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trashyswitch · 3 years

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The Real Truth About Being a Giant

Part 2 of The Underrated Upside Of Being a Giant.

Patton grows more and more distressed after he starts growing bigger. Logan struggles to know what to do, so he brings Virgil over to help poor Patton out.

This prompt was suggested by @unabashedcalzoneflowermaker on Tumblr. Thank you for the suggestion and I hope you enjoy the sequel!

Patton groaned in his sleep. His blankets were only partly on his body and nothing he did could fully fix it. He was also in slight pain. It felt like either muscle stiffness, or growing pains. He couldn’t tell which one it was. It wasn’t unbearable. Heck, it wasn’t even worth mentioning! But it was just enough to remind him and annoy him. His eyes were growing more and more heavy the longer he focused on his muscle pain and soon, before he knew it:

He was out like a light.

The poor man had no clue just how long he had been sleeping for. By the time he had woken up, the daylight was just starting to dim bit by bit. Patton soon opened his eyes and groaned a little bit. The growing pains were still there. They weren’t nearly as strong, but they were still there. Patton got himself up and stretched his body out. He stretched his arms out, and opened his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was how...tall he felt in his bed. This view of the room made him feel more taller than he was. Why did his view change? Why did he feel taller whenever he looked around? Not only that, but Patton could notice that his feet were peeking out close to the edge of the bed. The blanket bump of his feet was almost sliding off the bed. Before he went to bed, Patton’s feet were a good 2 feet away from the edge of the bed. But now, they were right at the edge, almost dangling off the edge. What happened?

Patton looked at his hands and feet, and decided to get himself up. Patton pulled the blankets off himself, sat himself on the edge of the bed, and finally noticed his shadow reflecting off the wall beside him. Wait a second...His shadow was bigger than he remembered. Either that, or the room is growing smaller. Could it be...both? Was he growing more?! As one final test, Patton stood up and reached his arms up into the air. He tested to see how far he was to touching the roof and to Patton’s disbelief: his hands laid flat against the ceiling.

No...NO! NOOO! “GUYS! LOGAN? VIRGIL? I NEED HELP!” Patton shouted.

He had grown taller overnight! That explains the pain he was feeling the night before! Patton immediately felt his eyes well up with tears. Why was this happening? Was Patton gonna outgrow his house at this rate? What will happen if he can’t fit in his house anymore? Will...Will Patton have to sleep out in the streets or in a forest?

Logan came sprinting over. “What happened- oooh. I see…” Logan muttered. Patton whimpered and sniffed. Upon hearing that, Logan ran up and hugged him. Logan was a couple feet shorter than him, but it still felt like a secure hug nonetheless. “I can see how distressing it is to be growing. Especially when you wanted to be shrinking.” Logan told him.

Patton whimpered again and nodded. When they broke away from the hug, Patton removed his glasses and wiped the tears away.

“However, we can be thankful that your glasses have grown along with your body throughout this process.” Logan mentioned.

Patton bit his lip and looked away, but nodded. He supposed that’s true.

Logan could tell it was gonna be hard to calm down after this experience. Patton’s pants had become capri pants, and his shirt was now a longer crop top. Noticing the crop top ended up giving Logan an idea. But, he would’ve had to wait a while before he executed it.

“Let’s sit down.” Logan suggested. Patton nodded and sat down. “Do you want Virgil here?” Logan asked.

Patton immediately nodded. “Yes please.”

Logan got up and walked out to the kitchen. There, Virgil was eating a chocolate chip like a giant kisses piece. “Can you come help? Patton grew again.” Logan asked.

Virgil choked on his chocolate. “What?!” Virgil put down the chocolate chip and jumped into Logan’s hand. “How?!” Virgil asked.

“Patton was 5.6 feet. Now, he’s roughly 7.6 feet.” Logan told him.

Virgil widened his eyes. “Oh no.”

Logan walked himself and Virgil over to the room and sat down. Logan placed Virgil onto Patton’s knees. “Delivery for Patton.”

Patton looked down and smiled for the first time that morning. “Hi Virgil.” Patton’s smile didn’t last long as he realized just how much smaller Virgil looked compared to Patton. “You...You’re too small now.” Patton told him, his eyes welling up with tears again.

