a family with someone else, with someone who already lived a good life. Sam didn't understand what could have happened in those five years that would make Steve do that.

Instead of saying anything, he stood up and walked around the island. Sam carefully pulled her into his arms, making sure sweet little Sarah didn't get squished in between them. The infant looked up at him, probably wondering who the hell he was. Sam held the two of them in his arms as Y/N cried, her shoulders shaking with her sobs. Her child rested in her arms, completely unaware of what was going on.

#sam wilson x reader #sam wilson #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america x reader #chris evans x reader #anthony mackie x reader #tfatws

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tokisguitarpick · 3 years

Text

drunken skunk

Characters: Toki Wartooth x Reader

Words: 2500+ holy FUCK

A/N: hey i written in uhh 1000 years and i just binged metalocolypse on hbomax which apparently unlocked something in me. this fic takes place immediately following fertilityklok because I’ve had a weird amount of experience talking to men who want but for some reason can’t/don’t have children and watching Toki worry about it gave me feelings i just wanted someone to kiss him and tell him he was okay:( so he turned down the woman in the ep, went home and fucked, wakes up and doesn’t actually feel that much better so drinking, smoking, not being understood by his bandmates, leads to going somewhere else to drink, and that’s where we are. i also like the idea that the band members have slutted around so often that even blitz drunk, they’d still be quick and nimble in the sack

“Y/N, can you come to my office, please?” Charles’s voice came through your cell phone.

You had the phone pressed to your cheek, despite the spikes digging into your shoulder, as you pulled on a pair of socks. When you saw Charles calling you, it was almost always to request you come to his office for a task so it was second nature to get dressed when his name popped up. “Of course, sir.” His thanks were short before the line clicked off and you were left alone to finish getting ready.

_________

Scooting past a masked employees leaving Charles’s office, you stood in front of your boss and nodded when he met your eye over the documents on his desk. “Y/N, thank you for coming. We’ve got a small situation I’m hoping we can keep small.” Your brow furrowed as he picked up his phone and start swiping through it.

“What’s the matter, sir?” you asked.

Charles held up a finger, continuing to swipe until he finally clicked a button and a whaling voice suddenly filled the room.

“Whys is this happening to mes, iS AMS I UGLIES?! Ams I- Ma’am, MA’AMS, AMS I UGLI-“

The silence that followed Charles pausing the recording was deafening. “Um, was that-“

“Toki, yes,” Charles cut you off. “He’s currently at the Drunken Skunk and is living up to the name. I need you to go collect him as discreetly as possible.” As though that was all the information you needed, Charles began looking over the paperwork in front of him again.

You sighed quietly, you hated how little you got told about your tasks since they always spiraled into some kind of crazy mess when the members of Dethklok were involved, but Charles wasn’t one to question. “Yes, sir. Consider it done.”

You turned on your heel and began to head out but when your hand touched the doorknob, Charles spoke again. “Oh, and Y/N? Be careful. Toki has been sensitive since his birthday. Tread carefully.”

Brow furrowed again, you glanced back but Charles was already looking away, eyes on his documents. You wondered what he meant but as always, better not to question him. Stepping into the hallway, you let his office door swing shut behind you as you headed into the night.

___________

The Drunken Skunk was a dingy little bar on the edge of downtown whose usual crowd were streetwalkers and weary men, so it wasn’t crazy that Toki had decided to come here but as you drove closer and closer, you were surprised how dingy it in fact was. It was cheek to cheek with the industrial district, had an empty printing shop on one side, and a storefront covered in plywood on the other. You parked in front of the boarded-up shop and did a quick check on all sides for sketchy characters before you stepped out of the car.

The bar was choked with cigarette smoke, and the stench of stale alcohol and vomit. You frowned, standing in the door while you scanned the dirty room until your eyes fell on a heaving form slumped across the bar. Toki.

His long hair was draped over his shoulders and hung down his back, quivering slightly with each heave. It seemed like he was crying, his head buried in his arms. “AMS I UGLIES?” rang in your ears again and your frown softened. You weren’t sure what had happened, but you had noticed he’d been… off since his birthday.

You had thought it was related to the fake kidnapping that kicked off the party- a horrific and idiotic idea you had spoken out against and were immediately told by Nathan not to be a bitch about- but even that wouldn’t lead to the question of if he was ugly. Would it? The Dethklok members were strange. Five lives full of tragedy and unprocessed trauma all packed into the most popular band in the world made for an uneasy balance in the workplace and living quarters. You were skilled at navigating it when you had to clear up the messes, but you were hardly ever around for the inciting event so it was always tricky to understand how it all connected.

You approached cautiously and made sure to make a little noise so you wouldn’t spook him. If he heard you, he showed no reaction, so you perched on the bar stool beside him. “Hey, Toki?”

The guitarist lifted his head finally and his red rimmed eyes were bleary when they met yours. “Y/N? Whats is *hic* you doings heres?” His voice was hoarse and thick with tears, a few of which were clinging to his eyelashes and glittered in the dim light. It made his grey-blue eyes shine and your breath caught in your throat. You had to admit, Toki was your favorite member of the band and it had little to do with his musical talent. You weren’t one for metal much anyway.

What drew you to Toki was first his appearance. Back when you were just applying for a position at the record company behind Dethklok, he’d caught your eye on the poster in the lobby. Long hair on men was something of a turn-on and his piercing gaze struck a chord inside you. His angular face and extremely fit build made him one of the hottest members in your opinion but on top of all of that, he was a sweetheart. That wasn’t written on the poster, of course, it was something you’d discovered about a week after you started when he was the only person besides Charles to take the time to learn your name and point your in the right direction. You wouldn’t say you were close but you had a causal friendship, just right for making light conversation during elevator rides and not much else.

“I’m here for you, Toki,” you replied, trying to master a tone that was both soft and cheery. “I came to take you home.”

“Takes me… No! I wants to stay heres. I-I-” His bottom lip started to quiver as he spoke but you put a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, hey, relax, Toki. It’s just late and I think it’d be good for us to get you into bed,” you gave him a small smile, trying to coax his drunken mind into listening to you. He might be slim but if he tried to fight you on leaving, you’d have your hands full. Maybe you should’ve asked for an escort…

Toki slumped on the bar again with a huff before sliding off his stool towards you, prompting you to hop up quickly to catch him as he stumbled to his feet. He was heavy with alcohol and leaning on you to keep steady, so trudging to the door became a task. Despite having at least half a foot on you, his face was nestling further and further in your hair until you could feel his breath on the back of your neck.

You could feel your cheeks warming but it wasn’t until you got out the door, opened the back of the car, and loaded Toki halfway in that you really had a reason to blush.

“Y/N, ams I uglies?” Toki asked suddenly, looking up at you from under his lashes. He only had his butt on the edge of the car’s bench seat, looking at you with his face inches from yours, and fresh tears welling in his eyes.

Your eyes widened and your blush raged in full. Working around the object of your affection, even when that work was dragging him out of a shitty bar, was easy enough. Being asked directly about it by him was a whole other thing. Swallowing against the sudden knot in your throat, you decided to be honest and lightly shook your head. “No, Toki, not at-“

Anything and everything else you might be about to say was thrown out the window because the moment you said no, Toki launched forward. One hand on your hip, he lifted the other to your shoulder and pulled you to him lightening fast, his mouth finding yours with a squish. In his drunken state, he was a little sloppy at first but his skill began to show itself. His tongue traced the dip between your lips as he pulled you against his chest, your head fogging when he nipped your bottom lip. It was finally enough to coax your mouth open and Toki took full advantage of that fact, squeezing your hip as his other hand, warm and calloused, slipped around your neck and held you to him. Electricity jumped through you when his tongue met yours, twirling together for a moment before he moved on to exploring your mouth with a greedy moan.

“Wa-wait,” you mumbled around his lips. This was moving too fast, or maybe the fact it was happening at all was what was making you feel overwhelmed in the moment. It took everything in you to pull away, a solid percentage of your mind screaming at you to continue, to let Toki think he had control of the situation and see how far you could get with him. But you couldn’t. He was drunk and clearly something was bothering him enough to drink in the first place. You needed to just get him home. Plus if you did anything with Toki, you’d like for him to remember it, too. “Toki, wait.”

Your eyes met his just in time to watch his face crumple. The only way to describe his expression was pure heartbreak. The disappearance of his hands on your body made you miss the weight of them instantly but you hardly noticed, watching him melt right in front of you.

“I ams uglies, I knews it! I knews it!” Desperate and broken, his voice turned your stomach. His shaky hands found his hair and he began tugging on the ends, seemingly unaware of the motion. “No ones will loves me, I’ms hideous, I wills never find love! I wills never finds the mother ofs my childrens!”

While you had been paralyzed with bewilderment, his last sentence only compounded your confusion but brought you back into the moment enough to move again. Toki had cringed away from you, burying his face in the back of the passenger seat while still tugging on his hair, and you hurriedly heaved his long legs into the footwell before shutting the door and jogging around to the other side.

Even sealed in the car, you could hear his drunken crying. It twisted your heart but still, the mother of his children? Is that what he thought of you? Your blush burned your cheeks once more but you shook the thought off. He must’ve been crying about this when he left that voicemail for Charles. But what had happened?

Opening the back door on the other side, you slipped inside and snapped the door closed behind you. Toki seemed worse than before, now holding his face in his hands and heaving with small sobs. “Whats is it, Y/N? Whats makes me so uglies? I can change! I has monies, I can change!”

You furrowed your brows and put a hand on his arm, scooting closer to him. “Toki, you’re not ugly.” Quicker than you expected, his head snapped towards you.

“Then whys do you not likes to kiss me?” His lip started to quiver and you expected another outburst but his eyes stayed locked on you, expecting an answer.

Your mouth was dry and you scrambled for an answer that would keep him from crying again. How had you ended up here? Eyes darting around the car, you quickly mumbled, “I do, I liked the kiss! I jus-“

Once again, the Dethklok guitarist moved faster than you thought in his state. His hands found your face and pulled you up to him, putting you nose to nose with the lanky musician. His eyes were bloodshot and rimmed red from tears but it only exacerbated how bright his stormy irises were. You felt nervous and excited and tingly all over from being held so close and you hardly dared to breathe. Hypnotized by his gaze, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. “Thens kiss me,” he murmured in a throaty voice. It made you shiver and lust began to haze your thoughts, the previous kiss still so fresh in your mind when his lips found yours again.

Slowly this time- painfully, delightfully slowly- Toki kissed you. His hands nearly covered the sides of your head as he held you in place, his lips closed while he kissed you once, twice, three times before deepening it. You let him without hesitation, heat coiling in your stomach. Of course, the thought of breaking the kiss occurred to you but with every motion of his, that thought got further and further away. Toki’s tongue slipped past your lips again and he gently stroked over yours as he made his way around your mouth. You returned the kiss with fervor, trying to match his speed to keep him close as long as possible.

One hand on top of his over your cheek, you let your other wander. His knee pressing into your thigh, then up the outside of his leg to rest on his hip and give it a squeeze. He moaned in your mouth and your body responded in kind, your own moan escaping as the heat in your belly moved south. When his free hand fisted in your hair and tugged, you wondered if maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Toki didn’t remember your hookup. Hell, maybe it would keep things from getting awkward at work?

Skwisgaar’s best guitar solo blared through the vehicle, interrupting your mental plan to get the man in front of you undressed. It was your phone, ringing out from your back pocket, and you knew without looking that it was Charles. He tended to check status on the jobs he gave people, especially when they went alone, as the Dethklok members seemed to have a way of making mountains out of molehills and then exploding the mountain into a bunch of fiery chunks raining from the sky.

Toki hadn’t stopped kissing you. If anything, he seemed more desperate, his hands falling to your shoulders and tugging at your shirt. But you straightened up and caught his large wrists to still him. Pulling away, your lips tingled and you had to blink a few times to gather yourself. “I have to get that, hang on.” Your voice was hoarse and you cleared it twice as you pulled the phone from your pocket and selected ‘Answer’. Toki huffed but he seemed much more relaxed compared to the last interruption, leaning back against the seat and putting his large hand on your thigh with his eyes closed.

“Hello?” you asked, still trying to steady your voice.

“Y/N, any updates?” Charles bluntly asked back.

You cleared your throat again and replied, “Everything’s going well, I just got Toki in the car,” the guitarist squeezed your leg at the sound of his name, “and we’re about to head back home.” The thought of leaving the back seat, of having to drive with the fruity taste of whatever he’d been drinking still on your tongue and the memory of his hands on you front and center in your mind, nearly made you groan aloud but you held yourself back.

“Good, good. Knew you could handle it.” *click*

Just like that, Charles had broken the heady mood and hung up in under a minute. You sighed, knowing what the right thing to do was and knowing exactly what you wanted to do instead. As if reading your thoughts, Toki spoke, “Wes don’t has to leaves yet, does we?”

“We does,” you replied playfully, trying to convince yourself of that fact. It wasn’t often that you wished for another job, one where you could be a groupie, act a little slutty, and turn one of your daydreams into a reality. But this was one of those times. However, people got fired- or killed- at work for less and you wouldn’t have even gotten into Dethklok if it weren’t for your job.

Toki sighed, squeezing your thigh again and holding it for a moment. Glancing at him, you’re eyes scanned his face thoroughly. His eyes were closed and his head was tilted back on the headrest, giving you an eyeful of his neck and throat. He had the slightest stubble growing and as you watched, he gulped, making his Adam’s apple bounce. You wanted to remember this moment, every detail, as though that would make it last longer. While you were looking, he opened his eyes and caught yours.

“But you liked to kissing mes?” he asked, his voice more nervous than you’d heard all night. “You thinks I’ms is handsome?”

You hesitated before concluding the cat was fully out of the bag on this one and nodded. “I liked kissing you and I think you’re handsome, Toki. If you asked, I might even say you’re hot as fuck.”

Toki beamed at you, nudging you with his knee. He seemed too tired to move as fast as he was in the heat of the moment but he reached to put his hand on your hip and squeezed. “Okies, you cans drives us home. We is goings to my room,” you blushed but he continued without notice, “we cans talk, I ams asking you questions, it is ams dates.”

#metalocalypse #toki wartooth x reader #so i'm open for writing more but if it's for other characters give me detailed prompts because.....#i may have only really paid attention to toki and nathan #but i wanna rewatch it to get more details anyways so yeah i hope you enjoy #also if you read this and know the right tags to put other fics in let me know!!

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allandoflimbo · 3 years

Text

Ashens (Part 19)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 3,000

Chapter Warning: Smut.

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy and angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

Full Masterpage |

You were woken up to the violent sound of vomiting.

Opening your eyes, you noticed the bedroom was still pitch black, so it must’ve been very late. Drowsily, you sat halfway up and looked over to see that Bucky wasn’t next to you.

You cringed as the soft glow from the A.I hit your irises.

The vomiting started again, followed by retching. Always being an emetophobic, you tried to ignore it, swallowing down thickly. You didn’t want it to affect you.

You stayed that way, sitting up and waiting for him to come back inside so you could ask him if he was okay.

After some time, You laid back down, and stared up at the ceiling. You grew concerned as long seconds turned to minutes.

He was taking too long for your liking.

Having made up your mind, you tossed the comforter aside and made your way to the end of the bed.

You hesitated for a moment before standing up. Your eyes quickly darted over to a pillow that was in the foyer, wondering how the hell it got there. Quietly, you made your way down the hallway until you saw the bathroom door ajar. The lights were on.

You stopped next to it before looking inside.

“Bucky?” You called out. Your voice was timid and soft.

No answer.

You began to hear crying.

Your heart tore in half at the sound. It was loud, but it was heavy. You could tell that he was trying to contain it as much as he could.

You grew even more concern, this time knocking softly on the door before pushing it open.

There he was, half hunched over the toilet, his other half falling towards the floor turned away from you. His metal hand gripped the side of the toilet while his right hand pulled at his hair.

You watched as he shook, sobs racking his body.

You didn’t want to seem annoying but you found yourself feeling scared.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t say anything.

Blindly, he reached for the lid and closed the toilet. Then he crawled over to the wall directly in front of him, right next to the shower, and fell up against it.

He grabbed at his hair with both hands. You watched as his knuckles turned white.

He let out a groan as he started to shaking his head back and forth, sniffing hard. He ran his hands down his face before letting them fall at his sides.

The look on his face was heartbreaking.

He looked like he was suffering some kind of pain that you couldn’t physically see. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, tilting his head up towards the ceiling.

You know that it wasn’t something he ate. That’s not why he was sick. He was going through something emotionally. This was mental turmoil.

You didn’t realize how true your words rang about him needing to get help until now.

“Nightmare,” he says so quietly and out of breath that you wouldn’t have caught them if you weren’t staring at his lips, “nightmare.” He repeats again, almost defeated.

He looked disappointed in himself.

Bucky isn’t sure if he dozed off but when he opens his eyes again, you’re knelt down in front of him with a glass of water.

He looks at the glass and back up at you. You looks so scared.

He takes the glass and downs it in a few seconds, scorched.

He hands you back the glass.

“Thank you.” His voice is hoarse.

You put the glass on the floor and he watches your movements, still in a heavy daze.

When his eyes meet yours again he can see the worry in your eyes.

“You’re sweating so much.” You grab a towel from one of the cabinets and hand it to him. He takes it from you but just holds onto it, letting his eyes close again, “You don’t have to tell me what it was about, but I’m glad you’re awake. You’re here now.” You say.

He physically cringes at the end of your sentence and you notice.

You take the towel from him, seeing he wasn’t even using it, and your roll it up. You bring it gently to his forehead to wipe away his perspiration. He shivers at your touch. He watches you intently. You look so innocent and sweet on your knees like that, and the memory of how he’s treated you in bed eats away at him. Not only was it a distraction, but you weren’t a piece of meat. He doesn’t understand how you still care after all he’s done to you.

You continue to wipe down the sides of his face, and eventually, underneath his eyes where the tears have now dried.

You were beautiful.

“It was a memory.” He says as you finally pull away from him.

You do a double take. You didn’t expect him to tell you this.

“I was,” he looks away from you, “it was nineteen fourth five. I was in Germany.”

He looks at you hesitantly and you give him a short nod, raising the towel back to his forehead. “Hydra—Hydra had me go to a base, just outside of Buchenwald. эти проклятые ублюдки.” He mumbles is disgust, sniffing, “There was a concentration camp nearby,” you watched as his flesh hand shook violently at his side, “It wasn’t instructed for me to be there. But we took the drive by, and I —“ his voice broke and he closed his eyes again, “I remember the smell, the smell of death, and I remember the bodies. I

remember children watching, this one young boy, and I did nothing.”

He was surprised when you took his metal hand in his.

“Bucky…”

“I don’t understand how I couldn’t control myself, my body, how I could let it happen, how I couldn’t save him. It was like deep down somewhere I knew it was wrong what I saw but I couldn’t —”

“You need to stop blaming yourself for something that is not your fault.”

“I was a Nazi.” He spats like the words are venom.

“You were not a Nazi. They took advantage of you and you know that. Even if you did what you did, you weren’t aware of it. Those monsters did that. Not you.” Your grip on his hand was tight and he could feel it, “you were a young boy that they —“”

“I should’ve been stronger. I should’ve fought against them harder.”