Virgil climbed up Patton and hugged him. Patton smiled a bit and hugged him back. “It’s okay, Patton. I still love you, giant or not.” Virgil told him.

Patton nodded his head, but was still feeling down.

“Wanna know something?” Virgil asked. Patton nodded. “No one is ever going to be able to get onto your level.” Virgil told him. Patton chuckled and hugged him more. Patton started petting Virgil’s back with his finger, causing Virgil to melt into the touch. Soon, Virgil climbed right onto Patton’s shoulder and climbed onto his head. “Look! I’m taller than you!” Virgil declared.

Patton smiled and giggled a little. “Yup. At this rate, you’re gonna be taller than I’ll ever be.” Patton told him. Virgil laughed and jumped into Patton’s shirt. “Hey! What do you think you’re dohohoihihing- WAHAHAHAIT! NAHAHAHAT AHAHAGAHAHAHAIN!” Patton laughed.

Virgil popped out from the bottom of the shirt. “Yes again! You need more love and laughter in your life! And if jokes don’t work, I will tickle it out of you.” Virgil told him.

Patton shook his head. “Ihihi’m gohohonna gehet yohohohou fihihirst, you little buhuhuggeheher!” Patton warned, reaching for him. Virgil quickly hid inside his shirt and blew a raspberry onto the side of his belly button. “NoooOOOOHOHOHOHO!” Patton laughed. “Ihihihi feheheheel lihihike yohohou’re a tihihiny puhuhurrihihing kihihihittyhyhyhyhy!” Patton giggled.

Virgil eyed up Logan, who had left the room and kept the door open a crack. Then, Virgil smirked at Patton. “That’s good. I want you to feel my loving kitty purrs.” He blew another little raspberry onto the left side of his belly button and tickled inside the belly button. Patton giggled and laughed under him. But, Virgil wasn’t done.

“Hey Patton!” Virgil called.

Patton looked down. “Yeheheheah?”

Virgil giggled. “I can fit in your belly button better! Before the belly button was a bit snug. But now:” Virgil crawled into his belly button and hung out inside it. “I can fit perfectly inside it!”

Patton squealed and giggled loudly as he kicked his feet. He was soooo mean! How dare he sneak himself in his belly button again! Patton grabbed his ball-tipped pen and removed the shirt from his belly, revealing Virgil. Then, Patton started poking and tickling Virgil’s tiny belly with the pen.

Virgil squealed and grabbed the pen with his hand. “Nuh-uh. No way.” Virgil warned. But, he had a smirk on his face that told him otherwise. So, Patton used Virgil’s grip to his advantage and lifted Virgil right out of his belly button! Then, Patton laid him down onto his abs and started poking his belly again. “P-Pahatton, nooo!”

Patton smirked and kept poking him and lightly scritching the pen around. “Tickle tickle!”

Virgil grabbed the end of the pen again and pushed against it. “Noooooo! Stohohop!” Virgil ordered.

Patton giggled. “Why should I when it’s what you want?” Patton asked.

Virgil finally let go of the pen and stretched himself out. “Fihihine. Buhuhut behehe cahaharefuhul-”

Virgil gasped and squeaked suddenly! Did-Did Patton just happen to find his belly button?! To make matters worse (or better), Patton had a huge grin on his face. “Pat...Doooon’t you dare go for my belly button. I’m warning you!” Virgil warned.

Patton poked his belly button anyway, and caused Virgil to burst out laughing. “I thought the point of tickle attacks was that threats just hide your secret love for being tickled?” Patton asked.

“NOHOHOT TRUHUHUHUE!” Virgil yelled back.

Patton lifted an eyebrow and removed the pen. Virgil’s laughter turned to giggles, but his giggles couldn’t hide the look of hurt on his face. His face could perfectly read ‘Why would you stop? Why do you do such hurtful things to me?’. Patton just bursted out laughing at that and resumed tickling his belly button. “What did I tell ya?” Patton teased. “You love it just as much as I do!”

Virgil wiggled and squirmed around, yet managed to keep himself from curling up or covering his stomach in any way. “IHIHIHIHI- OHOHOKAHAHAHAY YEHEHEHEHEAH, YOHOHOHOU’RE RIHIHIHIGHT.” Virgil replied.

Patton laughed. “I KNEW IT!” Patton declared proudly. “The whole world must know! VIRGIL THE TINY SIDE LIKES BEING TICKLED!” Patton declared even louder.

Virgil kicked his legs wildly. “SHUHUHUHUT UHUHUHUHUHUP! PAHAHATTOHOHON DOHOHOES TOHOHOHO!” Virgil yelled back.

Patton gasped in offense, but quickly giggled. “You’re right. I do!” Patton replied before resuming his tickle attack.

Virgil laughed and rolled back and forth on his abs. It tickled so much! How could a single pen tickle this much?

It took a while, But Virgil soon remembered something: He was laying on top of Patton’s abs which were right near his belly! He could easily tickle his belly and abs to get him to stop and finally get revenge! So, Virgil did just that: He rolled onto his belly, tickled his abs with both his hands and blew a raspberry onto his abs as well.

Patton squealed and giggled happily. “HEhehehehey! Hohohohow dahahahare!” Patton giggled.

Virgil just blew yet another raspberry onto his abs. “Oh, I dare!”

Patton covered his mouth and muffled his happy giggles as he lightly kicked his heels against the ground. “Ihihihihit tihihihihihicklehehehes!” Patton told him.

Virgil got up onto his knees and blew a BIG raspberry onto his belly! “Really? I’m surprised someone as big as you, would be so affected by something as ticklish as this:” Virgil blew his 5th of 6th raspberry in the last 25 minutes, right onto his abs again.

Patton bursted into giggle snorts almost immediately, and shook his head back and forth. “YOHOHOHOUR RAHAHAHASPBEHEHERRIHIHIES TIHIHIHICKLE MOHOHORE THAHAHAN YOHOHOU THIHIHINK!” Patton yelled back at him.

“Oh really?” Virgil teased.

“YEHEHEHEHEHEHESSSS! WOHOHOHOULD IHIHI LIHIHIHIE TOHOHO YOHOHOHOU?!” Patton asked him.

Virgil giggled. “No. I suppose you wouldn’t. Unless:” Virgil grabbed Patton’s pen from his hand and held it like a wooden fighting stick.

“Nooooo! Myhy pehehen!” Patton whined. “Gihihive it bahahack!”

“No. It’s my precious now.” Virgil started using the pen to his advantage and started poking the point of the pen on his belly and in his belly button.

��HEHEhehehey nohOHOHOW- VIhihirgihiHIHIL STAhahahaHAHAHAP ihihihiHIHIT! IHIHihihihit tihIHIHIhihihIHIHICKLehehes!” Patton giggled and laughed.

“Really? It tickles? A pen is capable of tickling someone? Who woulda thunk?” Virgil teased.

Patton just laughed more at that reply.

“You know what I think would tickle more?” Virgil asked. Patton shook his head. “No?! Well I am hurt!” Virgil reacted. “Well, I’m gonna tell you anyway because screw you.” Virgil cleared his throat. “What I was gonna say, was that:” Virgil walked up to Patton’s belly button and started dipping the pen in. “trying to color the inside of your belly button with the pen, would tickle so much more!” Virgil teased.

Patton yelped in horror and quickly grabbed Virgil. “Nohohoho! Nohoho wahahahay yohohou’re dohohoing that!” Patton warned.

Virgil just smirked. “I thought the point of tickle attacks was that threats just hide your secret love for being tickled?” Virgil quoted perfectly.

Patton widened his eyes and dropped his jaw. Did Virgil just quote him?!

Virgil quickly jumped into Patton’s belly button and started coloring in the bottom of it. Patton’s belly button was more flat, meaning he was perfectly capable of doing this. The pen’s ink would often cut off, but Virgil didn’t care about that. The point of this whole endeavor was that it’s supposed to tickle like crazy!

Patton threw his head back and laughed hysterically through the entire thing. This was just like the last time: he was too afraid to buck or squirm around because he might wind up hurting the tiny man. But Virgil wasn’t afraid of that. Virgil was being just as careful.

Virgil was also being careful that he didn’t overdo his tickle attack and cause Patton to pass out. That would be the last thing he would wanna do to him. He was trying to cheer Patton up! Not make him suffer!

So, Virgil stopped tickling him and soon crawled out of Patton’s belly button. Patton was a mess of panting and giggling, and his giggles only increased from Virgil walking on the giant. Patton looked up for a few seconds, and wrapped a finger around Virgil’s back.