“It was against your control.” He’s stunned at your conviction and he watches you curiously. You tilt your head at him, “But look at you now. Look where we are. You’re here to save the world. Everyone outside of The Capitol is counting on you, wether they know it or not. And that is something that it is you that is doing. This is who you are.”

Bucky closes his eyes together and another grimace fills his features. You feared he would start crying again.

“Have you—have you ever spoken to someone before?” You ask gently, “Bucky?” You repeat when he doesn’t answer.

“I did. I had a therapist, but it didn’t go well. I eventually just started to going to Sam,” you nod. You feel him grab your flesh hand, and he runs his thumb over the top of it. The act startles you, “but you don’t understand. I’m not just a veteran with PTSD. I’m different.”

His touch was hot against you.

“And I get that,” your voice shook slightly, “but you can’t stop trying.”

He tilts your head at you this time.

“Trying for what? I’ve tried what I can and I still feel empty. It’s not that I’m unhappy, I’m just, I don’t know.”

“You have suicidal thoughts.”

The silence that follows your comment is palpable.

“My time has come and gone,” his voice is filled with emotion and you feel your own eyes fill with tears, “I am glad I am doing this. I’m glad I’m here on this mission. But after this?” His eyes are filled with tears and you can tell he’s clawing at anything at this point, “give me something to live for.”

You slowly let go of his hand to wipe under your own eye. His words hurt you deeply. He was in so much pain you could feel it yourself.

Maybe you were an empath or maybe it just hit too close to home for you.

“I was bullied my entire life,” you started slowly, watching as his eyebrows came together, listening intently to you, “People made fun of me because I was always different. I didn’t hang with the cool crowd or the regular crowd. People always assumed things about me because of my parents. They always thought that just because mom and dad thought a certain way or had money, that I was taking advantage of them or I also thought like them. Nobody in my life ever took the time to get to know me just for me, and I was a girl that always cared about everyone, regardless of that.” His hand tightened around yours, “It didn’t matter when they dropped Mac and cheese down the front of my favorite sweater or when they would make me drop my books in the hallway and then laugh, because I knew they would grow up one day, and I knew the things that thought about me wasn’t true anyway,” Bucky’s heart began to fall as tears filled your eyes and your voice began to waver, “but I was still human.” Your voice broke. You cry quietly. You run the back of your hand under your nose, looking away from him, “so of course I still got sad. I got depressed. I used to eat lunch by myself in a dark classroom everyday. How could something like that not affect a person? At one point I also thought to myself, is this how I’ll be forever? Alone? Hated for no reason? Will no one care? Why am I here?”

The amount of guilt that consumed Bucky was intense.

A month ago he had selfishly vowed to not get to know you because he was afraid of getting too attached to his mission partner. Now he’s cursing himself for unbeknownst doing something that was your ultimate weakness and your greatest pain. Because of it, he had underestimated everything about you. You were already beautiful to him, but knowing your heart was just as pretty made him feel other things for you. Things he hadn’t felt in close to a century. It terrifies him.

The last time he felt this way about another woman, because of him, she was killed. He couldn’t handle that again, the risk or the pain.

“I’m sorry .”

“But I still stayed strong, because someone did end up giving me a chance.” His eyes meets yours, “Will.” You breathe his name, “And he got taken from me. You know what that taught me? That it might seem bad right now and like the future is impossible, but life is full of great surprises, too.”

Bucky watches as you grab the cup, getting off the floor. His heart is still swelling.

“About what I said yesterday,” you stop at the sound of his voice, “I was out of line to blame you for what happened between us. It was my idea, and I took it out on you because I was scared we ruined the mission. I wasn’t in the best mood. I take blame.”

You look down at the floor, somehow still feeling hollow inside.

“Thank you.”

“I—” he cuts himself short and clears his throat. You turn around to look at him. He wasn’t on the floor anymore. He was standing and he looked a bit shy, “Look, what I said before about us not doing anything ever again…” his voice runs off as he swallows down and looks down shamefully at your feet.

He felt disgusting. He felt insanely attracted to you and you didn’t even know it. It wasn’t that he wanted to keep using you, he wished he could give a part of his heart to you and if this was a different life, maybe you two could work out.

He feels disgusted with himself. You deserved so much better than him.

“You know what, it’s okay. Forget I was going to say anything.” He whispers, clearing his throat after. You watched as he walked over to the cabinet to grab a larger towel.

You don’t how what it was. Maybe you’re growing up. Maybe you’re changing, but you walk over to him and grab his arm.

He looks over at you surprised.

“It’d be different this time.” You say, eyes darting over his nose, lips, and neck, “before there was hostility and pent up energy. We’re friends now, right?” You searched his eyes.

He squints at you.

“I guess we are.”

You nod.

“Friends with benefits?”

“Friends who occasionally just have sex?” He asks.

“We’ll make rules. No physical gestures that can have a double meaning, no intense eye contact, just something to get our edge off.”

“No kissing, anywhere.” He says, “And only at night. During the day, we act like it doesn’t even happen. We can’t allow distractions.” “And when the mission is over—”

“We go our separate ways.” He finishes.

You continue to stare at each other for a few more seconds before you give him a nod. He watches you as you walk away.

He’d always watch you as you walked away.

+ + +

“This show is the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen. You like this?” Bucky asked with a mouth half full of sushi, pointing his chopsticks at the screen, comically.

You smirked as you took a sip of your water.

“This show is a classic. You just don’t get it because you’re old.”

“I’m not that old.”

You snickered.

“You old old man.”

“Shut up.” He says, “it’s not even from this century, right? What year did you say this came out?”

“Nineteen ninety four.” You grumbled, looking for another California roll in your plastic tray, “It the epitome of nineties and early two thousands era. It takes everyone back to a good time, before everyone used to just text each other.” You shrug, “it makes me happy.” You look over at him to see his eyes glued to the screen and a smile playing on his lips despite his verbal hate towards the show, “you don’t even have one character you like?”

He shrugs.

“Chandelier is funny.”

“Chandelier?” You laugh out loud, placing your tray on the coffee table as you do so. Bucky watches you, captivated by your laughter, “you mean Chandler?”

“Sure.”

You continue to glare at him, giving him a small smirk.

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

“I won’t tell you.” He says shoving another sushi in his mouth.

You continued to stare at him, intrigued. Was this the real Bucky Barnes finally showing his true colors?

Ever since your talk in the bathroom last week, things between the both of you got better. Despite the blow out fight you had in the kitchen the other day, you really were friends. Friends in the most messed up sense of the word.

After your talk, you both had agreed to becoming friends with benefits, but you had yet to consummate the agreement.

The mission had kept you both very busy, between you trying to avoid Silas at work and keeping your eyes for any other possible intel, to Bucky staking out his nights at the tower trying to find new information on Ashen, including where he lived.

Tonight was the first real night where you both felt relaxed for the first time in a very long time. Maybe too relaxed.

You heard Bucky snicker as a scene unfolded on TV -and you tried to contain your smile.

He liked it. Bucky liked Friends.

You watched from the corner of your eye as he leaned forward and put his own tray on the table.

“Does this remind you of your childhood?” He asks you.

“Kind of. I was very little when it ended but I remember that time period, yes. The world was different.”

“Tell me about it?” He asks you.

You perk a brow at him.

“Sure, but only after Ross accidentally says Rachel at the alter.”

“What?”

+ + +

“Could you stay on your side and with your fair share? You keep hogging up the blankets and the bed, Y/N.”

“I’m trying to make a cocoon because last time you snatched all the blankets in the middle of the night while I was asleep and I had to sleep shivering in fetal position.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

“Not.”

You both calmed down until you started moving your legs around, trying to find a comfortable position.

You stopped, and then started again, tossing and turning.

“Oh my god, if you don’t stop I’ll cut off your legs.”

“Do it I dare you.”

“God.”

“It’s not my fault it’s somehow freezing and super hot at the same time.”

Thankful, he thought you had finally found a comfortable spot because you stopped. He was wrong because you started moving.

Fed up with you, he quickly turned around and grabbed your leg.

“Stop.” You stretched down to push his hand off of you when he grabbed your hand and quickly held it up against the pillow next to your head. He did the same with your other and caged you under him with his legs.

You were breathless as you stared up at him. Finding the proximity intoxicating.

He was panting against you as he stared down at your face.

He watched enthralled as you whispered the undeniable words:

“Fuck me.”

+ + +

His boxers had been flung somewhere across the room and he had your legs right around his waist.

He followed your rules. No excessive gestures and no eye contact.

He hated it. He absolutely hated not being able to cup your face as he stared down at your nose, his cock thrusting into your at a languid pace. Slow and torturous.

Instead, his hand grabbed at the pillow beneath your head.

Bucky moaned as he felt you squeeze around him.

“God, you know just how to do it to me.” He mumbles, licking his lips.

“Faster.” You whine, tightening your legs around him.

His thrusts pick up speed as he continues to fuck you for several minutes. Eventually he switches to hold onto the head board.

His right hand leaves it to hold onto your waist and his eyes goes to where his dick is fucking you.

You were so perfect for him. If this were another lifetime, he knows he could be good for you. He knows this could’ve have had a different ending. You were so good.

When his orgasm hits him, he flicks your clit with his thumb and he unravels with you. You both cum together.

When he goes to bed later than night after slipping out of you and throwing away the condom, you don’t feel used like you used to. At least you don’t think you do.

But you still wished you didn’t love him anymore. You wished he felt the same, and you wished you had the strength to stop torturing yourself.

As you looked out into the city with your bare back facing his front, you reminded yourself that Bucky Barnes would never love you.

This would always be just sex. And when it came to your friendship, it had no future. You were to both go separate ways at the end of this mission.

@snakeeatery17 @utterlyhopeful-fics , @marvelfan1017, @iheartsebastianstan , @annathesillyfriend , @redhairedfeistynerd, @perksofbeingabookworm, @amyrose051, @meegggoooo, @morganclaire4 , @captainchrisstan, @bxndys , @shoesonpointe , @writerwrites, @rainbowkisses31, @lindatreb , @littlemissner98 , @dezzylou24, @ayeitslelee , @hardygal69 , @emmabarnes , @redbarn1995@thequeenreaders@ilovemysupersoldiers@maximumplaidzonknerd@ceapa-mica @s-trawberryv-eins@buckysknifecollections@sobangie@lindatreb@theseuscmander @nervous-plant @wildmoonflower @aya-fay@appreciating-fanfics @kaitlynisinfinite@justreadingfics@kaitieskidmore1 @mrsdancing

#Bucky x Reader #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky x you #Bucky Barnes smut #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #ashens #winter soldier fanfic #the falcon and the winter soldier fanfic #Bucky Barnes imagines #bucky x y/n

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quickspinner · 3 years

Text

Oops - Part 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3

(See part 1 for summary and warnings)

Marinette was having a hard time keeping her mind on girls’ night. Rose and Juleka had just signed a new lease to move in together in the coming month, and it should have been exciting, but somehow she just couldn’t get into the discussions about decor and whose couch they should keep and how many dishes they really needed.

Marinette had other things on her mind.

Her phone buzzed in her hand and she glanced at the others quickly before turning it over.

Sorry, babe, I’ve got a gig that day. Wish I could.

Marinette bit her lip, trying not to be upset. She started to type a reply, when another set of messages came in.

You could come if you want We could go home together after Just go easy on the drinks this time ;)

Marinette giggled, but sent back You sure? I won’t be in the way?

I’d want you there even if you were. You’re small, we can stick you in an instrument case if we need to

Marinette laughed aloud at that.

Should I dress up? she typed.

Anything you wear looks good on my floor. Do what makes you happy

Marinette pressed her legs together, bouncing her knees, and then sent, before she could rethink it, Doing you makes me happy.

There was a long pause before his next message, and then it was just an address and a time, followed by Can’t wait to see you Friday . And Saturday morning. Don’t make lunch plans.

Marinette gave a little squeal, hiding her face in her hands.

All of the girls were looking at her with varying expressions. Juleka and Alix looked amused, Rose excited, and Mylène just looked happy for her.

Alya was looking at her with a slow spreading grin. “Well weeeeell,” she drawled, leaning on the counter between them. “Let me guess. Setting up your next booty call with your new boytoy?”

There was enough truth in that to make Marinette blush deeply. Alya cackled.

“Details, girl,” she said, slapping the counter. “You’ve been doing this guy for weeks now, what’s the story? He must be good to still put that dopey look on your face after all this time.”

“What—n-no!” Marinette spluttered, looking at the rest of the girls. Juleka was rolling her eyes while Rose and Mylène covered giggles. Alix had that same amused expression as she shook her head slightly. “I’m not gonna talk about that,” Marinette insisted. “It’s none of your business!”

“Come on, Mari, spill,” Alya said, leaning forward again. “It can’t be that embarrassing. Does he fuck you up against a wall with all your clothes on and call you a naughty girl?”

Marinette choked, and Alya laughed.

“Oh, Marinette, you’re such an innocent,” she chortled, sitting back with a smirk like she had gained some kind of victory.

Marinette’s face burned with both shame and...anger. How dare Alya dismiss her just like that? Like they were still silly teenagers and Marinette couldn’t even talk to a guy, let alone take him home and—suddenly she realized she was tired of Alya’s patronizing, and on top of that, she felt insulted on Luka’s behalf. Taking a breath, Marinette straightened her shoulders and put on the best air of nonchalance she could manage despite her red face. “He probably would, if I asked him to,” she said airily. “But he really likes to take his time for that part.” Summoning up every ounce of the boldness Luka inspired in her, she blurted, “If he wants to make me come fast and hard, he uses his hands.”

The entire room went silent as they all stared at her. Pretending like she didn’t feel like she was going to throw up from nerves and embarrassment any second, Marinette added dreamily, “He has amazing hands.”

Alya raised her eyebrows, clearly amused and at least half disbelieving. “Not his tongue?”

“He’s a great kisser,” Marinette smiled, deliberately misunderstanding. Alya grinned wolfishly.

“No, girl, I mean when he e—“

“Oh, he’s great with his mouth on me too,” Marinette interrupted, eyes widening innocently. “It’s just, when he uses his hands, he can still use his voice. Mm, he has such a sexy voice.” The shudder that went through her was entirely real. “It makes me so…” she couldn’t quite bring herself to say it, and took a sip of her wine instead.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I can’t believe that you like this guy dirty-talking you,” Alya accused, narrowing her eyes as she set her cup down with a slam. “Little miss sweetness and light. You can’t even handle it when we talk about fucking.”

Marinette shrugged as if she was completely indifferent to what Alya believed. “You don’t say it like he does,” she commented, and took another sip of her drink, staring off into the distance as if she’d completely forgotten Alya was there. She was stretching the truth a bit, she knew. It wasn’t dirty talk, not really, not the way Alya was thinking. Luka didn’t have to be filthy to work her up; he could recite phone listings in that hot, growling voice, and it would be enough to put her over the edge, so when he told her she was beautiful, that he loved the way she smelled or tasted or felt or sounded, or asked what she wanted, or suggested something he wanted her to do for him, or panted out how close he was…

She shivered again.

Alya didn’t need to know that though. Marinette flicked her eyes around the others, a little nervous about their reactions. Mylène was smiling, Juleka was smirking, and Rose had her hands clasped together and was practically vibrating with excitement. Alix was snickering behind her hand.

“Aw, did Marinette just shatter all your illusions, Alya?” Alix laughed. “You just can’t handle that your oh-so-innocent bestie has a hot side piece.”

Marinette frowned. “Can you have a side piece if you don’t have a...a main piece?”

Alix patted her shoulder. “You can be your own main piece.”

“Marinette,” Alya said, putting her drink down, suddenly serious. “This isn’t like you. Just who is this guy, anyway? Does he even have a day job?”

“Yes,” Marinette frowned. “He’s a teacher.” It wasn’t a lie; Luka did teach private music lessons in addition to his performance work, but with Alya giving her that judgemental look, Marinette didn’t intend to give her any details.

“Ooh, hot for teacher, nice.” Alix reached over and, though feeling a little foolish, Marinette met her high five, but Alya looked unconvinced.

“Well, just be careful,” Alya cautioned her. “You’re still on the rebound—” Am I? Marinette found herself wondering. It didn’t feel like it, actually, when she thought about it. “—and I know you’re feeling pretty vulnerable right now and I don’t want this guy taking advantage of you. If you wanna have fun with him, whatever, but be careful what you tell him and don’t loan him any money.” She sighed. “And especially, don’t fall in love with him. He’s a good time, and that’s it, and he’ll only break your heart if you start wanting more.”

Marinette just stared at her, mouth hanging open slightly, as Alya turned away. There was a tense moment and then Rose piped up, “All right, are we ready for the movie? Let’s get started!” The girls all murmured agreement and began moving toward the living room.

Marinette put her drink down,

“Hey,” Alix said, leaning over her shoulder. “Alya’s just trying to look out for you. She didn’t mean it how it sounded, you know that. If you say this guy is cool, I believe you, but it never hurts to watch out for yourself, right?”

“Y-yeah,” Marinette managed a weak smile. “I get it. Sure.”

***

Marinette was having a shit day. One of her underlings had screwed up at work, which meant, to the bosses, that Marinette screwed up, and then she had to smile and take in the teeth from her bosses while soothing her horrified intern and trying to deal with the problems he’d caused. She’d complained about it to Alya when she got home, and stupidly, she’d mentioned that knowing she had a date with Luka tonight was the only thing that got her through the day. That earned her another well-intentioned condescending talking-to about being careful and not getting invested in something that was clearly only temporary. “I know you, Marinette,” Alya insisted. “He’ll say something sweet just trying to get you naked and you’ll get infatuated and start planning your whole future while the whole time he’s got one foot out the door.” Nino, who’d showed up to pick up Alya in the middle of it, had grudgingly sided with Alya over the whole thing.

“It’s not really like you, Nette,” Nino said with an uncomfortable shrug. “I mean, I don’t want to be all judgy and weird. I just…well, you’ve...” He’d trailed off and hustled Alya out the door when he saw tears in Marinette’s eyes, leaving her at least with the dignity of breaking down in private.

She flopped over the arm of the couch and sobbed until her phone beeped a reminder at her. Luka , she thought, touching her swollen face. She couldn’t go out like this. Honestly, she wasn’t sure she wanted to anymore. She just wanted to crawl into bed and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

But she had this date, and…

Alya’s words flooded back and fresh tears fell down her face. Maybe Luka wouldn’t care if she canceled. Maybe…maybe she shouldn’t be feeling so sick about that thought. Maybe Alya was right and she was on the road to another heartbreak. Luka had never said anything, after that first day, about wanting anything more. They weren’t always having sex when they were together, they did other things, but they did always end up in bed eventually. But that didn’t mean anything! Right? Maybe—Marinette sighed. Maybe she didn’t need anything else to spiral about tonight, thanks so much, Alya. Why wasn’t she allowed to just have fun without Alya telling her what was best for her? She enjoyed spending time with Luka, and yeah, he made it clear he enjoyed all the... intimate things they did, but that didn’t mean—

Focus , she reminded herself, wiping her eyes again. She still had a date tonight that she was in no condition to go to, and if she didn’t call soon Luka would already be on his way to meet her.

She took a couple of deep breaths to steady herself and called him.