Virgil, feeling excited for a back rub, laid his head down and got comfy. And just as Virgil predicted, Patton started rubbing and massaging his back with his finger. It felt so nice! Virgil melted to the touch almost immediately and even eventually started purring! Patton giggled at the purring feeling on his belly and continued his back rubbing for a little while as he laid there. Patton’s giggling was slightly shaking Virgil, causing a type of comfy, moving bed for the little guy.

Virgil was in heaven. And Patton was giggly and all cheered up! What better ending could you ask for?

Soon enough, Logan walked into the room with both boys asleep. He put a blanket onto Patton’s legs, and placed a tinier blanket onto Virgil. Finally, Logan left the boys to sleep in the room and continued on with his day.

#giant patton #tiny virgil #giant logan #angst and hurt/comfort #family fluff #ticklefic #switch!patton #switch!virgil

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cockasinthebird · 4 years

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Stuck? Stuck.

This year for the senior weekend trip, Hawkins High students gets to enjoy a lovely stay at a hotel so cheap it's a risky gamble to even set foot there, and a Saturday trip to the Indianapolis Museum of Art, to which absolutely everyone is equally excited about.

Which is not at all.

Steve groans and sits up in the hard bed he has to sleep in for two whole nights, sharing his room with three other guys from his year that he swears he has never ever seen before, despite them all knowing his name and history quite well.

The drive here hadn't been that long, although it felt like hours, nerve ridden and anxious to not sleep in the safety of his own haunted mansion. Sure it's nice to be surrounded by people on all sides if he were to tell the truth, but...

Billy fucking Hargrove had been staring at him all day, sat two rows behind on the bus, and whenever Steve turned to look, he was met with an icy stare and suspicious grin. Billy had even actively gone out of his way to bump into Steve, push him around and kick his bags away, to which Tommy had laughed and patted Billy on the back, that fucking traitor. Sure they hadn't talked since after the fight with Jonathan, but Steve didn't know their friendship had been so fragile.

With an exhausted sigh and jittery hands, Steve carefully closes the door to his room, then heads down the hallway to find the elevator. He can never sleep when he's away from home, yet Dustin had convinced him that this is a great idea! Get out and have some fun! People always hook up on those senior trips! And then he did that Chewbacca wanna purr of a sound, prompting Steve to push his cap down his face.

The elevator climbs slowly up to his floor as he thumbs his lighter, on and off, on and off. Who here would he even hook up with that he hasn't already before he got together with Nancy? And now that they're over and Billy is running the school instead, Steve's odds had fallen even farther into the pits of hell.

He just needs to get out for a smoke, and maybe flirt his way to a drink or two at the sleazy bar; this place doesn't look like it cares about serving minors alcohol, what with the water stained ceiling and floor, the peeling tape, and the creaky as shit elevator, as it barely can manage a ding once it reaches the 4th level.

It whines just the same as he steps inside and feels it bounce dangerously underneath his weight. It requires several attempts and hard jabs from Steve before the ground floor button registers his attempts, and starts closing.

When just in the last second, strong fingers curl around the rusty metal and pries open the doors again.

That grin, those curls, the sun-kissed skin.

Billy fucking Hargrove.

“Where you off to, Harrington?” he asks with a flash of predatory teeth and steps into the limited space.

Suddenly Steve is feeling hot and claustrophobic, heart racing both from the presence of his enemy, and from the fear that the elevator might not be able to support both their weights.

“Why the fuck should I tell you?” he snaps and does his best not to meet those blue skies that just won't give him the same courtesy of pretending the other doesn't exist.

“Could be you wanted some company,” Billy says with a low tone that hints at something secret and suggestive.

“And why are you up?” Steve doesn't really care to know, but thoughts of why Billy might be up and about this late flows freely. There would only be one reason, and maybe it's the second floor where all the girls are located.

But he doesn't press the 2nd floor button. Simply puts his hands in his denim jacket and leans with his back against the wall.

“Oh you know exactly why I'm awake this late, princess,” Billy drawls out and licks his lips.

Which Steve doesn't notice, if anyone were to ask. He pulls up a cigarette from the back he has stashed in his back pocket, and slips it between his lips to save time once they're able to get away from each other again.