“Hey, beautiful, what’s up?” Luka asked, his smooth voice light and cheerful.

“Hi,” Marinette squeaked, and then gulped down a sob. Shit, she should have texted, she sounded awful.

Luka’s tone shifted immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“N-nothing major, I just...I had a really bad day and...I don’t think I’m up for our date tonight. I’m so sorry, I know it’s really last minute, I hope you haven’t left yet, I just—” She caught a tear on her hand and wiped it away, trying not to sniffle into the phone.

“Of course it’s okay,” Luka said, his voice low and soft. “Don’t force yourself, it’s fine. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Marinette choked, her throat tightening again.

“Okay. Well, how about if I grab some takeout and bring you dinner? I can pick up something for your roommate too if you like.”

“Oh, you don’t—you don’t have to do that. Alya’s out with her boyfriend, I’m not sure she’s even coming back tonight. I mean, you don’t have to pick up anything at all, I can just scrounge something, I'll be fine, I think we have some...some ramen or something I can make…I’m not very hungry right now anyway.” Ugh, she was a babbling idiot, why hadn’t she just texted him.

“Late lunch?”

“No…” Marinette frowned, trying to think. “I don’t think I ate lunch.”

“Thought so,” Luka chuckled.

“B-but—I—“

“I don’t have to stay if you’d rather be alone,” Luka told her, his voice so full of sympathy that she wanted to cry all over again. “But at least let me bring you something to eat. It’s not like I had other plans. What’s your favorite food to cry into?” His tone turned teasing. “I can at least bring you some real ramen instead of the instant stuff, if that’s really what you want.”

Marinette bit her lip, picturing for a moment the congee she used to get at the shop by her old office. She loved it, because it reminded her of her mother’s, but she hadn’t had in in ages because they didn’t deliver to this part of town, and—

“Anything you want,” Luka told her softly. “Come on, what are you thinking about?”

“It’s out of your way,” Marinette said, shifting on her couch. “I...give me just a second, I’ll think of something, um…”

“Marinette,” Luka said, a touch of amusement in his voice. “Just tell me what you want. I’m all over this town for gigs all the time, a few extra subway stops won’t kill me.”

She told him, and gave him directions.

“Okay. I’ll go pick it up and be there as soon as I can. You take a nice long bath or a shower, or at least wash your face, okay? Get comfortable for a night in.”

Marinette smiled a little at his prescription, and whispered, “Okay.” She sat there a few minutes longer after they hung up, trying to gather enough caring to get up and do as he suggested. Finally she made it up off the couch, and drifted into the bathroom.

She cried more in the shower, but she did feel better after standing in the hot water, which at least relieved some of the stiffness and stinging of her face and eyes, and helped her breathe easier. She sat on her bed wrapped in her towel for a long moment, feeling limp and languid, but if she was sitting here naked when Luka showed up, he’d probably think she wanted some other kind of comforting, and she just wasn’t sure she felt like it tonight. She dug out one of her more modest nightgowns, made of thin, soft fabric that fell to her calves, with wide straps and a shallow scoop neck that covered most of her chest. It was still pretty, because Marinette liked pretty things, but it wasn’t seductive or anything like that.

Not that she was in any condition to seduce anybody, she thought, as she pressed her fingers below her aching eyes. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to let Luka come over. Would it hurt his feelings if she made him leave the food at the door?

Marinette had almost decided to do just that when she heard him knock. She paused with her hand on the doorknob, and then sighed. Well, if her puffy, blotchy face and stuffed up nose grossed him out and he didn’t want to see her anymore, then at least that would be one less thing for Alya to bitch at her about, she thought as she opened the door.

Luka’s expression shifted from concern to sympathy as soon as she came into view. “Aw, come here,” he said, reaching for her as he stepped inside. Marinette let him wrap his arm around her and leaned into him as he squeezed her. He kept her under his arm as he walked to the table, where he put the bag of food down and then turned to embrace her fully, folding her in a tight hug, as he swayed slightly and rubbed her back. It felt amazing, actually, and Marinette pressed her face into his chest, inhaling his scent and enjoying the firm feel of him, warm and solid.

“You want to eat at the table or somewhere else?” he asked.

“Couch?” she mumbled into his chest, and he steered her over to it.

“Sit down then, and I’ll get it all ready.”

He brought her the bowl a few minutes later, sitting down next to her as he made sure she had a grip on it before he let go. “Do you want me to go?” he asked, tucking a damp lock of hair back from her face. “Or would you rather have some company? I won’t be offended, if you’d rather be alone.”

Marinette looked up at him and opened her mouth, and then changed her mind, looking down with a blush. “Actually some company sounds nice,” she mumbled.

Luka smiled, and leaned forward to kiss her temple gently. “Let me grab my food then.”

When he returned with his plate, he sat next to Marinette and put his arm around her shoulders. Marinette cuddled against his side, tucking her feet under herself. She admired the ease with which Luka balanced his plate on his knee as he ate, but then from some of the stories he’d told her she supposed he was probably used to eating in weird places

The congee felt good on her raw throat, and she ate almost the whole bowl before she sighed and set it on the coffee table to snuggle more firmly against Luka’s side. He’d already finished, and he put both arms around her. She told him a little bit about her day, leaving out the details of the argument with Alya, and Luka made sympathetic noises and kissed her forehead.

Alya’s wrong about him , Marinette thought, tucking her face against his neck. He’d never treat anyone the way she thinks, even if it was only physical. He’s too sweet. And I don’t...I don’t think that’s what this is. I think...maybe he really meant what he said at the cafe. Maybe he still does. She took a shaky breath, and Luka’s face turned a little closer to hers, so she knew he was listening.

Marinette chickened out. “Could we...maybe get in bed and watch a movie?”

“Sure, I’d love that.” Luka smiled. “What’s your favorite thing to watch when you feel crappy?”

Marinette blushed. “You’ll laugh.”

Luka grinned. “So what if I do? If you like it, that’s all that matters. Be selfish tonight, Marinette.”

Luka followed her to her bedroom, and his eyebrows shot up when she produced a dusty old DVD with a picture of a bus on it. “Speed?” he said, sitting on the bed, and then bit his lip. He held up a finger, turned away from Marinette, and buried his face in her pillow as he laughed. Marinette grabbed her other pillow and whacked him with it.

“I told you you’d laugh,” she pouted as Luka pushed himself up and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “I love Keanu Reeves.”

“Give it here, and get comfy,” he told her, getting up. Marinette gave him the movie, and he put it in as she tossed the blanket back to the bottom of the bed and got under the sheet. Then she had an internal panic attack as Luka kicked off his shoes and socks and shimmied off his jeans. Oh, maybe she should have—but he’d never have been comfortable if she made him stay dressed, and it didn’t mean they were going to…Stupid, they could have stayed on the couch, why did she invite him to bed?

Barely thinking, Marinette caught the hem of his shirt just before he went to pull it off. “Can you...leave it on?” she asked, and blushed when he looked at her quizzically. “I really like cuddling with you but I...I just—”

“Just?” Luka asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Never mind, it’s stupid,” Marinette sighed, letting go, and feeling like an idiot. “You should be comfortable.

“So should you,” Luka said, sitting back down on the bed. “I can wear a shirt if you want, it’s no big deal.” He reached over and smoothed back her hair—now mostly dry, thankfully. “Is something wrong? You know you can tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable.”

Oh, she was the worst. He was so kind to her and she was the worst , and how could she admit anything like this to him? Marinette hung her head, and told a truth that wasn’t the truth. “I just...don’t like it when our skin sticks together,” she confessed, and then put her hands over her face. “I’m so sorry. Forget I said anything. I’m being stupid.”

“I’m not forgetting anything,” Luka laughed, sliding under the sheet beside her. “Why are you acting like you did something wrong?”

“It’s...not very romantic,” Marinette sighed, wrinkling her nose.

Luka rolled his eyes. “I’d rather you be comfortable than preserve some imaginary aesthetic that no one but us would even be aware of. I don’t mind wearing my shirt or keeping the sheet pulled up if it makes you more comfortable.” He slid down a bit, and stretched his arm out towards her. Marinette snuggled up next to him again, and sighed contentedly as she rested her cheek against his chest, glad that he wore a soft, slightly worn t-shirt instead of a crisp dress shirt.

“Comfy now?” he asked, his hand sliding up to massage the back of her neck.

“Mm,” she agreed, and leaned into his touch with a hum. Eventually they slithered down to lay flat in the bed, Luka curling against her back with his head on her pillow, murmuring sly comments about the movie every now and then that made Marinette giggle, and occasionally reach back to elbow him when she thought he was getting too far out of line. No one, she told him, dissed Keanu in her bed.

“Yes ma’am,” he agreed, laughing into her hair before he kissed the top of her head. Marinette smiled.

It was nice, having him snuggled up against her, his teasing voice in her ear, and Marinette’s mood was lifting with each passing moment. She found herself focusing on his broad hand resting on his stomach, his breath tickling the back of her neck, and the warmth of him behind her, the brush of his chest against her back when he breathed. Heat began to pool low in her belly, and her breathing quickened. She pressed back a little, just enough that her back was resting against her chest now, and Luka nuzzled her neck, placing a little kiss below her ear before settling again. Marinette sighed, annoyed with herself. Here she had been worried about giving him the wrong idea, but now that she was comfortable and relaxed, she was starting to change her mind.

Marinette sniffed experimentally, and found she was breathing much better. She shifted slightly, biting her lip, and then rolled over to face Luka. He blinked at her a little sleepily, and then he smiled. “I’m glad you didn’t revoke my bed privileges. I’m really comfortable right now,” he murmured. “You look like you’re feeling better.” .

“I am,” she said, and wiggled a little closer, her body already warming at the thought of his touch. She leaned up and kissed him, and any hesitation she’d still been feeling vanished at the soft feel of his mouth against hers. It seemed to wake Luka up too, because his hand went to her face and he returned her kiss with equal enthusiasm. Marinette caught hold of his shirt, and tugged him closer when he would have leaned back. “Can I be selfish, Luka?” she breathed, and felt him shudder as she kissed him again. “Even after all you’ve done for me? Can I ask for more?”

“Always,” he rumbled, rolling up onto his elbow to follow her as she kept tugging on his collar, wiggling to get beneath him. She gasped as he pressed against her, and arched her body up into his, suddenly feeling desperate. Had he been turned on this whole time and said nothing? Alya is so wrong about him.

“Comfortable , huh?” she teased, and Luka grinned sheepishly.

“I was,” he defended, “Mostly. I can ignore it when I have to, and you didn’t seem like you were up for much.” He kissed her softly.

“I wasn’t,” she admitted, and then rolled her hips up into him. Luka groaned, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as he grabbed at her hip, and her own eyes closed in pleasure. “I am now,” she sighed. “Please, Luka.” She shivered as she felt the fabric of her nightgown bunch under his big hands, the hem sliding up her calves and over her knees.

Alya was wrong about him, Marinette was sure, looking up into his eyes as he bent down to kiss her gently, but thoroughly. He only broke the kiss when he finally found the hem of the nightgown. “Can I take my shirt off now?” he asked teasingly as he dragged the nightgown up over her head. Marinette made a muffled sound. “What?” he laughed, but his laugh cut off when she pressed her hips up into him again.

“I said, yes please,” she told him smugly as he reached back for his collar.

Marinette settled her arms around his neck and pulled him down into her, eager now for the press of his skin against hers. Luka’s hands carded into her hair, tipping her face to the perfect angle as his mouth descended on hers again. She spared one fleeting thought fr Alya’s warnings before she gave herself up to the moment.

Alya is wrong about Luka...but she might be right about me. Maybe I am falling in love with him.

***

The movie menu screen had been playing for a while when Luka finally picked up the remote and turned the tv off. “I’m going to grab a drink,” Luka said, kissing Marinette’s jaw. “You want something?”

“Yes, please,” Marinette sighed. “I don’t think I can move yet.”

Luka chuckled and kissed her again. “Be right back.”

Grinning to himself, Luka stopped to pull his boxers and jeans on and made his way to the refrigerator, leaning down to find the water bottles he knew were tucked into the back for him. He’d gotten picky about water on the road, so Marinette, thoughtful as always, kept a few bottles of his favorite brand for him. He grabbed one and cracked it open, taking a long gulp, and then bent to reach in and grab the filter pitcher to make a glass for Marinette.

“Excuse me?”

Luka jumped and straightened, and turned around to find a woman standing in the apartment doorway, lit from the hall behind. She had one hand on her hip and the other on the doorknob, where a set of keys was still hanging.

“Hey,” he said, shutting the refrigerator door. “You must be Alya. I’m Luka. I’m Marinette’s—ah—” He’d almost said boyfriend, but he wasn’t, technically, and he suddenly realized he had no idea what word to use. “Friend,” he finally finished lamely, acutely aware of how the word hung between them as he stood there half-naked and disheveled. He lifted the water bottle to his lips again, still parched. “Sorry, we didn’t realize you were coming home tonight.”

He turned to get a glass from the cabinet, and felt Alya’s eyes on him as he poured the water for Marinette and put the pitcher back. He glanced up and, as he suspected, the look she was giving him was not one of appreciation. Luka had seen that look before and knew that she was seeing the dye and the piercings and the tattoos and not much else. He waited for her to say something, but when she didn’t seem inclined to, he shrugged. “Well, it’s nice to meet you,” he said quickly, and then made his way past her and back to Marinette’s room. “I’ll let Marinette know you’re home.”

He shut Marinette’s bedroom door behind him, blowing out a breath, and then looked at the bed.

He forgot about Alya for a moment when his eyes fell on Marinette, looking relaxed and blissfully happy, one lovely shoulder and her feet peeking out of the sheet she had tucked around herself. He could still see the marks of her earlier breakdown on her face, but she looked at peace now.

If he hadn’t already been sure he loved her, he didn’t think anything on earth would have saved him from falling in that moment.

Luka brought the water over and set it on her nightstand, then leaned over her to set his on the other one. Marinette smiled dreamily up at him, and he bent down and kissed her gently. She smiled against his lips.

“Your mouth is cold,” she told him, and giggled.

“Yours is hot,” he teased, kissing her again, a little deeper. Then he sighed. “Your, um...your roommate is home,” he told her, half-regretting it as Marinette stiffened instantly. “I kind of ran into her in the kitchen.”

Marinette bit her lip, looking up at him as a blush lit her face. “Oops,” she murmured, and then giggled in a way that said maybe she wasn’t all that sorry. Laughing, Luka all but tackled her, pressing her back into the pillows as he kissed her messily, moving his lips to her neck and collarbone when she tried to squirm away from him.

“What was that for?” Marinette giggled, pushing lightly at his chest until he propped himself up on his arms.

“You are criminally hot,” he told her, smirking when the red tinting her cheeks darkened. “Especially when you blush.” Always when she blushed, but especially now, looking so ravished and yet so sweetly pretty, shy and shameless at the same time.

He leaned down and kissed her again, more gently, and she hummed against him, kissing him twice more when he would have pulled away.

When she finally let him sit back, he asked, “Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” she said with determination, slipping her hand around the back of his neck and pulling him back down into another kiss. “Come get back in bed with me.”

Not at all unwilling, Luka shimmied out of his pants and crawled over her, slipping under the sheet and tucking it around his front before laying an arm down in invitation. Marinette shifted over to him, and Luka shivered when she moved the sheet away from between them. Instead of settling her head down on his shoulder, she kissed his chest, and his neck, and pressed herself up against him. “I don’t think you’re as done as you led me to believe,” she whispered with a teasing smile.

“Well not anymore.” Luka grinned up at her, shifting onto his back in answer to the press of his hands on her shoulders. “Feel like scandalizing your roommate?”

“Believe me, it’s her turn,” Marinette huffed, climbing on top of him, and looking up at her pretty face with smiling lips bruised from his kisses, haloed by mussed black hair he couldn’t wait to tangle his hands in again, Luka promptly forgot anyone else even existed.

Later, he was nearly asleep, curled around Marinette with the sheet tucked between them, when she whispered, “Luka?”

“Hmm?” he blinked his eyes open, though he couldn’t see much. He felt her tense, though, and moved a hand to her arm, rubbing his thumb along her skin.

“I think I’m falling for you,” she finally said, the sentence half a sigh as the air rushed out of her.

Luka froze for an instant, completely awake now, and he felt Marinette flinch and tense. Quickly he pressed his lips to the back of her neck, and slid his arm around her waist. “Let me know when you’re sure,” he murmured against her skin. “I’m waiting at the bottom to catch you.”

He felt her sigh and relax, and then she rolled, scooting up close against him and pillowing her head on his shoulder. Luka held her, rubbing her back softly, and turned his head to bury his face in the pillow to keep himself from screaming.

On his way out in the morning, Luka gave Alya a broad grin and a two-fingered salute.

***

“Girls, we have a problem,” Alya announced, plopping into a chair and slamming her to-go cup down on the table.

“Good morning to you too, Alya,” Alix muttered, face propped on her fist. “What the hell is it that you needed to talk to us about this early?”

“I met Marinette’s boytoy last night.”

Blank stares from around the table. Alya sighed. “The one night stand? The guy she’s been fucking every night she had free for the last month and more?”

Alix raised her eyebrows. “Still not seeing the point. So Marinette’s getting laid. A lot. Good for her. Wasn’t it your idea for her to get back out there in the first place?”

Alya slapped the table. “That’s just it! She’s not out there! She’s hung up on this dude and my point is that this isn’t like Marinette. You know she can’t just do random hookups. This has been going on for a month straight and you know she’s going to catch feelings, if she hasn’t already. And that guy, he—he’s not Marinette’s type . He’s got tattoos and piercings and dyed hair and his clothes are practically rags!”

“Sounds hot,” Alix observed, and Alya rolled her eyes.

“It’s not Marinette , and he’s definitely not the type who’s looking to settle down with one girl. He’s going to fuck her until she starts wanting more and then he’s going to break her heart. If we’re lucky. If we’re not, he’ll string her along with a bunch of promises, probably cheating on her the whole time, and then really break her heart. This isn’t the kind of relationship Marinette wants!” She waved her hands around for emphasis. “Marinette wants a house and a picket fence and a—a hamster. She needs husband material .”

“It does seem like Marinette wouldn’t be satisfied with a purely physical relationship,” Mylène said hesitantly. “But are you sure this man is no good? What if he does like Marinette?”

“They could totally fall in love! Opposites attract, you know!” Rose added, hooking her arm through Juleka’s with a giggle. “Maybe all Marinette needs is somebody a little bit different to take her mind off...you know. Him .”

“Rose, there’s different and then there’s different, ” Alya sighed. “Some different is okay, but picking up punk guys in nightclubs is a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“Mkay,” Alix sighed. “Even supposing we agreed with you, and I’m not saying we do, what would we even do about it?”

“What we need is a distraction,” Alya said, tapping a finger on the table as her brow furrowed in thought. “Someone who can get her mind off of her fuckbuddy and back to thinking about kids and hamsters.”

For a moment the girls sat in silence.

“Well,” Juleka said slowly, as heads turned toward her. “There’s my brother, I suppose. He just got back into town a couple months ago.”

“Oh, that’s true!” Rose exclaimed, laying a finger alongside her cheek as she thought. “Ooh, that could work, Juleka. I mean, if Marinette and this guy are in love, then she’ll just be making a new friend, right? And if Alya’s right, then there’s no harm in just introducing Marinette to someone else.”