Yet it's gone just as quick, as Billy reaches out and snags it away, just to place it beneath his mustache. And Steve stares daggers at him, all too quickly he's angry, but really it takes no time with Hargrove around, as his mere presence in Steve's life in a constant source of pain and fury.

“What the fuck you asshole, give it back!” Steve frowns and clenches his fist with a strong urge to punch. It's been too long since he's felt the bliss of nicotine, and he can feel it in his blood. “Get your own shitty cigarettes.”

“Why don't you come over here and take it, then?” Billy muses with a cocky grin that goes from ear to ear.

“Yeah yeah, very mature, give me my fucking cigarette back, Hargrove. I'm almost out of smokes and patience with you.” Steve turns to stare at him now, a few feet apart filled with air so tense you could cut it with a fucking butter knife.

“Well that was quick,” comes the response as a mean spirited chuckle.

“Oh don't be like that; you've been harassing me all fucking day you shit!” And Steve steps closer, up to where he can feel Hargrove's breathing. “What is your deal with me?”

Billy lifts up his chin, looking all brash and smug. “Do I have to one?”

“Why else would you be making my life a living hell?” Steve's fists clench tighter. “Isn't it bad enough you stole my best friend and 'knocked me off my throne'?” he says with possibly the most infuriated air-quotes anyone could ever manage.

“Nope.” Short and crude, the p popping loudly despite the cigarette caught between teeth.

“Then what the fuck do you want?!”

And as Billy's grin somehow grows more sinister, he doesn't get to answer before there's an abrupt jump of the elevator and a nerve wrecking screech.

The loud whir of cogs and mechanics silent. The elevator has stopped.

“Are... are we...” Steve dares not say, as if that would make it real and not just his imagination.

Billy shoves Steve away and steps over to press a button, any button, and when there's no response, tries a second button, then a third, then every other option there. Punches the keys over and over and over-

“Fucking stop that! You're just making it all worse!” Steve shouts and grabs on to Billy's sleeve to tear him away.

“Oh like you know how a fucking elevator works!” Billy snarls back and pushes Steve hard for having even dared to touch him. “I know your grades, I've heard the questions you ask in class, I bet even Max could answer half the shit you can't!”

Steve doesn't even have time to think before he flings his fist after Billy, who catches it perfectly on the nose. Cigarette flies from his mouth, blood drips onto the sticky floor, onto Billy's dirty boots and his clean, white tee. And he continues being unable to think, as Billy fucking laughs.

“God damn Harrington, I can't believe you had the guts to do that,” he sounds near insane as he talks, swipes his tongue up to lick his upper lip clean of dark red. “You know you're gonna regret that now, right?”

“According to you I don't know shit.” Steve stands with his feet too far apart, shoulders raised and fists aching for more. As much as he would prefer not to fight, since he always gets his ass kicked, the rush of seeing blood flow from Billy's nose is invigorating.

No matter how prepared he thinks he is, Billy's fist still feels like a goddamn boulder against his eye, and barely has Steve staggered backwards at the brute force, before Billy grabs him by the collar of his striped polo and shoves him into a corner; caging him there with his own broad, muscular shape.

“You punch like a girl, Stevie,” his voice low and... oddly sensuous?

He reeks of cologne, teeth sharp and perfect like a wolf, body sturdy and thick, pressed into Steve with such intent that he can feel every inch of power.

“What are you gonna do now, Harrington?” Billy's chuckles like thunder in his chest as they stay flush together.

Steve feels his heart beat in his swelling eye, lumping in his throat, beating against his ribs like xylophones, and somewhere between his legs. Red really is a great color on Billy's lips.

“What are my options?” he groans out and wants to move away from the insufferable heat that's gathering too far down.

Eyes jump around every one of Billy's strong features, looking like a damn model from afar and up close like this. Jaw square and stubbly, an ocean's view in his eyes, a thousand eyelashes that he doesn't deserve to have, freckles like a starry night that he didn't even know existed on Billy's perfect skin, lips so hopelessly inviting despite the wicked grin.

And maybe Billy catches how he's being admired right now, because his smile falters to a slightly slack jaw. “Doesn't seem like you have any,” he mumbles out, tone uncertain of something.

“I fucking hate you, Billy.” Steve can't move his head away, can't tear his gaze from where that tongue peeks out to lick his lips clean once more.