Juleka shrugged. “Hard to say with him though, whether he’ll be into Marinette. He’ll either get bored or fall hard. He likes creative types—“

“That’s definitely Marinette,” Alix said dully.

“People who are honest—transparent, even.”

Alix snorted. “Also Marinette.”

Juleka was looking even more thoughtful. “People who don’t back down, who think outside the box...yeah, we could try it.” She shrugged. “Don’t know what Marinette’ll think of him, though.”

“He is very handsome,” Rose pointed out. “Not much like— you know , but that might work in our favor after everything. He looks a little bit like Keanu Reeves, and you know Marinette loves him.”

Juleka snorted. “He wishes he looked like Keanu Reeves.”

“They have the same vibe,” Rose defended.

Juleka just shook her head. “Well, if Marinette’s into ink and piercings and the whole bad boy look right now, it shouldn’t be a problem, anyway. Dumbass looks like the rough type but he’s a total teddy bear. Best of both worlds, I guess.”

“Okay, I’ve heard enough,” Alya declared, clapping her hands. “Plan A. Juleka and Rose are throwing a housewarming party.”

“We are?” chorused Rose and Juleka.

“We’ll invite Marinette, Juleka’s brother will be there, we get them together, and they hit it off, and she kicks her loser booty call to the curb. Problem solved.” Alya nodded firmly.

Alix dropped her head onto her arms. “What’s plan B?” she mumbled. “Seems like this whole plan could fall apart if they end up not liking each other.”

Alya waved a hand dismissively. “We’ll figure that out after we see how this one goes. I’ll have thought of something before the party.”

***

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Marinette said, tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear as she folded her laundry. “I didn’t expect to hear from you today. I thought you had plans tonight.”

“I do,” Luka replied. “I just have a few minutes and I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?” Marinette frowned. “What?”

“Well, I had a very interesting conversation with my sister today,” Luka told her, and she could hear amusement in his voice. “She invited me to a party later this week. Said there’s a friend of hers she’d like me to meet. Thought we might hit it off .”

“O-oh,” Marinette managed, dropping the shirt she held. “Really?” Insecurity flooded up and threatened to drown her. Aside from that one late night conversation, they hadn’t really revisited their relationship status. She hadn’t had the courage to bring it up again. If Luka wanted to meet someone else, he was still technically free to do so, but...but she’d thought...

“Yeah, maybe you know her,” Luka laughed. “She’s in your field, after all. Some hot-shot, up and coming designer named Marinette Dupain-Cheng .”

“Oh. Oh. ” Marinette’s eyes widened, and then she frowned. “Wait, do I know your sister?”

“Well, that’s what I called to find out.” Luka snorted softly. “Know a Juleka Couffaine by any chance?”

“Juleka?” Marinette shrieked. “You’re related to—how did I not know that? Why didn’t she ever say anything? Why didn’t you?” She racked her brains, thinking back.

“Mm, generally we’ve been busy not saying other things. Gotta say Jules hasn’t exactly been on my mind when we’re together.” His low chuckle made Marinette blush.

“Right.” Marinette blushed. “And I suppose I never mentioned your name to her, and Alya just calls you—” She stopped, embarrassed.

“What?” Luka asked, humor in his voice.

“My, um...boytoy.” Luka laughed uproariously, and Marinette began to giggle again. “Or sometimes things that aren’t quite so nice. She thinks you’re not good for me. Because...because of how we met, and all. Um.” She took a breath, hesitating, but then remembered that awful feeling just moments ago when it seemed like the floor had dropped out from under her, and decided it was time to put everything on the table. “She thinks you’re just in it for the sex, and I’m going to get invested and end up getting hurt.”

“Oh, I see.” Luka drawled. “As if I haven’t been head over heels for you since the moment I saw you.” Marinette blushed, and bit her lip, but Luka went on before she could say anything. “I get it. Sounds to me like your roommate’s trying to set you up with someone who’ll take care of you. Get you away from that sex-crazed loser that’s seduced her poor little innocent bestie.”

Marinette buried her face, phone and all, into the throw pillow next to her and giggled until her sides hurt and she was gasping.

“Are you done?” Luka asked, still sounding amused, when the giggling finally subsided. “Or do I need to send someone over there to administer oxygen?”

“I’m fine,” Marinette snickered. “Listen, Luka, my friends are having a party next week and I’ve got this weird feeling they’re trying to set me up. Will you come be my date to Juleka’s party? Maybe—“ She steeled herself and took the plunge. “Maybe if I introduce them to my boyfriend , they’ll back off.

There was a moment of silence. Marinette forgot to breathe.

“I’m going to need you to say that again when we’re in the same room,” Luka said, voice deliciously deep and husky, “So I can kiss you properly. Can you come over?”

Air rushed out of her. “Aren’t you busy tonight?” she asked, and smiled at the sound of his laugh.

“Not anymore.”

“Are you sure?” she teased. “I thought you had plans.”

“Consider them cancelled,” Luka told her, “Get your gorgeous ass over here.”

She did, and after she had said it again, after the kissing and the other soft words, after the more-than-kissing, they cuddled close, happy, sated, and basking in their newly upgraded relationship. Marinette felt Luka stir and prop himself on his elbow.

“You know,” he said, his breath washing across her cheek. “I’m thinking about this party the girls are planning.”

“Do you still want to go?” Marinette asked, reaching up

“Absolutely,” he said, and then his voice dropped, making her shiver slightly as he nuzzled her ear. “But why don’t we make things a little interesting.” He whispered his plan in Marinette’s ear, and she began to giggle.

***

Juleka sighed as she looked at their new apartment, cleaned and decorated without a scrap of cardboard left in the place, and gazed with exasperated fondness on all the little finger sandwiches and appetizers Rose had spent all day making. Luka had better appreciate this, she thought, as she pasted on a smile and started letting in the guests that began to arrive in ones and twos. Well, at least Rose was happy. Any excuse to bust out the glitter and craft paper and try out all these super cute recipes she found on Pinterest.

Juleka was genuinely happy to see Luka, though, when he finally knocked on the door. Her schedule had been packed lately, which was great from a career standpoint, but she hadn’t seen as much of him as she wanted to since he’d come back from his travels. She felt a little guilty that it had taken Alya’s plotting to get her to make room on her schedule to see him.

Well, hopefully she was about to make up for it.

“Hey, Jules,” he said, kissing her cheek and then Rose’s. “Congratulations on the new place.”

“Thanks,” Juleka half-smiled, all the admission she was willing to make that she was glad to see him. She was pleased to note that he’d listened to her admonishments and dressed up. He looked nice, in a black dress shirt open at the collar and jeans that were mostly intact. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the tattoos on his arms, and the dye in his hair was bright and fresh. Good. Maybe he had half a shot with Marinette, if he didn’t open up his big mouth and screw it up.

“We’re so glad you could make it, Luka!” Rose squealed, throwing her arms around his neck. Then she drew back with a dismayed expression. “Oh, but she’s not here yet.”

Luka shrugged. “That’s okay, I’m in no hurry. I meant to tell you, I’ve...actually been seeing someone, to be honest.” He had the grace to look sheepish, and winced at the way Juleka’s eyes widened.

“What?” she asked sharply, and then smacked his arm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Luka shrugged, and Juleka’s heart sank at the stupid grin that spread over his face. “We weren’t really official until just a few days ago. After we talked about this. I don’t think I’ve put my guitar down since then except to pee, so…I kinda forgot.”

“Gross,” Juleka muttered out of habit.

“Oh,” cooed Rose, clasping her hands together, before grabbing Juleka’s arm and shaking her lightly. “Ohhh, he looks so happy!”

“I am happy,” Luka grinned. “Really, really happy. She’s amazing, I’ve never met anyone like her. It’s maybe too soon to say it, but...this could be it, you know?”

Juleka felt a little sick. She hadn’t realized she was so invested in setting up Luka and Marinette, but the crushing disappointment she now felt said she was. She liked Marinette a lot, and she loved Luka more than almost anyone else in the world, and the more she considered the idea of them together, the more she thought it could work. Even though she had told herself (and Rose) not to get her hopes up, she absolutely had.

But Luka was practically glowing, so Juleka swallowed the sick feeling and told him she was happy for him. And she was, really. She had to be happy about anything that made him smile like that. As much as she would have liked to have Marinette for a sister, she wanted Luka’s happiness over all.

She wasn’t looking forward to dealing with Alya, though. Focus. Luka was looking at her with a little hopeful half-smile on his face and Rose would kill her if she crushed his enthusiasm.

“Well, when you’re sure we won’t scare her off, bring her to dinner.” Juleka punched his arm lightly. “I have to meet the lunatic who would date you.”

“Sure, sounds good. So, is there a tour?” Luka asked with a grin, and Rose bounced on her toes before grabbing onto his arm and tugging him further into the apartment. She gave Juleka one commiserating glance behind his back before she began introducing him to the small gathering of friends in their modest living room.

Juleka sighed and stationed herself back by the door to head off Alya when she came in and warn her.

The next person to show up, though, was Marinette, which was a bit surprising. She was supposed to be coming with Alya, and she wasn’t nearly as late as she usually was. Juleka felt like pouting as she looked over Marinette. She was dressed up too, in a chocolate brown dress that hugged her figure nicely to the waist, covered with a sheer lace overlay that ran up over her neck and shoulders. The skirt hung to her knees in sheer layers edged in scallops of pink lace that were piled thick enough to cover everything important, but thin enough to tease. Her hair was loose and flowing around her shoulders, and she was smiling so cheerfully, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. She’d have been the perfect bait if the trap hadn’t already been sprung. Dammit, Luka , Juleka thought grumpily. You’re missing out, dumbass .

“I brought cookies!” Marinette said breathlessly, holding up a cellophane-wrapped platter. “You can keep the plate, I got it for you.”

Juleka mumbled her thanks, smiling at the combination of cookies shaped like roses and black bats on a platter that matched their new dishes. “Thanks, Marinette. That’s really thoughtful.”

“Of course,” Marinette grinned, bobbing on her toes a little. “I’m so excited for you guys!”

She looked so genuinely excited that Juleka had to smile. “Most everybody is here already,” Juleka told her, waving her on into the apartment. “Rose is in the back showing some people around, but she’ll be back up in a minute. Wine?”

“Please,” Marinette said gratefully, and Juleka poured her a glass. “You did a great job of blending your styles, it looks so pretty in here, but, you know. Juleka pretty and not just Rose pretty. I really like what you did with the curtains—”

Juleka let her ramble on, glancing at the clock now and again. Alya and Alix were due any minute and she had to head Alya off before she did anything...pushy. Luka didn’t like pushy. Marinette drifted into the living room to chat with some other friends—and damn, the front of that dress might be all sweetness and light but the back was really sexy. “Damn it, Luka,” Juleka muttered with a frustrated sigh. “This girl better be fucking incredible.”

Luka was just following Rose back from the spare bedroom the girls were turning into a combination craft/music room, when he caught sight of Marinette chatting with a few other people in the living room.

Rose saw her almost at the same time, and gave a little squeal. “Marinette, you made it!”

Marinette came to hug her, and Luka waited while they exchanged pleasantries, trying to keep his cool so he didn’t give anything away. Finally Rose remembered he was there and turned to him, tugging Marinette forward a little.

“Oh, Marinette, this is Juleka’s brother Luka!” Rose chirped. “Luka, this is Marinette, the friend we were telling you about.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other. Just long enough to give Rose pause. Then...

“Hi,” Luka said, grinning down at her.

“Hi,” Marinette murmured, smiling up at him.

“You look good enough to eat,” he told her, settling a hand on her hip and tugging her closer. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rose’s eyes widen and had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“Is that a promise?” Marinette winked, and the tremble in her voice said she was about to laugh too.

He bent down and she pushed up and they met in a passionate kiss. Her arms went around his neck (she remembered just in time not to dump her wine down his back) and his hands found her back—which was mostly bare, he realized as he felt warm skin under his hands. The noise he made wasn’t very dignified but it would only add to the show; he slid his hands down her back and onto her ass. Just to really sell it, naturally. No doubt she was kneading his chest and shoulders for the same reason.

Damn, she even tasted like chocolate, the little minx. He’d be willing to bet she did that on purpose.

Beside them, Rose practically had to stuff both fists in her mouth to keep herself from screaming. She looked around and grabbed Mylène’s arm, shaking her as Rose hopped up and down.

“Rose, what is—oooohhh,” Mylène’s eyes went round as Rose spun her around to face the kissing couple. Rose leaned down and began to hiss excitedly into her ear. “Wait, slow down— what? ” Mylène slapped her own hands over her mouth and looked at Rose.

“ I know!!” Rose whisper-squealed, reaching up to tug at her short hair with both hands. Both of them looked towards the door, where they could see Juleka letting in Alya and Alix.

“Marinette gave us the slip,” Alya said, rolling her eyes. “Something about needing to pick up a card or some nonsense. She’s looking good, though, which is a good thing for us, right? She’s got this cute little brown dress with pink and she looks like a chocolate strawberry macaroon.”

“Wait till you see the back,” Alix grinned. “Just these two lace panels that meet between her shoulderblades and the rest is bare. Seriously hot. I’m totally begging her to make...” She trailed off as she looked at Juleka’s face. Juleka sighed.

“Listen, Alya, I need to tell you—” Juleka began, but Alya interrupted her, her face scrunching up as she looked at something over Juleka’s shoulder.

“Oh you’re kidding me, I can’t believe she brought him. What is she thinking?” Alya demanded, grabbing Juleka’s arm. “How could you let him in?” Juleka raised her eyebrows, but before she could say anything, Alix had leaned around them to see what Alya was looking at.

“What now?” Alix grumbled.

“Marinette brought her boytoy,” Alya spat, frustrated. “I can’t believe her.” Juleka nearly laughed at the irony until connections started snapping together in her head. With a feeling of dawning horror, she paused and turned slowly to look behind her, just in time to see her brother sticking his tongue down her friend’s throat. I’ll kill him , she thought. “No wonder she didn’t give me any pushback when I suggested she dress up a little,” Alya muttered, but Juleka barely heard her.

“Nice,” Alix said, still leaning around Juleka to see, eyebrows raising in appreciation. Then she frowned. “Hold on, isn’t that—”

At the same time, Juleka blurted “Wait,” and Alix broke off as both she and Alya turned to look at Juleka, who had gone pale. “ That ’ s the guy Marinette went home with? The guy she’s been banging every chance she got since—” A look of horror crossed her face. “That’s who she’s been telling us—oh, gross. ” She put a hand over her mouth, sure she was about to vomit. “Oh my God, I don’t know what I did to deserve this but I deeply regret whatever it was.”

“Never mind all that, we have to find a way to get him out of here before your brother shows up,” Alya hissed.

Juleka groaned and put her face in her hands.

Alix began to laugh. “I do feel sorry for you,” she told Juleka. “I really do. I definitely wouldn’t want to know any of that about my brother.” She paused, and made a face, turning slightly green. “Oh God, did not need that mental image, and mine’s not even real.”

“I’m gonna hurl,” Juleka mumbled. “I can’t believe I have to live with this knowledge.”

Across the room, Marinette broke their kiss long enough to ask, breathlessly, “Think they got the point?” Luka glanced up and began to laugh into her hair as she nibbled his collarbone.

“Juleka’s face is priceless right now.” He dropped his head and licked her neck, before moving his face up to whisper in her ear. “If we don’t get out of here right now I’m going to bust a gut and ruin everything.”

“Then by all means, let’s go,” she giggled. “Tell me the next time they look over.”

Luka glanced up. “Now.”

Marinette slipped her hand between his legs and squeezed, making him jump with a “whoa.”

“Sorry. Too much?” Marinette whispered.

“Not if we’re leaving right now,” he grinned back, and let Marinette take his hand, giving him her best bedroom eyes as she backed towards the door, tugging him along. He didn’t even have to feign the dopey look on his face as he stared back at her. As they passed the knot of her friends, all staring saucer-eyed at them, she waved at them.

“Thanks for inviting me, Juleka! Sorry I have to bow out early, but um...I have something to take care of,” Marinette giggled, handing her wine glass to Alix as she kept towing Luka towards the door. He smirked at Juleka and winked.

“I’ll text you about dinner,” he called over his shoulder, laughing, and then grabbed Marinette’s ass just before they stepped out of the door.

“Holy fuck,” Alix muttered, still gaping at the door. “Was that really Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” She began to laugh. “I am so fucking proud.”

“This isn’t funny!” Alya hissed. “This is a disaster!”

“Oh, it’s hilarious,” Alix gasped, barely able to breathe, and Rose and Mylène nodded, both giggling. Rose squealed, bouncing on her toes.

“This is amazing, I can’t believe it, it’s like fate or something—”

“I’m not sure that’s how fate works.” Mylène was trying to hold in her laughter for Alya’s sake. “But they certainly seem happy together.”

Juleka, still looking a little green, put her hand on Alya’s shoulder before Alya could retort. “Look, it’s fine. You don’t have to worry about her. Luka’s the only person on the planet who’s a bigger sap than Marinette. If he’s into her, he’s all in.” Remembering the way Luka had been glowing when he’d talked about his new girl—when he talked about Marinette —she managed a tiny smile despite her nausea. If Luka got his way maybe she’d have Marinette for a sister-in-law after all.

It was wiped away a second later as Alix guffawed, “Oh, she loves him being all in,” and Juleka groaned.

“I need alcohol now ,” she grumbled. “I am going to give him so much shit in the wedding speech to make up for this.”

***

Outside, Luka and Marinette got to the elevators, and then collapsed against the wall in a brief fit of giggles.

“That was brilliant,” Marinette laughed, squeezing Luka’s arm. “I’m so embarrassed but it was so worth it, did you see Alya’s face?”

“Juleka’s gonna kill me,” Luka chortled. “I can’t wait. Come here.” He pulled her close and kissed her, softer and more carefully than he had inside, and Marinette hummed with pleasure. Not that she hadn’t been enjoying their sloppy makeout, but this was more Luka’s style, and since she loved Luka, she—Marinette paused, and pulled back to look at him, biting her lip as he blinked and smiled softly at whatever he saw in her face. Marinette took a breath.

“I love you,” she said, keeping her eyes on his, though her pulse hammered in her veins. She hadn’t thought his eyes could get any softer, but he looked at her as if she was the greatest treasure in the world as he cupped her cheek and laid a soft kiss on her lips.

“I love you too,” he said roughly, and gathered her up in his arms, squeezing her tight, lifting her off her feet as he squeezed her hard.

Marinette giggled into his shoulder. “Poor Alya,” she muttered. “So wrong and so right at the same time.” She pulled back and kissed him again. “Take me home, before someone catches us making out in the hallway.”

“Too late, dudes.”

They both looked up, and Marinette’s mouth fell open as she saw Nino stepping out of the elevator with a pained expression. “Does the phrase get a room mean anything to you guys?”

“Oh,” Marinette ducked her head sheepishly. “Sorry, Nino. By the way, this is Luka. He’s...Juleka’s brother?”

Nino blinked, and then groaned. “Oh, shit.”

Marinette giggled. “We’re um...we’re leaving now. Uh...Alya might be a teensie bit—” She held up her pinched fingers. “...stressed?”

Nino rolled his eyes, but reached back to catch the elevator door for them before it closed. “Guess I’m on damage control,” he sighed, but with a grin. “Come on, get out of here.” Needing no further encouragement, Marinette pulled Luka into the elevator. “Bring him to dinner or something next time,” Nino called as he let the door close. “We can’t keep meeting like this.”

In the elevator, Luka and Marinette looked at each other. “Oops,” she whispered, and they both broke down laughing. Luka hugged her close, and Marinette sighed. “You know,” she mused. “As far as mistakes go…” She smiled up at him. “You’re the best one I ever made.”

#quickspins #oops #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #alya salt #depending on your sensitivity level #nsfwish fic #one night stand to lovers #pro lukamari #i'll never not know you

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officialchristiancagebbgirlblog · 3 months

Note

hi friend! i am feeling so angsty rn so could you maybe write something for adam copeland/edge with prompts 14, 18, and 20? maybe something like the reader gets upset with him because he cheated? i greatly appreciate it! ♡

14: please, please don’t leave me. I need you.

18: no, you lost me when you decided to kiss him/her.

20: I wish I’d never met you.

Word count: 886

Themes: angst

Warnings: swearing, mention of cheating

Hi lovely, so I have already written something similar the other day using prompt 14 (and a different using prompt 20). So what I’ve done for you, is take the fic for prompt 14 and changed the final few paragraphs with your requested prompts! Happy reading 🖤

Link to masterlist

“Adam, baby? I’m home, are you upstairs?” You called out, removing your coat and shoes by the door. No response.

‘That’s so weird’ you thought. Normally he’d, at the least, call out to you in acknowledgment that he heard you. But absolutely nothing! From upstairs floated a suspicious sound down to your ears. A sound that you heard in your nightmares. It was a faint noise but it was just loud enough for you to understand what it was; you could hear him crying hysterically. Rushing up the stairs and half falling over yourself, you got to your bedroom as quick as you possibly could, swinging open the door to see him sat on the edge of the bed.

His eyes were red and puffy, cheeks stained with tears, body shaking. When you walked closer to him, he didn’t even look up. He knew you were there but it looked like he was afraid of letting you see him in this state.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” You tried to encourage him to look at you by gently lifting his chin with your cupped hand. But as soon as his eyes met yours he let out a strangled sob before wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and pressing his face into your tummy to avoid looking up again. Just hearing him cry was enough to shatter your heart, let alone hearing him sob. You rubbed your hands on his back in an effort to console him, whispering gentle words of comfort. It took a good five minutes before he had calmed down enough to explain why he was in such a state. And as he explained, the mood began to turn sour.

“I’m so so sorry, I should have told you sooner. It’s just…I thought it would be a one…one time thing but I just. I couldn’t help myself. I’ve slept with another woman…and we’d been talking for the last few weeks. I’m…I’m so sor-“

“Hold on, let me get this straight,” you interrupted, stepping away from his desperate arms, “you’ve been talking to some woman for weeks and you slept with her?!”

“Y-yes but-“

“And on top of that, you weren’t going to tell me that you’d been talking with this bitch until you realised ‘oh shit, I might actually lose my girlfriend of three. Fucking. Years.’ Did it ever occur to you at any point that I might find out? Whether it was in two weeks or two years, the truth was going to come out?”

“I mean…please, I can explain-“

“Nah, nah you don’t get to explain shit to me,” you spat out, “I think you’ve said enough today.”

You stormed out of the room, disbelief and heartbreak settling in with each step back down the stairs. The sobbing started back up, and the pleas began spilling out his lips: “Please! Please don’t leave me! I need you…”

Reaching the ground floor, you could hear him following you. He was becoming more incoherent by the second trying desperately to explain his side. You found yourself paving around the living room trying to rationalise your thoughts, come up with a solution to this situation. It didn’t feel right to walk out. Why should you? After all, you weren’t the one who cheated.

“I can’t lose you, please I’m sorry. Don’t go…”

Hearing the wails and the whimpers was overwhelming. It sent you into a state of mind that you couldn’t control and without really realising it, your emotions and feelings in that moment took hold.

“Really? You can’t lose me? You do realise that you lost me when you decided to kiss her. The second your lips hit hers, you lost my trust. My love. Everything I gave you, gone because you just couldn’t control your lust, could you?!”

Adam opened and closed his mouth, trying his hardest to find the right words. Unfortunately he couldn’t find them, hanging his head in shame and despair, tears dripping down to the floor along with the runnings of his nose. He was a mess.

You scoffed at his silence. Of course he wouldn’t say anything. He could apologise all he wanted but truly he couldn’t nor wouldn’t take accountability for what he had done. Not truly.

“Adam…” you sighed, squeezing the top of your nose, “I’m sorry but…I wish I’d never met you. I wish I’d never gotten with you. Please, leave my house.”

The silence that followed was deafening. The tension was like a thick cloud of smoke, stopping you from being able to breathe properly. Neither of you spoke and you stood there, eyes squeezed shut. There was a faint shuffling noise for a short while before the door opened and closed with a click. When you allowed your eyes to open, you stood in an empty room. An empty house. Alone. Part of you regretted what you said, not really ready to let him go. But the sensible part of you thought better, refusing to let you mourn over the loss of your relationship.

#aew #Adam Copeland #adam copeland x reader #adam copeland imagine #adam copeland fanfic

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scapegrace74-blog · 3 years

Text

New Ways of Turning into Stone, Chapter 6

A/N Where does the time go? I lugged my laptop 7,000km round trip with the sole intention of working on this fic, but that apparently didn’t happen. For those who found the last chapter hard to bear, I apologize in advance. I am not quite finished being cruel. With that said, trigger warning for character death, childhood disease, suicide ideation. The chapter title is Sleeping in the Clouds.

The first five chapters are available on my AO3 page.

Five Months Later

A persistent mechanical bleating lifted Claire from the indeterminate depths of medicated sleep. The emergency contact number she provided to all her patients was programmed to forward to her mobile, where a particularly aggravating ringtone ensured she would never miss a call. Even at one am on a Tuesday night.

Fumbling for the device, she glanced at the unfamiliar number before answering.

“Doctor Beauchamp speaking.” Her voice was gritty and rough. She reached for a half-filled tumbler of water while waiting for the caller to identify themselves. Over the line she could make out muted traffic noise, and perhaps a distant foghorn, but no-one spoke.

“Hello?” she inquired, torn between concern that a patient needed her and frustration that she might have been woken by a misdialed number.

“If you’re one of my patients, you need to talk to me so that I can help you.”

There was an intake of breath, a weepy sniffle, and then the click of the call being terminated. A prickle of gooseflesh washed over her. She couldn’t say exactly how, but she knew who had called, and that he needed her.

One of the grim perks of her job was that she had backdoor access to reverse look-up for telephone numbers, in cases where there was a threat of self-harm or harm to others. As Claire hastily donned socks and grabbed a winter coat, she waited on hold for the PSAP operator to provide an address.

“We’re in luck, Doctor Beauchamp. It wasna a mobile number. In fact, tis a telephone booth. Gote Lane, in Queensferry. Down near the... umm, next tae the bridge.”

Without so much as a thank you, she hung up and frantically punched the app for an Uber.

Fifteen nail biting minutes and an excessive tip later, she stood in front of an empty phone booth. Predictably, the directory had been torn out, leaving only a thin metal cord and car-key graffiti inside the cramped interior. But on top of the phone itself she found a familiar ecru business card, her name and credentials embossed in black font.

“Damn it, Jamie,” she muttered to herself, palming the card.

If he’d hung up and started walking towards the bridge, she might be able to catch him if she ran all out, but something called her towards the nearby shore instead.

The tide was out, leaving a narrow strip of beach and sharp, slimy rocks exposed to the heavy air. Her nostrils were assaulted by the briny vegetative rot of the retreating sea.

On a weathered bench facing the river, encircled by a cone of foggy streetlight, sat a man, his eyes trained on the smudgy lights of the Queensferry bridge hovering high above. Even bundled in a heavy black jacket and watch cap, she would recognize his long limbs and the set of his shoulders anywhere. She let out a long breath of relief.

She approached the bench cautiously, not certain if her presence would be welcome. Instead of turning to greet her footsteps, Jamie addressed the bridge.

“Maggie passed t’day. I called ‘cause I wanted ye tae know, but then I couldna find the words tae tell ye.” Despite his refusal to look at her, his words were calm and without a hint of the bitterness she’d expected.

“Oh, Jamie. I’m so terribly sorry. I didn’t know her well, but she was a very special little girl who loved you dearly.”

He nodded in acknowledgement of her words, but didn’t reply. She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, suddenly aware that she was still wearing her pajamas, her hair doubtless a veritable cumulus of tangled curls.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked. “I still have some contacts at the hospital, I could...” she broke off, knowing it was ridiculous to offer professional assistance when she’d been the one to sever their relationship.

“Would ye, if it’s no’ too much tae ask, would ye mind jus’ sittin’ here with me fer a bit?”

He finally turned to look at her, and she could see the spider web of red veins that surrounded his irises, testimony to his heartbreak. His mouth, usually such an accurate barometer of his mood, was strangely inert. She nodded, unable to deny him such a simple request.

It was the time of night when the daytime symphony of the city broke into its component parts, every passing car, every lapping wave a single instrument singing its own plaintive song. They sat in silence for long enough that she could feel the damp creeping up the legs of her pajamas.

“Maggie loved tae cross that bridge,” Jamie said at last. “She’d lower her window, rain or shine, and stick her wee arm out, sayin’ it felt like she was flyin’.”

Claire smiled at the image, trying to picture the little girl with the giant imagination.

“What colour was her hair, Jamie?” she asked. “Was it red, like yours?”

“Nah, dark, like Jenny’s and our Da. But wi’ curls like mine and my Ma’s. A little like yours, actually, Sassenach. That is, before the chemo took it away.”

She grimaced, not knowing what topic to choose that wouldn’t lead Jamie on a path directly back to his grief.

“She fought sae hard,” he continued before she could attempt another distraction, “but the cancer wouldna let her win.” Tears were rolling down his cheeks, glinting in the sodium light like stars, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. “She was the best person I knew. Sounds strange tae say of a wee lass, but she truly was. An’ it made me a better person tae love her. What the fuck am I gonna do now?”

Jamie was looking straight at her, as though he truly expected her to offer useful guidance. All her training, her professional distance, fell away in the face of one broken man. She swallowed, searching for words that weren’t a platitude.

“You’re going to go on living, because she can’t. Because your happiness, when you are ready to feel it again, will be a gift to her memory.”

Jamie sniffed, then wiped his sleeve across his face. He placed his hand on the bench between them. Without allowing herself to think, Claire reached for it, finding his skin surprisingly warm. There was an agonizing fermata, when all the instruments held their breath, and then he turned his palm upwards to meet her own. Beneath the fog the river slipped by, blending endlessly into the sea.

"Look, Jamie, I know it’s not the right time, but I want to tell you that I’m sorry. For the way I treated you, and ended things, and...”

“Nay, Sassenach, it’s me who should apologize. I had no right tae throw my diagnosis at ye like some kinda weapon. An’ when I think of how I heedlessly brought up yer becoming a mother. I, of all people. Weel, suffice it tae say I’ve spent many an hour regretin’ my words an’ actions.”

She squeezed his hand, wordlessly declaring them equal in remorse.

“How have ye been?” he inquired, peering at her as though trying to read her state of mind on the planes of her face. She chuckled, looking away when the intensity of his gaze became too much.

“About the same, I suppose. Better some days than others. Geillis has started ordering my lunches for me, so I no longer have any excuse not to eat.” Jamie nodded, seemingly pleased with this news.

“And you? Are you still seeing Dr. Rafferty? I... uhh, I know his office requested your file.”

In fact, Giles Rafferty had called her the week after her confrontation with Jamie, wondering why his new patient’s record of treatment contained no more than his biographical details and the time and date of each of his appointments. She told him the same thing she’d told Geillis when she asked the same question in significantly cruder terms: that her weekly interactions with Jamie had never led to a professional diagnosis or a recommended course of treatment.

“Aye. He’s a good man, although tragically immune tae my charms. Unlike some.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Fraser,” she warned, although his rakish grin warmed her from the inside out.

“I’ll be darkening his doorway wi’ some frequency, after t’day,” he continued with a return to solemnity.

And yet you called me, Claire wanted to say, but didn’t. When his beloved niece had slipped away, hers had been the number he had dialed, despite everything. The very idea made her thoughts flit about like fireflies.

“I missed ye, Sassenach,” he confessed quietly after a time.

“I missed you too, Jamie.”

They sat together through the thin hours of the night, talking, sharing memories of Maggie, but mostly in silent companionship. As dawn brightened the eastern sky, the fog began to lift, revealing an overcast sky. The lights of the bridge blinked out, and the city’s music began anew. Claire wished futilely that day would never break, knowing that it would bring them both the pain of two very different kinds of goodbye.

Her hand, when Jamie finally let it go, felt strange, as though it had been separated from its source. She tucked it quickly into her pocket.

“I.. errr, I need tae be goin’,” Jamie said by way of apology. “Ian and Jenn will be needin’ me.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll just, um, call myself an Uber.”

They were both standing, neither seemingly knowing how to part.

Jamie opened his mouth, paused, shook his head in frustration, then looked away. Her traitorous hand escaped her pocket and found its way to his chest.

“I’ll be thinking of you. All of you. If there’s anything, anything at all..”

“How long until your no’ my doctor anymore? Ethically speakin’.” He was looking at her in a way that made the fireflies whirlpool about.

“What?” she asked to buy herself some time to breath.

“Before I go an’ face everything that is wrong about t’day, I want tae ken, how long must I wait before I can kiss ye again wi’out riskin’ yer reputation?”

“There’s no written timetable,” she stalled. “It’s a question of a doctor exerting undue influence or the exploitation of the patient’s trust, and there’s really...”

“Those rules are meant tae protect the patient, aye? So I should be allowed tae waive them, no’?”

“Jamie...”

“Fine, let me rephrase my question. Doctor Claire Beauchamp, when can I, James Fraser, ask ye tae look upon me as a potential suitor and no’ a former patient? Six months? A year? Two years?”

“You really are the most infuriatingly stubborn man,” she huffed.

“Aye, I ken. Sae, two years? Do we have an agreement, Sassenach?”

“Fine, yes, two years, but Jamie, I don’t expect you to...”

A finger was placed across her lips, silencing her protests.

“Two years are naught if I can kiss ye again once they have passed. Until then, Claire, please take care of yerself.”

She stood by the bench long after Jamie was gone, staring out across the river. A flock of geese flew by in formation, broad wings nearly touching the surface of the water as it reflected the steel gray clouds above. She thought of little Maggie, and her birdhouse surrounded by clouds. A sob wrestled its way up her throat, surprising in its urgency. And then, she allowed herself to cry.

#my writing #outlander

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malfoyheartsgranger · 3 years

Text

Love You Through It

Summary: In which George Weasley tries to spare his lover.

A/N: I thought this fic was going to go in a very different direction, but as I wrote, I just . . . well, kept writing. And as I did, the story changed in my mind, and this is the product. Don’t even know what else to say.

Warnings: mentions of death, argument, food

Word Count: 3.7k

. . .

George Weasley had not been the same since the war.

This was to be expected, of course. His best friend, his twin brother, had been killed, and how could he possibly be the same with his other half missing?

The short answer was that he could not.

The long answer, however—the real answer,—was that he really did try. For weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, George Weasley thought for sure he would never be happy again. His joke shop was mere metres below his own feet at every moment, and yet he could never bring himself to down the flight of stairs leading to the shop. Instead, someone else took care of the logistics and cancelled the coming inventory when she realized Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes would not be back in business for quite a while. This was the same person who made sure George always had a glass of water on his bedside table and who checked in on him every hour or so just to see if he had found the energy to wake. Each morning, she slipped into George’s room from her temporary sleeping spot on the living room couch, and spread open the curtains that she had drawn the night before, just in case George awoke and reached for the sunlight. In the early days, she did not realize just how long it would be until he would do so.

. . .

It was May 29 of 1998, twenty-seven days after George had lost Fred, when he realized this wonderful woman, his beautiful Y/N, had lost people too. George fancied himself a relatively empathetic person, but in the pain of losing his brother, he had forgotten that his girlfriend deserved the same care she had gifted to him. She never had a chance to mourn: since day one, it was her providing for George, and he was too consumed with his own grief to see it. However, when George awoke on that morning near the end of such a terrible month, he saw the clothes laid out and the window cracked open for what they truly were: Y/N’s love.

She had known not to push him in the beginning. Perhaps just the suggestion of a shower here and there, or an offer of dinner. But recently things had been different. She knew what George needed—she knew better than anyone—and he could not have been more grateful in that moment for the sunlight streaming through the open blinds and the sounds of Diagon Alley slipping through the cracked open window. When he sat up in bed, he could have sworn his head spun around one thousand times.

Maybe it was during this momentary loss of consciousness that George Weasley’s brain opened wide enough to realize he would never deserve Y/N Y/L/N.

He had told her countless times before, of course, but always out of adoration and genuine confusion on how he landed such a perfect woman. She had been there through everything, and George knew that if he did not take action, she would continue to suffer for him. He had been a horrid partner up to this point, and he could not allow himself comfort at her expense. After all, he would never be the same, so what was the point of keeping her waiting around for her George to come back?

. . .

At the sound of creaking floorboards, Y/N instantly shot up from her spot at the kitchen table. She had just finished making breakfast and was enjoying her share of the eggs she made. Her share, George figured, because there was another plate of food sitting at the other end of the table. A brief moment of selfish panic crossed his mind at the thought of her lovingly preparing something for anyone other than himself.

He lifted his gaze from the plate of eggs and toast when Y/N cleared her throat.

“George,” she whispered. Her body seemed to unconsciously back up, sending her chair skidding across the wooden floor. She nearly moved to approach him but thought better of it, deciding to merely gesture toward the empty spot across from her. She knew him well. “There’s food,” she said.

“For me?” George asked with a hitch in his throat at the effort of speaking after so many weeks of silence.

“Of course. Who else?” Y/N replied, shaking her head. “Although I usually bring it into your room and just leave it there, and sometimes when I come back it’s gone, and other times you’ve hardly touched it, but obviously you know that. After all you’re the one that eats-”

George cut off her nervous rambling with a silent nod and took a seat, thinking even further about how he could never make up for what he had put her through. Y/N’s mouth snapped shut, and she stared as he lifted his fork. Apparently deciding he was not going to flee, she sat back down as well. As he took small, slow bites, George noticed that Y/N had not moved from her straight-backed, hands-on-her-lap position. He looked up to meet her eyes and was greeted with a hesitant smile.

George spoke suddenly. “You don’t have to be so tense, Y/N. I’m not going to go feral.”

Without knowing what her reaction should be, Y/N let out a timid laugh that made her lips quiver and moved her hands to the top of the table. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

“Yes, well, I figured there were some things I needed to talk to you about,” George explained. This was a shock to both of them, George jumping into things right away. Well, he had never been the kind to wait around for things to happen: he always made them happen. While Y/N was surely taken aback, only George knew the true gravity of his words. “After breakfast.”