With a timid whisper, barely more than a breath, Billy utters out, “I hate me, too.”

Lips meet with obscene force, Billy pushing against Steve's mouth as if it's his only source of life, and immediately Steve opens up; tastes the metallic blood that still drips slowly down from Billy's wounded nose, and feels that captivating tongue intrude deep as it urgently memorizes every inch of wet heat.

It's as if they've both been starving for years, and now they're all too worried it'll end in the blink of an eye.

Billy bites and pulls at Steve's lower lip with a guttural groan.

“Fuck, Billy-” Steve nearly moans out and tries to buck out his hips.

“Shut the fuck up, Harrington, or I'll punch you again,” Billy growls and dives back in to lick where his teeth had just tortured sensitive skin.

“Mmh- ah-” and Steve pulls away to say, “Do it.”

“What?” Billy has never looked more dumbfounded.

“Fucking hit me again.” Steve licks his lips clean of Billy's blood and stares intensely down at him. “Slap me in the face.”

And Billy grins like the devil, bites down on his tongue, breathing staggered as he contemplates on whether or not Steve is serious. Then brings a flat hand across a pale cheek.

It stings and burns throughout his entire body, anger and lust confusingly mixing and making his blood pump faster, his cock growing harder. He pokes at the inside of that cheek where he can practically feel the red hand print form.

“God you're a freak, pretty boy.” Billy wags his tongue and stares with a confident brow. “This why Nancy Wheeler left you, huh? She couldn't keep up with your perverted desires.”

Steve doesn't speak, simply digs a hand in between them, and oh what an exciting bulge he finds there, one that forces out an “Arrh,” from stained lips and feels the hips below urge closer.

“Like you're one to talk.” Now Steve is the one to smirk, crooked and looking like the cat that got the cream.

Which Billy fucking hates. All he can do is press their lips together again and grind his full dick against Steve's hand caught between them. His movement irrepressible as he rolls his hips and swallows every single moan that spills from Steve's puffy lips, pleased and turned on by every syllable, irritated that Harrington can't just shut the fuck up.

It would be all too easy to get caught like this. But isn't that just exciting?

That thought strikes both of them at the same time it seems, because just as Steve moves his hand out of the way, Billy's flies down tear away at their belts, all the while maintaining the rhythmic dance of their ever so insatiable tongues.

Neither dares to utter a single word, because the wrong one could stop it all too soon, so they settle on hushed grunts and groans, barely a cursed word till Billy's hand shoves into Steve's trunks once his fly is down.

“A-ah- shit, Billy-” Steve moans out and closes both his hands in the denim jacket.

“Be fucking quiet, Harrington, I swear to God,” Billy hisses out with his gaze low.

Attention caught on how fucking long and hairy Steve is, the head of his flushed cock wet with pre. He doesn't waste any time with getting himself out as well, his own leaking erection girthy with clear veins snaking around. Not as long as King Steve's magnificent dick, but definitely wider.

“Fuck,” Steve breathes out hard at the sight of them both out in the open like that, shiny and standing at full size.

A moan cuts through him as Billy brings his free hand up to muffle every sound, with such force that it knocks Steve's head into the wall. The pure display of dominance that that move is, makes Steve leak even worse and struggles to keep his eyes open.

“I said shut the fuck up,” Billy's voice deep and threatening.

Steve feels as if he's staring death in the eyes, and all he can do is whine and thrust his hips into the iron grip around both their throbbing cocks. It's dry and uncomfortable, but fuck if it doesn't get him to where he needs to go.

And once again their minds must be in perfect sync, because Billy brings up his hand, and Steve watches intently as Billy spits into his palm, clear blue eyes never looking up to catch how burning amber stares.

Finally he gives in, when that slick hand twists around the two of them, and Steve's eyes roll back between fluttering lids as his mind goes blank with searing pleasure. A calloused hand, thick veins, hoarse groans, all of it the only things to matter in his world now, as every practiced jerk of his all too hard prick tears away at his self control and shoves him into the deep end of urges he never realized he had.

Urges he doesn't care to ignore.

Never before has he heard Billy go this long without insulting him, and he kinda misses it. He fights to open his eyes again, and catches how Billy's brows are raised high up and pinched together, his mouth wide as he barely manages to choke his own moans before they grow too loud, stare locked down where he's fisting them together with such fervor he could light a fire with it.