“Certainly,” Y/N conceded, allowing George whatever time he wanted or needed to take to discuss what was on his mind, even if it was something as simple as wishing for an additional piece of toast or salt for his eggs. Y/N was not the best cook, but she definitely tried, especially for George. She made him the same breakfast she herself ate every morning, along with any other meal she prepared, and when he did not eat it worried her. She had been so incredibly relieved when she entered his room five days after the battle and noticed that he had taken a bite of his toast. It was a step up from eating nothing. And every day, she made him food that she hoped and prayed he would eat. She would do anything for him, just as she knew he would do the same for her.

She could not have known that in his own mind, George was doubting if he ever could have acted out of care for her in the same manner that she had for him. There was a small seed of doubt, and although George Weasley seemed the farthest thing from a worrier, when it came to Y/N, he was constantly and painfully aware of his inadequacies. And he would convince her of them, if it was the last thing he said to her.

. . .

Y/N had stared at him while he ate the rest of his meal, a feat she was both shocked and unsurprised that he could accomplish. He and his brothers had always been big eaters, but the past few weeks had proven just how little George could survive on. Y/N thought that his stomach had surely shrunk in the time since the war.

What had not diminished in even the slightest was Y/N’s complete and utter admiration for her lover. While he scolded himself for being so weak, she marveled at how strong he had remained through it all. Sure, he had taken some much needed time to recuperate, but not even one half of the infamous Weasley Twins could heal from such a heartbreak in a matter of days. And his healing would not be finished, but Y/N couldn’t help but hope that his actions today were a telling sign of what was to come.

Just as she began to smile to herself, George cleared his throat and pushed his now empty plate away, eliciting an ear-shattering screech as it ran along the wooden dining table. His sudden movement shocked Y/N back into reality, and she recalled George’s concerned tone when he had said they needed to discuss some things. Certainly nothing could be worse than what had already happened to them, so why should she worry?

And yet, as sure as she was that nothing could ever hurt her more than seeing her Georgie with a broken heart, his next words came near.

“You know I’m not one to dance around anything,” he began in a timid murmur. When Y/N moved her attention to George rather than his empty plate, she could not see his hands, and knowing him, she assumed they were under the table twiddling with each others’ thumbs, just as he did every time he seemed particularly anxious. What he could be anxious about, she could not know, but she had spent more than enough time around George Weasley to recognize his tells, and the fact that they were apparent led her to jump to the worst conclusions. “I especially don’t when it comes to you, because, well, I just think you always deserve honesty. And this is something I’ve been thinking about- well, not for a long time, I suppose, but for long enough in my mind-”

“George,” she cut him off, causing him to shift his attention from the top of the table to her eyes, which at this point were nervously flitting around the room. Before she spoke her next words, she focused again on the man seated across from her. “What is it?”

George inhaled a deep breath, which, if even possible, made Y/N more nervous, recognizing that he was steeling himself for something. “This past month, you have been so good to me, Y/N,” he said, looking down once more. “So good. And I will never be able to completely express how grateful I am for you. I never would have thought I could be sitting here at a dining table having a conversation only weeks after . . .” George drifted off and threw his arms onto the table, crossing them to create a pillow for his head which quickly followed suit. Y/N had known this situation was too good to be true: of course George would not magically wake up one day and be able to discuss the war. But no matter how long she had cared for him at his worst, she would never feel any less heartbroken at seeing him in a state of devastation. With his hands now in sight, Y/N reached across the table and gently laid one of hers on top of his, and at this, he peeked up at her through his lashes and sighed. George parted his lips and shut them again, and Y/N could see his mind working through his own thoughts. With another exhale, George continued, this time maintaining eye contact.

She deserves at least that, he figured.

With a somewhat stinging smile, George shook his head. “See now this is exactly what I mean. Here I am working up to tell you to leave me, and your priority is-”

“What?”

George ceased his speech immediately, realizing his mistake. He shut his eyes for a moment. “Y/N,” he began.

“No,” she interrupted again. “What the hell are you on about, George?”

“That’s not what I meant, Y/N. If you would just-”

Y/N rose from her chair, sending it sliding across the floor, just as she had earlier, although this time her shock came from a drastically different place than when she had seen George for what seemed like the first time in months. The harsh sound silenced them both, and Y/N stood with a seething stare. How dare George come back to her just to try and get rid of her moments later? He was absolutely unbelievable, and she would stand for no such thing.

During an eternal minute of silence in which both parties considered their next move, Y/N’s brain ventured across a horrible thought. The most horrible one she had ever encountered, to be quite honest. And in a moment of vulnerability, she voiced it.

“Do you . . .” she whispered. Cleared her voice. Tried again. “Do you not love me anymore?”

“No!” George replied, shouting out his answer before Y/N could even finish her question. “No, no, of course it’s not that, darling. It’s anything but that.”

Her anger returned. “Then what could possibly be the issue? What more could we ever need?”

George at least granted her a sympathetic look, tilting his head to the side, perhaps attempting to shake around his thoughts in the hopes that they would come together to form a sentence. But when it came to Y/N, George Weasley’s brain was always mush.

“I just can’t be the man you need me to be anymore,” he decided to respond.

“George, you must know I don’t expect you to go back to normal right away,” Y/N reasoned, with much more compassion in her voice and demeanor than before.

George stood abruptly. “No, Y/N, I mean ever. I’ll never be the same, and that’s not fair to you in the slightest. If I can spare you any more pain than I’ve already caused . . . Well, I have to. I owe that to you.”

Without responding, Y/N collected her and George’s dishes from the table and brought them around to the sink. George stood still, simply watching her movements, completely mesmerized as he was by everything she did. Even in this moment, when he knew that although he was trying to do the right thing and was failing miserably, Y/N still responded with just the right amount of grace and fire.

After dropping the plates and silverware into the sink and allowing them to clatter for a moment, Y/N gripped the edge of the porcelain, and even from across the room, George could see how the bumps of her knuckles turned white. She sniffed once and tilted her head back to look at the ceiling of their flat.

“You once told me you’ve loved me since third year,” she whispered. But George could still hear her. He always heard her.

The redheaded man nodded, not disagreeing at all with her statement. “And I have.”

“And do you think I haven’t changed since then?” With a deep breath, Y/N twirled around and crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you think I’m the same as I was when we met?”

George gave a slight shake of his head, yet still replied, “It’s not the same.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows and let out a mirthless bark. “It’s not the same?” she asked. “Of course it’s not the same, George, but what could be? Do you forget that Cedric Diggory and I were friends? That I told him to ask Cho to the Yule Ball because I knew them both so well? That I cheered him on during every Triwizard event? Do you not remember that yourself and Fr-” she paused, trying not to let her passion outweigh her empathy for George’s condition. “When yourself and your brother had to distract me with pranks because his death took such a toll on me, and not even gifting the nastiest batch of Puking Pastilles to Draco Malfoy could cheer me up?” Y/N looked down at the floor, recalling just how difficult that time had been for her, when Harry Potter had returned with the corpse of one of her best friends, and the world seemed to move on while everything around her came to a standstill. When she introduced herself to young Harry, simply because they shared such a horrible similarity. When she convinced her friends that Voldemort was back, for how could anyone else have defeated someone as powerful and just as the brave Cedric Diggory? When her broken heart was healed by the mischievous George Weasley, and she realized that perhaps her love for him went a bit past that of a friend. “Nothing could compare to what you’ve gone through, George, to the loss that you’ve suffered, but how dare you pretend I know nothing of the heartbreak that comes with losing someone you love.”

George felt horrible. Of course he remembered that. As awful as what happened to Diggory was, it brought him and Y/N together, and a part of him would always hold some twisted sort of gratitude for it. “Of course that’s-”

“That’s not what you meant, I know.” She waved him away. “But my point is, George, I have changed. Not just because of Cedric, but because of so many other things. And you have loved me through all of them.” Y/N brushed her hair behind her shoulder and stepped away from the kitchen sink to approach George. Taking both of his hands in hers, she begged him, “Let me love you through this.”

As George’s eyes brimmed with tears, he could not help but think of how his brother—how Fred—would smirk at him in the moment, but later, in private, admit that he was glad he found Y/N.

“Even if she was best friends with both of us and chose the worse twin,” he would say with a cheeky wink from across the counter of their joke shop, probably while he restocked love potions or some other form of hijinx, “I still think she’s good for you. Amazing, really.”

And then he would spike George’s drink with a crushed up hiccough sweet for him to drink right before his date with Y/N, and George would curse him and love him for it all the same. It would be irritating, but he and Y/N would laugh about it, and that was always Fred’s way.

And in that moment, perhaps only that one, George realized that as hesitant as she was to say it, Y/N missed Fred, too. After all, they had once been a trio, and she had lost him just as much as George had. George had grasped earlier that morning that she lost people in the war but had been too focused on his own pain to understand that they had lost the same people.

When George looked up at Y/N from his previous gaze on their linked hands, he noticed that she was looking at him with tears in her own eyes. She had been thinking the same thing, that while her world had been revolving around George’s wellbeing, she had not been as kind to herself as she deserved. Fred and George would always have a relationship unique to themselves, but that didn’t mean Y/N wasn’t a part of their friendship. In fact, she was a big part, and therefore she was missing a big part of herself. So at the same time George exited his nightmarish reverie, Y/N too reentered reality. And their hands were still linked. As they had been through this all, even if they had not known it.

“I couldn’t leave you, Georgie,” Y/N murmured. “Even if you pushed me right out the door and down the staircase.”

George laughed for what seemed like the first time in years, and he was surprised at how genuine it sounded to his own ears. Standing in the kitchen of the flat he used to share with his best friend in the whole world, George was reminded of Fred in the best way possible: laughter.

Y/N seemed to think the same thing, for despite the wetness pooling in her eyes, she smiled up at her lover and gave him a small nod. “You’re going to be okay, George,” she assured him, only because she knew so herself.

“We’re going to be okay,” George corrected her. He squeezed her hands and spun them around so that Y/N could sit on the kitchen chair while George kneeled on the ground. He lowered her down with his hands and then placed them on the top of her legs. As he traced small shapes on the knobs of her knees, George muttered, “I’m never trying to do the noble thing again.”

Y/N laughed, this time with real humor. “Promise?”

“Pinky swear,” George said, hooking his pinky finger around hers.

She cupped his face in her hands. “And even if it’s the evil thing to do, never try to get rid of me again, okay? Nothing could ever make me leave you. Nothing could ever make me stop loving you.”

“And if something dreadful happens in the future?” George asked with a serious tone.

“I’ll stay. I’ll never leave.”

With a much lighter voice, George wondered, “What if fifty years from now, when we’re old and grey, our favorite cat runs away and we find out some nasty little boy found it and kept it for himself? Or maybe a dog, I haven’t thought that far ahead, to be completely honest with you. I’d even be fine with a hamster if that’s what you wanted-”

“George,” Y/N said. “Even if something as foul as that were to happen to us, we could figure it out. Together this time. No more making decisions by yourself.”

Pushing his joke aside, George leant forward as hastily as he could to place a lingering kiss on Y/N’s lips. He poured every ounce of love he possibly could into that kiss, and as Y/N sighed into him with the relief of his mouth on hers once again, George Weasley knew he was the luckiest man alive. Because he knew that in the coming years, they would each face more heartbreak. It was inevitable. But neither of them would be alone. And they would always have someone to love them through it.

. . .

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rufousnmacska · 3 years

Text

Only You

A manorian arranged marriage fic from an anon request -

Do you think you could write an angsty manorian drabble where political/royal pressures and such has Dorian marry someone else + Dorian being mortal has Manon encouraging him? just all that manorian heartbreak+pining. also really love your fics!

This turned into much more than a drabble, but I hope everyone enjoys it! 🤗

Many thanks to @itach-i for beta reading and helping plot things out! ❤️

PART ONE

Dorian hadn’t noticed the cold until his valet wrapped a furred robe around him. How long had he been standing out here? The sun had just broken from the horizon and his breath was pooling in front of him with each exhale. The valet, a gray-haired man named Ruben, disappeared back into the royal suite, muttering something about the foolishness of young men. Dorian smiled grimly, knowing he was indeed foolish. Worse. He was a godsdamned idiot. And he felt numb, as though his body was somewhere far from here, his mind with it. None of it was due to the winter chill. Staring off towards the hills west of Rifthold, his eyes glanced over the many red and gold banners attached to the city’s roofs, snapping in the wind. Part of him loved seeing his people so excited, so proud for the coming celebration. They’d suffered greatly during the war and had worked hard in the rebuilding effort of the last two years. But that small joy for his kingdom was overshadowed by his own despair. How many times had he stood in this spot, watching and waiting and holding his breath until he caught sight of those silvery wings and moon white hair dancing in the sky? He’d known today would be his last chance to watch for her. And since sleep was a fool’s hope, he’d come out to his balcony and stood here for hours, his gaze on the west, wondering where it had all gone wrong.

***

The rising sun shone brightly off the tops of the castle towers, giving the small group of witches their first real view of Rifthold in the distance. In the past, this sight would leave Manon breathless with anticipation, pushing Abraxos to speed up in her excitement. There had been times when her giddy desperation to reach the castle was almost humiliating, forcing her to contain her emotions before she landed. But no matter her control in those moments, Dorian would greet her on his balcony with a ferocious embrace, seeing right through her mask. He always had. Now, Manon wished that truth away, pushing it deep down, along with the nausea roiling in her gut. As they drew nearer to Rifthold, she could just barely make out the decorations hanging from the castle. It almost brought up the meager breakfast she’d eaten not long ago. With the brightening sky, she realized the entire city was decked out, covered in colorful banners and garlands. Of course, a royal wedding demanded finery. She had expected it, guarded herself against it. But her expectations were dealt a swift blow by the reality now facing her. Manon was on her way to Dorian’s wedding. Not as the bride, but as a royal guest. And she had no one but herself to blame.

*****

Six months earlier…

Manon frowned as Abraxos landed on an unusually empty balcony. Though she’d never asked for it, the space had been rebuilt to provide a large enough area to comfortably hold a wyvern. Wrapping halfway around the king’s tower, the balcony offered magnificent views of the ocean to the east and the mountains to the west. As she dismounted, Manon realized that vast western view was what gave Dorian the ability to know she was almost there. Normally, she wouldn’t notice the view because he would be there, scooping her up and taking her inside to say hello in her favorite ways. But tonight, she and Abraxos were alone.

Quietly, so as not to startle Ruben, Manon stepped through the doorway. She needn’t have bothered. The bedroom was as empty as the outside and she heard no sounds coming through the door to the other rooms. Wondering if he hadn’t received her last message telling him when to expect her, Manon sat on a sofa to wait. She lasted less than five minutes before pacing around the room, then finally deciding to go in search of Dorian.

The office was empty and as she continued through to the exterior door, Manon rolled her eyes at the messy desk. How Dorian managed to keep everything straight in the piles and stacks of papers was beyond her. She wasn’t in the corridor long before she heard angry voices echoing up the stairway. Chaol and Dorian had stopped part way up the tower.

“You can’t afford to just dismiss this threat of rebellion. Lord Frey is an ass, but he has the ear of too many other nobles to be ignored.” Chaol sounded winded. Manon didn’t think he came up here very often since his mobility was tied to his wife’s magic. That he was here now to continue this conversation was significant.

“I refuse to give into his demands,” Dorian growled. “He complains about me leaving the kingdom to Erawan, and yet he brags about how he profited from the war. Whatever gold he has in his coffers did not come from me.”

Manon inched back to the door on silent feet. She knew Dorian’s lords were causing trouble, but he’d refused to go into detail about it with her. The thought of anyone claiming Dorian had willfully abandoned Adarlan to Erawan made her blood boil. The valg king and his armies had left a path of scorched earth and devastation on his march to Terrasen. And Dorian had spent the last two years of his life dedicated to rebuilding his kingdom.

Chaol sighed. “Yes, but what he’s proposed in exchange—”

“What he’s proposed will not be considered,” Dorian interrupted. It was a voice Manon had never heard from him.

After a long pause, Chaol continued. “I know how you feel, Dorian. But we need to put emotions aside and think this through. I’m not saying we go along with it. But right now, we have to look at every option.”

“You say ‘we’ as if you would be the one marrying his daughter.”

Manon gasped, covering her mouth to remain quiet.

“It would be a political alliance,” Chaol reasoned. “You wouldn’t have to end things with—”

Again, Dorian refused to let him finish. “Stop. I’ve told you my decision. We will find some other way to placate the rebellious lords. I am not marrying her.”

Soft footsteps punctuated by the clack of a cane sounded as Chaol left his king and descended the tower. When he was gone, she heard Dorian smash his fist into the stone wall, pieces of mortar crumbling and raining down onto the floor. Manon was paralyzed, her hands balled up into tight fists, eyes wide. And that was how Dorian found her when he took the final steps up to his suite.

***

“You misunderstood. Frey doesn’t have enough clout to demand such a thing.” Dorian was frantic, spending the last two hours trying to explain away what Manon had heard. But her face had frozen into a mask, nothing he said could tease out even the slightest reaction.

“You can’t be so flippant,” she said, the stony resolve in her voice starting to scare him. “He’s offered you an out from civil war. If you care about your kingdom, you must do it.”

He was going mad. First Chaol, now Manon. Where was Yrene to talk some sense into them? He cared about his kingdom and his people. He cared so much that he had no life whatsoever beyond the endless meetings and negotiations and squabbles. His sole joy in life was standing before him now arguing that he should marry someone else.

“If I care?” he asked. “I was prepared to die for it. On many occasions. I would gladly give my life. But I won’t give my heart.”

Manon blinked slowly, and he realized she was looking past him. “You once told me you were prepared to give up your throne for Sorscha. Then the war taught you how foolish, how childish that was. And now, as if you learned nothing, sacrificed nothing, you want to do the same thing. Your life and your heart are one in the same.” Finally, her golden eyes met his. “I am immortal. You are not. You need a human queen to give you heirs and unite your kingdom. I will not play a part in disrupting that.”

Dorian searched for any sign - an unshed tear, a twitch of her lips, a clenched jaw. But there was nothing. Nothing on her face except a cold certainty that left him feeling lost, alone. He knew this was an act, a means of protecting herself. And yet, she was right. When they’d parted ways in Orynth after the war, he’d ignored the desire to ask her for some sort of commitment beyond “We’ll see.” They both had countries to rebuild and had chosen that greater responsibility over personal wishes. Dorian told himself then that they had time. Yes, he was a mortal. But he still had a plentiful well of raw magic on which to draw upon, magic that would give him a much longer life than a normal human. And only two short years later, out of nowhere, everything was falling apart.

No, he would not let his people suffer through war again. But giving in to extortion was not an acceptable alternative. He thought of Aelin, wondering how she would handle a situation like this. With the way her people adored her, he knew she’d never reach this point. Maybe Frey and his allies were right. Maybe he’d left them to fend for themselves out of cowardice instead of prudence. Suddenly, Dorian was exhausted, tired of being king, tired of giving up everything he wanted. He rubbed his eyes until they were red

“You know it has to be this way,” she said, having watched him sort out his thoughts. “No matter what they claim, you’ve never once abandoned this kingdom. Which is why you won’t do it now.”

Dorian stared at the ground, grasping for a way out, but his mind felt like aspic, soft and muddled and useless. “I won’t be a king who takes a queen and still keeps a lover.” The ultimatum was hard to voice, but it was true. Despite his rakish history, he’d never taken a new lover without breaking things off with the old one. If ever an exception was to be made, it would be with Manon. But he would never disrespect her, a queen in her own right, by reducing her to a secret paramour and source of castle gossip.

Still stoic, she replied, “I would not expect you to.”

They had always pushed and teased each other, seeing which one would break first and admit their feelings or give in to the desire. Desperately hoping that they were playing that game now, he surrendered. “I want you, Manon. No one else.”

The slightest hitch in her breathing and a tiny flutter of her eyes sent his hope soaring. But, with a firm tone that meant she would say no more, Manon said, “Marry her, Dorian. Save your throne and keep your people from more bloodshed.”

Before he could respond, she walked out the door and climbed into the saddle still strapped to her wyvern. Manon was in the air without a look back, and Dorian sank to the ground, his head in his hands.

*****

Rumors were flying through the witch city faster than the most agile wyverns. Mere months ago, the witches had expected an announcement from their queen, happy news that their kingdom would be united with Adarlan. Some were not in favor of their queen marrying a human, king or not. Others, especially those in the queen’s council, saw it as a good match. A love match, they claimed. But now, after the royal messenger from Adarlan had arrived, the gossip was spinning out of control.

Manon stared at the thick envelope sealed with red and gold wax, the wyvern stamped into it watching her with a single mocking eye. Dorian had once laughed about how significant it was for his royal crest to include a wyvern, a connection forged between their two kingdoms before they had even met. She’d brushed the thought away at the time, rolling her eyes at his insistence that fate was at work. But now, the memory of his teasing voice sank into her chest, adding to the heaviness and pain that had been choking her since she’d left him on that balcony months ago.

“You don’t have to go. No one would fault you for it. We can send Petrah as a representative,” Glennis said, her voice stiff and formal. It was a tone usually relegated for council meetings, not a conversation with her granddaughter.

She was silent for a long moment, still looking at the envelope. Instead of answering, Manon picked it up and ripped apart the seal. The invitation was written in fanciful blue ink with a border of red berries and ivy stamped into the parchment. She frowned at the flowery words that matched the design, knowing the girl must have been behind all of it. The girl. Manon knew she was likely close to Dorian’s age, but she didn’t care. The future queen of Adarlan would forever be the girl in her mind. Even so, it was impossible to miss her name in elegant calligraphy.

Your presence is requested at the royal wedding of Lady Eveline Frey and His Majesty Dorian Havilliard II, King of Adarlan

Manon stopped reading at his name and continued to flip through the remaining pages. They contained notices of the pre-wedding events that the ‘happy couple’ hoped people would attend, despite the possibility of poor weather at that time of year.

Happy. Her eyes caught on that word and didn’t move. She knew it was a lie. And yet, her old doubts and fears flooded back into her mind. She was still heartless despite her efforts to change, he deserved someone who could sufficiently return his affections. She was immortal, he was not. Manon had reasoned that she would rather lose him like this than watch up close as he aged and died. Rather lose him now, when they could both move on to full lives, than be forced to somehow carry on after his death. A magically extended life or not, she could see no other scenario if she continued with him. And if that was truly how she felt, then she wanted to be there and show him they were both better off this way.

Glennis watched her, likely reading every thought that had gone through her head. For when Manon said she was going, her grandmother’s head dipped in resignation. “Then I will accompany you.”

Manon lost count of her attempts at crafting a reply. She began with a simple list of witches who would attend with her, which morphed into a long drawn out explanation of why she wanted to be there. Then she backtracked into a brief, two sentence response. And even then, she had to make several copies until one was legible. The anguish of what she faced kept showing itself in her shaking hand.

Her eyes keep going back to their names and she found herself wondering what the girl was like. Did she like to read? Could she fight with a sword? Would she stand up to the nobility who claimed Dorian was not worthy of his throne? How would she react to him waking up screaming in the middle of the night from a nightmare in which he’d been torturing people?

That last thought made her feel sick. Not because of the dreams that still plagued him - she was well versed in helping to comfort him, just as he knew how to ease her grief and fear after a nightmare. It was the idea that they’d be sharing a bed that turned her stomach.

Gods what was she thinking? There were two months until the wedding. Was that long enough to forget everything Dorian was to her?

Manon knew the answer. And yet, when she read over their names again, she made herself remember why things had to be this way. Adarlan could not survive another war, especially one which tore it apart from the inside out. This was for the best. His and hers. This wedding would be closure, and afterwards, she could move on, search for a suitable consort. Not to become her king. She could not bear seeing anyone else beside her in that capacity. But finding an acceptable male to produce an heir would help to stabilize her kingdom. If Dorian was forced to set aside his heart to help his people, then she would do the same.

When she gave the reply to Glennis later, her grandmother frowned. “I find myself not wanting to send this.”

“It will be us and two sentinels. That’s all,” Manon said, ignoring the witch’s reluctance. “We will arrive the day before and leave immediately after the ceremony.” As Glennis nodded in agreement, Manon noticed she held a royal envelope in her other hand. “What is that?”

Again, that frown. “It’s from Prince Fennick Whitethorn of Doranelle. A cousin of Rowan’s I believe.”

“Was he in Orynth?” She didn’t recall him being there, but her memories from those early days battling Erawan’s army were foggy.

“I don’t think he was.”

Manon took it, examining front and back. The wax seal matched that of Queen Sellene Whitethorn. “What could this be?” she wondered aloud.

Glennis was already walking away, but she turned and said sharply, “I can only imagine.”

Manon was glad she waited until she was alone to read it, for by the end of it, she was sitting motionless, the letter forgotten on the floor.

Prince Fennick Whitethorn, a cousin to both Rowan and Queen Sellene, had written to express his regards and dismay at the news that the King of Adarlan would marry a noble from his own kingdom. He’d felt compelled to write her directly, offering her his support and friendship since he’d experienced something similar a few hundred years before. As Doranelle’s representative at the festivities, he hoped they could meet in Rifthold. In not so veiled terms, he suggested they might establish an alliance of their own, one that would be amenable to both their countries.

Mere hours after speculating about taking a consort and here she was, staring at a proposal. She couldn’t decide between outrage or amazement at the audacity of the fae male. It had certainly taken balls to approach her this way. And at this time. Picking up the letter, she read it over again. From the sounds of it, Fennick had been left heartbroken in his past. A past that extended even further back than her own. Had she not used her own immortality as a reason that Dorian should wed another? Here was an immortal throwing himself at her, eager for alliance. But she wondered if his interest would wane when he was told that at best, he might become her consort. There was only one man who she’d accept as her king, and he was now outside her reach.

She decided not to send a reply. If the fae prince was there, she would meet with him, see what kind of male he was and whether he might bring anything of worth to an alliance. If not, it would be one less thing to worry about.

That night, as she tried and failed to fall asleep, Manon found herself imagining how she might say goodbye to Dorian. They never used the word, choosing instead to focus only on their hellos. It made a twisted sort of sense that this goodbye, this parting that would be permanent, would be the first and last time it was spoken between them.

***

Yrene found Dorian in his office, watching the brutal winter winds send snow whipping through the air outside his window. Judging from her expression, she knew why he’d sent for her. When her eyes went to the letter on his desk, her shoulders seemed to slump, and she sat down heavily across from him.

“She will be attending,” he said, pushing the short reply across the desk in case she wanted to read it. After immediately recognizing the handwriting as Manon’s, he’d stared at it for a long time. As if there might be some sign of hesitation on her part, he’d examined the note, his eyes running over each stroke of ink, again and again. It was flawless. Just like her, he’d thought miserably.

“I didn’t think she’d actually come. It was meant as a formality between two allies.”

“Perhaps that’s why she has agreed. Formality, nothing more,” Yrene offered.

“How do you think Eveline will handle it?” Despite a wedding date only a few weeks away, Dorian barely spoke to his future queen. Yrene had been acting as a go between, keeping Dorian from having to feign pleasantries and interest in someone who he’d claimed looked and acted like an empty doll.

“She has been trained as a courtier since birth. I’m sure she will be as polite and ladylike as she always is.” Yrene rose and came around the desk, standing in front of the window to make Dorian look at her. “She may appear timid and vapid in front of her father, but she is no fool. She knows what this arrangement is and why it’s happening. Your involvement with Manon was never much of a secret. Eveline knows she is not your choice. But like you, she is doing her duty.”

Dorian didn’t reply. He knew his opinion of her was misguided, that it was based on anger at the situation, at her father. Which was why he kept his distance. If he couldn’t keep himself in check in private or with his friends, how could he expect to refrain from unleashing his rage on her with hurtful words? At least, that’s what he told himself. It was true, but some part of him knew that if he gave in and spent time with her, it would make this all the more real.

Yrene’s eyes darkened as she said, “Lord Frey has a reputation to match Chaol’s father. With her mother gone, I suspect Eveline has not had much control over her life. This would be nothing new to her.”

Now fully ashamed of himself, Dorian only nodded. If there was anything he could understand, it was not being able to defy a bullying parent. A new sense of sympathy filled him as he wondered how desperate Eveline must be for a new life. Freedom from an abusive father would be worth the heavy responsibilities and loss of privacy that came with being a queen. Maybe it was time to make an effort. He couldn’t envision a future where he would ever develop actual feelings for Eveline. But he could at least become her friend.

“What else have you learned about her?” he asked.

Yrene shrugged. “Her education has been extensive, and she knows much about the court and how it runs. She enjoys art and music, embroidery …” She trailed off, trying to think of any other attributes worth sharing. “Horse riding. She always seems to be coming back from the stables when I see her. I’ve gotten the impression her father does not approve of that hobby, but she maintains that being a good horsewoman befits a true lady.”

“So, she does disobey him then …” Dorian smiled slightly, recalling how he used to rebel against his parents. Horse riding was much less scandalous. “Does she need any help with the wedding plans?”

The suddenness of his change in tone had Yrene blinking at him. “I don’t believe so. But I can ask her.”

Dorian stood and walked towards the door. He knew if he didn’t start now, he never would. “I will go ask. I’d like to recommend some music.”

“Wait,” Yrene cried, trailing him out into the corridor. When she caught up to him, she asked, “What are you doing?”

The fear in her eyes almost made Dorian turn around and forget his pledge of moments ago to try and accept this. Yrene had always been the biggest supporter of his relationship with Manon. Whether she was helping them arrange a short, secret escape from their duties, or using her sharp tongue to tear down any detractors of the Witch Kingdom, or giving him advice on how to help Manon recover from the loss of her coven … Yrene had always been there. And now, for the first time, it seemed to be sinking in for her that what she had dreamed for her friends – a happily ever after to rival what she had with Chaol – was impossible. It pained Dorian to see it and he pulled her into a hug.

“If there was another way, Yrene, I’d do it. You know that.”

She hugged him back fiercely, her voice shaking as she said, “I know. She is my friend too, Dorian. And I don’t want to lose her.”

Gods, Dorian thought his heart couldn’t break anymore. And here it was, cracking into even more fragments, each time becoming smaller and smaller. “I know.”

Yrene backed away and let loose a string of curses and insults about Lord Frey that left his eyes wide and mouth agape. He’d never heard her speak like that before, had never thought her capable of such filthy language.

Before she could think to apologize, he laughed. “Well said, Lady!”

Red with embarrassment, Yrene burst into laughter too. When they’d both regained their composure, she said, “Come. I’ll walk with you to Eveline’s rooms and catch you up on her wedding plans.”

“Thank you,” he said, and meant it. “She is as much a pawn in this game as anyone, and she doesn’t deserve my animosity.”

Yrene nodded. “As much as I hate to admit it, she’s a perfectly lovely young woman. It makes things worse in a way.”

When they reached her rooms, Yrene led him inside.

“Your Majesty,” Eveline said brightly. Her dark hair matched her eyes and she gave him a beaming smile. “I was not expecting you today.” She was going through a stack of replies to the invitations.

“Please, call me Dorian. I insist,” he said. “I have one more to add.” Slowly, as if not wanting to give it up, he handed her Manon’s reply. He and Yrene both watched her carefully as she read it.

With the same smile as before, Eveline said, “I’m so pleased the Witch Queen will be attending. None of your other royal friends are able to come due to the weather. Though Doranelle is sending someone.” She paused, thinking. “I can’t remember his name.”

As the two women went through the replies and spoke quietly, Dorian pretended to listen. For one terrible moment, he wondered what the word princeling might sound like from Eveline’s mouth. The thought felt blasphemous, leaving him spinning and trapped between two worlds: the reality sitting next to him, this perfectly lovely woman for whom he felt nothing, and a dream world where he’d wake up happy each morning to snow white hair and golden eyes. A dream that had slipped through his fingers, like the wind gusting wildly outside.

Perfectly lovely. Eveline was lovely, and perfect, with exquisite manners, an impeccable wardrobe, and a distinguished education. But despite that loveliness and perfection, he knew without a doubt that his feelings towards Eveline would never come close to what he felt for Manon. Manon was his mirror, his equal. If beings other than fae were able to have true mates, she would be his.

The thought struck him like a dagger, straight to whatever bits of his heart yet remained. Shaking his head, Dorian tried not to think of Manon, of how this next visit for the wedding would likely be her last. Tried not to dwell on how he would have to live the rest of his life without her, his mate in every way that counted.

Of course, he failed. And when Eveline asked him about what music he’d prefer, Dorian used every ounce of strength he had left to force a smile on his face and answer.

To be continued...

***

Thanks for reading! You can find my writing master list here or on AO3.

It’s been a while since I’ve written and I’m not sure who all is still out there. So if I missed you, or you’d like to be tagged/removed for parts two and three, let me know.

@itach-i @bookishwitchling @manontrashbeak @awesomelena555 @jimetg98 @over300books

#manorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #throne of glass #yrene westfall #chaol westfall #glennis crochan #my writing #manorian fanfic #throne of glass fanfic #only you

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bechloeislegit · 3 years

Text

My Spy - EPILOGUE

Set fives years after Beca and Chloe [finally] got back together. Warning: Lots of fluff ahead.

I know I'm late posting this, but I just love this AU so much I wanted to keep going. I do intend to come back to it for some one-shots and such at a later date. Enjoy!

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Beca woke to her alarm and immediately shut it off. She snuggled closer to Chloe and exhaled a sigh of contentment.

"Happy Anniversary," Beca mumbled.

"Mmmm," Chloe mumbled. "What anniversary is today?"

Beca pulled back to look at Chloe.

"You don't remember?" Beca asked. "It's been five years since you moved to LA; five years ago today since you moved in with me."

"Oh," Chloe said, kissing Beca behind her ear. "Maybe we should celebrate."

"Dinner out tonight?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of something we could do now. In bed."

Chloe kissed Beca's lips. Beca moaned and pulled away.

"I have to be in the studio in less than an hour," Beca said. "I really don't want to go in all hot and bothered. Raincheck after we get back from dinner?"

"Okay," Chloe sighed. "But I'm going to hold you to that."

"I promise," Beca said, giving Chloe a chaste kiss on the lips. "I'm going to take a quick, mostly cold shower, and get ready for work."

Chloe reached for Beca. Beca moved out of her reach and slipped out of bed, quickly rushing into their ensuite to shower.

"I love you!" Chloe called after Beca as she closed the bathroom door.

Beca poked her head out the door, smiled, and said, "I love you, too."

A few seconds later, Chloe smiled when she heard the shower start and then Beca's squeal as she stepped under what was most definitely cold water.

~~ My Spy ~~

After work, Beca came through the front door of her LA home to find Chloe sitting on the couch, talking on the phone. She set her bag by the door and made her way over to Chloe. Beca laid on her back, putting her head in Chloe's lap.

Chloe continued her conversation and started playing with Beca's hair. She slid her fingers through to lift the strands before letting them fall back down to settle around her lap.

"Beca just got home and we're going out to dinner, Aunt Peggy," Chloe said, smiling down at Beca. "I'll be sure and tell her. Okay, I'll talk to you later."

Chloe ended the call and leaned down to kiss Beca. "Aunt Peggy says Hi."

"Hi," Beca said, smiling and sitting up to thoroughly kiss Chloe. "How was your day?"

"It was quite exciting," Chloe said. "And a little bit heartbreaking."

"Oh," Beca said. "How so?"

"Well, at recess, Timmy Dexter lost a tooth on the playground," Chloe said. "We spent almost twenty minutes looking for it. We didn't find it and he was quite upset because he didn't have anything to leave for the tooth fairy. I felt so bad for him."

Beca chuckled and said, "I can't wait until we have to deal with things like the Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny, and Santa Claus."

"I'm just glad that we'll be dealing with all those things together."

"You're such a cheeseball," Beca said, smiling at Chloe. "And I love you even more for it."

"Good," Chloe said, giving Beca a quick kiss. "Because you're stuck with me for life."

"That's one life sentence I don't mind serving," Beca said. "As long as I'm serving it with you."

"Now, who's the cheeseball?" Chloe said, chuckling as she stood. "Where do you want to go for dinner?"

"I've been craving Mexican food all day," Beca said.

"Are you craving Mexican food?" Chloe asked with a sly smile. "Or is Baby Beale craving Mexican food?"

"What?" Beca asked in astonishment. "How did you know? I was going to surprise you and tell you at dinner."

"Babe," Chloe said, smiling at Beca. "I wasn't totally positive, but I had my suspicions. And you just confirmed that I was right. So, when are we due?"

"I'm only about six weeks pregnant now," Beca said. "So, we're due sometime in mid-to late-November."

"I'm so happy right now," Chloe said, as a tear ran down her face.

Beca stood and pulled Chloe to her. She wiped the tear from Chloe's cheek with her thumb.

"Our lives are truly about to change," Beca said. "For the better. I can't believe I got pregnant on the first try."

"I know," Chloe sniffled. "I can't wait to tell Aunt Peggy. She's going to be over the moon."

"I can't wait to tell the Bellas," Beca said. "We were the first to get married and now we're the second to get pregnant."

"Is everything a competition with you and the Bellas?" Chloe asked, chuckling.

"Yes, and as far as I'm concerned, I'm, um, we're winning," Beca said, kissing Chloe.

They kissed for a few minutes and Chloe pulled back.

"Do you still want to go out to eat?"

"We can just order something for delivery."

"Or, we just skip dinner for now and finish what we started this morning."

"I like the way you think."

Beca grabbed Chloe's hand and pulled her up the stairs to their bedroom. Chloe giggled the entire way.

~~ My Spy ~~

A few hours later, Beca and Chloe were sitting up in bed, eating from a tray that Chloe had put together for them.

"I almost forgot," Beca said, grabbing some grapes from the tray, and popping one in her mouth. "Amy called me today."

"Really?" Chloe said, biting into a cracker with cheese. "What did she want?"

"She's decided she's done seeing the World," Beca said, popping another grape into her mouth. "And she's planning to relocate here to LA. She wanted to know if she could stay with us while she looked for a house to buy."

"When will she be here?" Chloe asked, finishing her cracker.

"She's planning on coming back to the states in early September," Beca said. "I told her I'd have to discuss it with you first. It's a ways off so we have plenty of time before we have to give her an answer."

"Why wait?" Chloe asked with a laugh. "She's a Bella and she's family. We both know she'll be staying here. You could have just told her yes when you were talking to her."