Steve is aching to hear Billy call him names, throw around abuse like it's nothing and shame him for something, anything. Perhaps tonight will give him new material finally, call him a queer or gay, just to then overpower him as he always does when they fight, now maybe followed by... a handjob? A blowjob? As long as his hands are on him, Steve won't complain anymore.

Can't complain when he's so close. He hadn't realized how badly he needed release at all till Billy had started pushing into him just minutes ago. Had their constant struggle just been pent up sexual tensions? Was this what it was all leading up to? An inevitability? Billy pumping his closed hand around them in a gross as all hell elevator, feeling every single inch of Steve's painfully intense erection?

“Fuck, ah shit, lift up your shirt,” Billy's quick to groan out with labored breathing that stutters as he speeds up his hand as fast as he can go.

And Steve doesn't hesitate to do as told, brings both hands from Billy's jean jacket to his own striped polo and lifts it up as high as he can, what with the way they're crammed together in a corner.

Feels the heat gather, the coil in his gut tightening till it's seconds away from springing, the vice grip around him doing wonders in pulling him to the edge, then shoves him off as he cums, hips shoving into Billy's rough hand with short bursts as he moans against the one stealing away his air, feels how he ejects wet heat all over his abs in a toe-curling feat.

Shortly followed by Billy as he empties all he's worth onto Steve's stomach, forehead pressed on top of the hand covering Steve's mouth, eyes still unblinking as he watches what a gorgeous mess they're making. He squeezes their spent dicks till the last drop drips down his broad fingers, and then lifts up his hand.

Ensures that Steve is watching, as Billy sticks out his whole tongue and licks his hand clean, sucking on the digits till there's not a trace left.

Steve moans into his hand at that, and despite the fact that he's been depleted of all his energy, still feels it jolt through him and burn into his memory for forever.

Finally Billy pulls his hand from Steve's mouth, and wipes the spit off in his jeans as he steps away.

And Steve nearly collapses without the support of thick muscles to keep him up, boneless in the afterglow of the best orgasm he's had in months. But... what's he going to do with the way they've painted his abdomen? There's no fucking towels or paper here, and he can't just take off his expensive polo shit and use that! He stares down in slight panic and gestures with his hands as if he's just going to, what, wipe it off?

When his sight gets blinded by something soft that reeks of musky sweat, and he catches Billy's shirt before it would fall to the floor. He looks up to see Billy put his jacket on again.

“Use that to uh...” He points to the cum that slowly runs down Steve's exposed skin.

Although hesitant for very good reasons, Steve does eventually wipe himself dry with Billy's tee, and awkwardly hands it back, as if he can really use it for anything now.

And a prolonged silence fills the air between them, as Steve remains in the corner and Billy struggles a bit with the doors; no clue what floor they're on anymore, and the counter above probably hasn't worked in years.

“What happens now?” Steve asks cautiously from where he's sitting in the same corner, a spot that he dares not leave.

Billy groans out a complaint and shakes his head at the immovable steel doors. Then goes to sit next to Steve with only slight space between their bodies.

“You mean if we make it out of here alive?” he laughs, and hears Steve give a tired chuckle as well. “That depends...” his tone grows wary and serious. “Harrington... if you tell anyone about this, I will fucking kill you, you understand?”

Their eyes meet, and in Billy's there's a storm of mixed feelings. Fear of getting hurt, premature anger of being found out about, and maybe hope? But that could just be Steve projecting his own thoughts and feelings onto the other.

“And what if I don't?” Steve swallows hard around the anxiety that clumps together in his throat. “What if I don't tell anyone about... us?”

One corner of Billy's rather stern grimace quirks up. “Then I'll see you tomorrow night.”