"I know," Beca said. "But she called right after Dr. Matthews called to tell me I was pregnant. And I was too excited to say much of anything to her. I'll tell her she can stay with us, but she has to be out by the time the baby gets here. I'll tell her after we let the Bellas know I'm pregnant."

"That's a good idea," Chloe said. "How and when are we going to tell the Bellas?"

"We can tell them once I hit the three-month mark," Beca suggested. "Everyone is scattered all over and the easiest way to tell everyone at once is on a Skype or Zoom call."

"I like that idea," Chloe said, biting on her lower lip. "So, um, speaking of the baby, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"You're not sorry I'm the one carrying it are you?" Beca asked, her voice tinged with concern. "You're still okay with that, right?"

"Of course, I'm okay with it," Chloe said, turning Beca's hand to intertwine their fingers. "I promise, everything's fine. In fact, everything's perfect. I've never been happier."

"Then what do you want to talk about?"

"I was hoping that I could put in my notice at the end of this school year," Chloe said, looking down at their intertwined hands. "I really want to be a stay-at-home mom."

"I thought you liked your job," Beca said.

"I love my job," Chloe said, lifting her eyes to look at Beca. "I just love the idea of being a stay-at-home mom more."

Chloe sighed and ran her free hand through her hair. "I want to be involved in every aspect of our kid growing up. I hope that's okay."

"It's more than okay with me," Beca said, smiling at Chloe. "I don't want our kids raised by nannies. I'm actually envious of you. If you made more money as a teacher, I'd quit my job and stay at home with the baby myself."

"I'm so glad you're okay with me quitting and staying at home," Chloe squealed and threw herself onto Beca, causing Beca to fall back onto the bed with Chloe on top of her.

"I guess we're done eating," Beca said, raising her head to capture Chloe's lips in a kiss.

"Maybe you are," Chloe said against Beca's lips. "But I'm just getting started."

"Oh, okay," Beca said as Chloe moved her lips to Beca's jaw and then down her neck. "Mmmm!"

Chloe continued dropping kisses down Beca's body. After momentarily stopping to give some attention to each of Beca's breasts, Chloe kissed Beca's stomach and continued moving down, causing Beca's hips to lift off the bed when Chloe's tongue found its mark.

"Yes!" Beca cried out, moaning again as she spread her legs to give Chloe more room.

~~ My Spy ~~

A month later, Beca and Chloe were enjoying a quiet evening at home. Beca had just completed arrangements to have a Zoom call with the Bellas to tell them about Beca's pregnancy.

"We're scheduled to do a Zoom videoconference with the Bellas on Saturday," Beca said. "It's confirmed for ten in the morning to accommodate for the time difference in Mykonos for Aubrey."

"Okay," Chloe said. "I want to call Aunt Peggy and tell her today if that's okay with you?"

"Is everything okay?" Beca asked, looking at Chloe.

"What do you mean? Everything's fine."

"You act like you need my permission to do stuff," Beca said. "You know you don't need my permission to call Aunt Peggy or do anything else you want, right? I love you and trust your judgment without question."

"I'm sorry," Chloe said, wringing her hands. "I'm just really nervous about the whole pregnancy and becoming a mom thing."

"I'm nervous about all of it, too," Beca admitted, smiling softly. "But, I'm also very excited about it. We're going to be the best moms ever. Now, let's call Aunt Peggy and tell her the news, okay?"

"Okay," Chloe said, pulling out her phone. "I love you. You know that, right?"

"Of course, I know that," Beca said, pulling Chloe into a kiss. "I love you, too. Now, stop stalling and call Aunt Peggy."

"Yes, ma'am," Chloe said and placed the call.

"Chloe, dear, how are you?" Peggy's voice came through the phone. "How's Beca?"

"We're both good," Chloe said. "We have some news to tell you."

"Oh," Peggy said. "Who's pregnant? You or Beca?"

"Beca is," Chloe said. "But, uh, how, um, how could you possibly know that's what I was going to tell you? We never told you we were trying."

"I'm so happy and excited for you," Aunt Peggy said, ignoring the question. "When is Beca due? Are you going to find out the sex? Do you have names picked out?"

Chloe laughed. "Slow down," she said. "The baby is due in November and we haven't discussed finding out the sex. So, no names have been picked out either."

"I can't wait to tell your Uncle Matt," Peggy said. "I'm sure he'll be as thrilled as I am."

Beca walked to stand next to Chloe, causing her to look at Beca.

"Ask her if they want to come here for Thanksgiving," Beca whispered. "And meet the baby."

Chloe nodded and said, "Aunt Peggy, we know it's a few months off, but Beca wants to know if you guys want to come here for Thanksgiving. I mean, the baby should be here by then and it would be the perfect time for you to meet him. Or her."

"I'd love that," Peggy said. "And I don't see any reason why we couldn't, but I'll talk to your Uncle Matt and let you know for sure."

"Okay," Chloe said. "Give Uncle Matt our best. We love you."

"We love you, too," Peggy said. "Congratulations and I'll talk to you soon. Bye, Chloe."

"Bye, Aunt Peggy," Chloe said and ended the call.

"So?" Beca prompted.

"She thinks they'll be here," Chloe said. "She needs to check with Uncle Matt and she'll let us know for sure."

~~ My Spy ~~

Saturday morning found Beca and Chloe sitting in front of Beca's laptop waiting for the Bellas to join the Zoom call. Beca was chewing her thumbnail as her leg bounced up and down. Chloe reached over and gently placed a hand on Beca's leg.

"I'm sorry," Beca said. "I'm just so nervous. I know they'll be happy for us."

"It's okay, babe," Chloe said. "It will be fine."

Chloe leaned in and kissed Beca. As she started to pull back, Beca grabbed her behind the head and held her in place while she deepened the kiss. Chloe put her hands on Beca's waist and melted into the kiss.

The laptop pinged indicating people were joining the call. Beca and Chloe looked at the screen to see that several of the girls were smiling back at them.

"Oh, um, hey guys," Beca said, blushing as she gently pushed Chloe from her. "We, um, we'll wait until everyone is on before we get started, okay?"

Chloe sat back and took Beca's hand in hers.

"Okay," Jessica and Ashley said.

Emily, Flo, and Aubrey all nodded to signify their agreement.

"Hey, Pitches!" Amy yelled out from the screen.

"Glad you could join us, Amy," Beca said. "Oh, hey, Stacie. Will we get to see Bella, too?"

"Not today," Stacie said. "She's with my mom."

"That's too bad," Emily said.

CR and Lily joined the call and it looked as if everyone was connected.

"Beca, I think we're all here now," Aubrey said, getting everyone's attention. "So, what's going on?"

"Are one of you pregnant?" Stacie asked, causing Beca's head to snap over and look at her through the screen.

"There's no surprising anyone is there?" Beca huffed to Chloe.

Chloe smiled and kissed her cheek. She turned toward the screen and said, "Beca's pregnant and she's due in November."

"That's aca-awesome," Aubrey said. "Congratulations!"

"Yeah, congratulations you guys," Emily squealed.

"I knew it!" Stacie yelled.

"Maybe we should invite whoever wants to come for Thanksgiving here," Chloe leaned in and whispered in Beca's ear. "Make it a real family affair."

"Should we?"

"Yeah. We can have Thanksgiving together and they can meet the baby, too."

"Sounds like a-"

"What are you two whispering about?" Amy asked, causing all the girls to stare at Beca and Chloe through their computer screens.

"Um, we were just talking and wanted to know if any of you can or want to come here for Thanksgiving," Chloe said. "We'll supply all the food and you can all meet the baby. He or she should be here by then."

"I'd love to," CR said. "Can't wait to meet Baby Beale."

"I'll already be there," Amy said.

Emily squealed and accepted the invitation.

"I accept, too," Aubrey said. "I'll be coming back to the U.S. in October, so I can be in LA for Thanksgiving."

The rest of the Bellas accepted and they agreed to discuss it further as time got closer.

~~ My Spy ~~

Chloe's last day of teaching was bittersweet. She loved her students and had become friends with several of the teachers. The day was over and her students had given her flowers and all hugged her as they were leaving.

Chloe was looking around the room one last time, ensuring she hadn't forgotten anything, when Sandy Clark, one of the teachers, walked in carrying a bottle of champagne.

"We can't have you leaving without a little celebration," Sandy said, waving the champagne toward Chloe. "Come with me. The others are waiting in the Teacher's Lounge."

Chloe smiled and followed Sandy out the door.

"Surprise!" Everyone yelled as soon as Chloe entered the room.

Chloe gasped and placed her hand over her heart.

"You guys!" Chloe exclaimed, looking around the room at the decorations.

Not only were they giving her a going-away party, but they were also combining it with a baby shower.

"Beca!" Chloe squealed, seeing Beca standing at the back of the group.

"Hey," Beca said as Chloe pulled her into a quick kiss.

"I thought you were in the studio all day," Chloe said.

"I actually worked from home until I had to leave to come to this," Beca said, chuckling. "Eleanor over there was quite persuasive in her instance that I be here. They pulled the loud surprise on me when I walked in, too."

Chloe looked over at Eleanor and smiled.

"We can't have a baby shower without both mothers, can we?" Eleanor said.

"This is all so amazing," Chloe said.

"Here," Sandy said, handing Chloe a glass of champagne.

Chloe took the glass and looked at Beca.

"Go ahead," Beca said. "I took a Lyft so I could ride home with you. Drink up and I'll drive us both home."

"God, I love you," Chloe said, kissing Beca and then taking a sip of champagne.

"Here you go, Beca," Eleanor said, handing Beca a ginger ale. "Some bubbly for the little mama without actually drinking the bubbly."

Beca laughed and took the drink. "Thank you."

"Okay, everyone," Eleanor said. "Eat up so we can get to the presents!"

Everyone started chattering and making their plates. Chloe made a plate for her and Beca to share. Beca had made plans to take Chloe out to celebrate her last day of work and they didn't want to spoil their dinner.

Once everyone had their fill, Sandy and Eleanor gathered everyone around Beca and Chloe.

"Chloe," Sandy said, holding out a box wrapped in pink and blue bunnies. "This is from me."

Chloe took the box and handed it to Beca.

"Babe, why don't you open it?"

"Let's open it together," Beca said.

She and Chloe pulled at the paper and opened the box.

Everyone 'oohed' and 'awwed' over the onesies in the box.

"They're so small," Beca exclaimed as she held them up.

~~ My Spy ~~

Amy moved to LA but did not stay with Beca and Chloe. She found and bought a home online.

"You bought a house without seeing it first?" Beca asked as she spoke to Amy on the phone.

"I saw the pictures, Beca," Amy said. "It has everything I was looking for. And the fact that it's only two blocks from you is an added bonus."

"When do you move in?"

"At the end of September," Amy said. "I'll just be traveling until then. I've hired a decorator and will have everything already set up when I move in. I won't have to worry about any of that normal moving stuff."

Beca chuckled. "I can't wait to see it. And you. I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too. And, don't worry, I'll send you an invite to my epic housewarming party," Amy said. "Gotta go, my date's here."

"Have fun," Beca said, ending the call.

~~ My Spy ~~

Summer quickly faded into Fall and Beca's pregnancy advanced as it should. Regular checkups indicated that all was going well.

Chloe didn't have work anymore so she kept herself busy by working on the nursery. It was her pet project and she was trying to make it perfect for their soon-to-be addition to the family. Her biggest decision to date was what color to paint the walls. The couple had opted not to find out the sex of the baby; they wanted to be surprised so Chloe was looking for a neutral color.

Early one Wednesday morning in late October, Chloe was startled awake by the ringing of her phone. She heard and felt Beca stirring beside her and quickly grabbed the phone off the nightstand.

"Hello," Chloe croaked out in answering the phone.

"Chloe?"

"Yeah?"

"This is Carol Baxter," the voice said. "I'm sorry for calling so early but, I was wondering if you would be willing to come in and substitute for Sandy's class?"

"Is she okay?" Chloe asked, sitting up in bed.

"Her father passed away last night and she has to go to Wisconsin," Carol said. "She thinks she'll be gone for a week. I just need you to sub for today while I find someone to take the rest of the time she's out."

"I'll do it," Chloe said. "And I can do the whole week."

"Are you sure?" Carol asked.

"Yes, I'm sure," Chloe said, getting out of bed. "I'll be there by eight."

"Thank you, so much, Chloe," Carol said. "I certainly do appreciate it. I know the kids and teachers will love seeing you again."

"Thank you, Carol," Chloe said. "I'll see you in a few hours."

"What's going on?" Beca asked as soon as Chloe ended the call.

"Carol asked me to sub for Sandy," Chloe said. "Sandy's dad passed away and she has to go out of town for a week."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Beca mumble sleepily. "I don't have to be in the studio for a few more hours. I think I'm going to go back to bed for a while."

Chloe went to Beca's side of the bed and leaned down to kiss Beca.

"Have a good day," Chloe said. "I'll see you when you get home."

Late that day, Beca came home to find Chloe sitting on the couch with papers all around. Beca joined Chloe and moved some of the papers so she could sit down.

"What's going on here?" Beca asked, looking at one of the papers.

"Just grading some papers," Chloe said, smiling. "It was great seeing everyone today. I missed them."

"Are you rethinking your decision to quit?"

"God, no," Chloe said quickly. "I'm all in to be a stay-at-home mom. Seeing the kids today made me even more excited about our own kids. Watching them grow and go off to school. Helping with their homework. Being there for their first steps, first words, all their firsts. I don't want to miss any of that."

"I love how much you love me and our baby," Beca said, smiling.

"I do love you both," Chloe said, pulling Beca into a kiss. "Very much."

Chloe kept her arm around Beca's shoulders, and Beca snuggled into her side.

"What's for dinner?" Beca asked.

~~ My Spy ~~

October moved into November and Chloe was becoming a nervous wreck. Every time Beca so much as groaned or put her hand to her stomach, Chloe was by her side to make sure she was okay.

After about the fiftieth time in a week of this happening, Beca was becoming frustrated.

"Babe," Beca said the next time it happened. "I'm fine. You need to relax. All this checking on me is making me frustrated and anxious. That's not good for me or the baby. So, please, if you love me, you'll relax, okay?"

"I'm sorry," Chloe said, shaking out her hands. "I'm just so nervous about everything. I mean, the nursery is ready and we have all the big stuff we need. But, what about the little stuff? Do we have enough diapers for when we bring the baby home? Do we need more bottles? Can we-"

"Babe," Beca interrupted, with a gentle smile. "We're ready. I promise. We have everything we need to start out and can get whatever else we need when the need arises."

"You're right," Chloe said, taking a deep breath and letting it out. "I'll relax and let mother nature take its course."

"Thank you," Beca said.

Chloe kept her promise until Beca's due date came and went. Chloe became anxious again and Beca had enough the Saturday before Thanksgiving.

"Chloe," Beca said. "I made a list of things we need for Thanksgiving dinner. Would you mind doing the grocery shopping today? I want to make some dishes in advance so we can enjoy having everyone here and not be in the kitchen all day."

"Sure, babe," Chloe said. "Will you be okay by yourself while I'm gone?"

"Yes, Chloe," Beca said. "I'll be fine. I'll keep my phone on me and call you if anything happens, okay?"

Chloe breathed in through her nose and chewed her lip. "Okay, I'll go. But you'd better keep your phone on you and call me if you so much as feel a twinge."

Beca smiled as she leaned in to kiss Chloe. "I promise."

Chloe had been gone about an hour and was in the middle of the grocery store when her phone rang. She quickly pulled it out expecting to see Beca's name on the caller ID; instead, it was Amy's.

"Amy?" Chloe answered the call. "What-"

"Chloe, you have to get to the hospital," Amy blurted out.

"What?" Chloe asked, stopping her cart in the middle of the aisle.

"Beca's at the hospital," Amy said. "She's in labor and she's shouting for you."

"What hospital?" Chloe asked, abandoning her cart and sprinting toward the exit.

"LA Presbyterian," Amy said. "You'd better hurry."

"I'm on my way," Chloe said, unlocking the car door. "Tell her I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"Okay," Amy said. "See you soon."

Chloe drove calmly but quickly to the hospital. She pulled into the parking lot and rushed inside to the main desk.

"I'm Chloe Beale," Chloe told the receptionist. "My wife was just brought in. She's in labor."

"One moment, ma'am," the receptionist said. "What's your wife's name?"

"Chloe!"

Chloe jerked her head around to see Amy and several of the Bellas standing a few feet away.

"Thank goodness, you're here," Emily said as she rushed over to Chloe, grabbing her arm. "Come on."

Chloe rushed off with Emily and joined the other girls.

"Are Beca and the baby okay?" Chloe asked.

"We haven't heard anything yet," Aubrey said.

"How are you all here?" Chloe asked, looking around at everyone.

"We all came early to give you guys a surprise Baby Shower," Jessica replied. "Turns out, we were the ones who were surprised."

"Yeah," Ashley said. "We went to your house and Beca answered doubled over and told us she was in labor. Everything started happening so fast."

"We thought we were going to be delivering the baby ourselves," Stacie said.

"Family of Rebeca Beale?" a voice called out, causing all the girls to turn toward the sound.

"Um, I'm her wife," Chloe said, stepping forward.

"I'm Dr. Johnson," the man said. "Congratulations, you have a son."

The girls gathered around Chloe and started chatting and oohing and awwing over the fact that Beca and Chloe had a son.

Chloe's eyes were wide as she stood there stunned. "I have a son?"

"Yes," Dr. Johnson said. "Would you like to see your wife and son?"

Chloe swallowed and nodded her head.

"Follow me," Dr. Johnson said, smiling at Chloe.

Chloe followed Dr. Johnson and entered the room where he held the door open for her.

"Chloe!" Beca cried out. "We have a son."

"I heard," Chloe said, as she rushed over to Beca's bedside.

Chloe looked down at the newborn cradled in Beca's arms. Tears started streaming down her face.

"He's beautiful," Chloe whispered in awe. "And, so tiny."

Chloe sniffled and wiped at the tears on her face.

"I can't believe I missed his birth," Chloe said.

"I'm sorry," Beca said, reaching up to cup Chloe's face. "It all happened so fast. If the Bellas hadn't shown up when they did, I might have had him on our living room floor."

Chloe chuckled as she sat on the side of the bed, her eyes never leaving the baby. "That would have been quite the story to tell."

"So," Beca said. "What are we going to name him?"

"Can we name him after my dad?" Chloe asked.

"I'd love that," Beca said, looking down at the baby. "He looks a bit like a William. Or maybe a Billy."

"Billy Beale," Chloe said, looking down as the baby stretched and yawned in Beca's arms. "I think he likes it."

Beca looked down at her son and said, "Billy Beale I'd like to introduce you to your mama." Beca then turned to look up at Chloe. "Mama, meet your son, William "Billy" Beale."

Chloe gently took the baby from Beca and bounced him lightly in her arms.

"Hello, son," Chloe whispered.

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

A/N: I know, I know, I left it open-ended because I really like this AU and I may come back to them later for some holiday one-shots.

Thanks for sticking with me to the end. This is not goodbye, it's just ta-ta for now.

#bechloe fanfiction #bechloe #beca mitchell #pitch perfect #bechloeislegit

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