#Harringrove #Billy Hargrove #steve harrington #Lemon #My writing #TW blood #CW blood #Mmmm wrote this almost in one sitting yesterday #I had a tonne of fun!!!#I WANT to write more like this #with the two of them fighting n shit #but man #what do people even fight about #I've used fuck 26 times in this one document #damn

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hms-chill · 4 years

Text

Alex the Cat-Dad

This piece Ukiyosplash on Deviantart did for my fic about Alex and Henry fostering kittens is absolutely incredible and I love it so much it inspired this

If you haven’t read that fic, just know that Alex and Henry fostered five kittens, and Zest was the one they just had to keep

Alex has pretty much given up on trying to fix his sleep schedule. He's tried basically everything: avoiding coffee before bed, getting up early, even having Henry cajole him into bed at a decent time. None of it works. Henry is too easy to distract, and his sleep schedule is almost as bad as Alex's. Even when he could get to bed on time, they tend to use that extra time more effectively than sleeping. The coffee thing was an entire disaster, and when he wakes up earlier, he's just more tired in the morning. It's the worst on days when he's home alone, or on weekends when he's on his own schedule. He'll get wrapped up in something and forget to eat, or he'll nap in the middle of the day and not be tired when it's time for bed. He can turn alarms off too easily, and he can't ask someone to babysit or check in on him. Even David's not great at keeping him on a schedule, and he tends to go to England with Henry when they can anyway. At this point, Alex has just accepted that he's not going to be the most functional human on the planet. After all, he's tried everything.

What he hasn't tried is a cat. Specifically a cat who is very vocal, very social, and apparently able to read clocks. The first day he and Zest are home alone together, they play some, then Zest joins him in the office. He's got a bed on Alex's desk, so he naps there while Alex works, occasionally balancing a paper on his head or a business card against his paw. He sleeps until noon, when he stretches, toppling the senator's business card that Alex has balanced against him. His foot gets caught on his bed, and he almost falls over before Alex leans over to help him escape. From there, Zest's primary goal in life seems to be causing problems. He starts small, batting at Alex's charger and his hands as he types, then he upgrades to yelling, walking to the door and back until Alex sighs, gets up, and follows him. Zest leads the way to the kitchen, then sits on a counter (where he's technically not allowed, but Alex doesn't mind), and stares at him until Alex gets together a sandwich.

"Are you... are you babysitting me?" Alex asks. Zest chirps in agreement, and Alex laughs, scratching under his chin the way he likes. Zest purrs, hopping up onto Alex's shoulders. He's too big to perch up there like a parrot anymore, so he wraps himself around Alex’s neck instead, purring. Alex gives his ears a scratch and brings his lunch and a glass of water back up to the office to keep working, and Zest falls asleep draped around Alex’s neck, kneading sleepy little biscuits into Alex’s shoulder while he eats and answers emails. He sends Henry a snap of the two of them, Zest's sleepy face curled up next to his smiling one. Henry replies quickly, a picture of himself and David on a rug in Kensington, and Alex video calls him. Henry picks up almost immediately, his face appearing on Alex's laptop. He's lying on the floor, David cuddled to his side. They look cozy, or at least as cozy as they ever look when they’re there alone. Henry smiles when he sees them, a tired smile that’s so full of love it makes Alex’s heart skip a beat.

“I swear this cat can read clocks,” Alex says, by way of introduction. “He started being a little asshole at exactly noon today.”

“Aww, is he looking after you?” Henry asks, grinning. Alex sighs.

“I don’t even… he just took me downstairs for lunch. Like he took me to the kitchen and then sat on the cou— I mean, he sat—“

“Alex, you both know he’s not allowed on the counter! You’re going to teach him bad habits.”

“Hen, I don’t think I can teach this cat anything. It took him two weeks to learn where his food bowl is, and he still steps into his water dish and then gets mad that his paws are wet. I adore him, but his head is just air. Air and apparently a clock to babysit me with. He took me down to the kitchen and just sat and watched me make a sandwich.”

Henry laughs at that, relaxing a bit. David moves his head to Henry’s arm, and Henry rubs his ears.

“How are things there?” Alex asks, and Henry shrugs.

“You know. Not awful, not great. I miss you.”

“It was meetings today, right? Anything you want to talk about?”

So they chat about new policies the royal family is moving toward, and the wyas that royal support will influence different things, how rules might shift or policies might change. Zest wakes up about halfway through their call to yawn and stretch, nearly toppling backward off Alex’s shoulders as he unbalances himself. Alex catches him just in time as Henry laughs, and Zest starts to purr directly into Alex’s ear. It’s only then that Alex realizes how much tension he’s carrying in his shoulders and lets them relax a bit. Zest makes biscuits in his shoulder, and Henry keeps talking about their plans, but Alex isn’t quite as tense. Henry has to go to dinner eventually, but he seems lighter, and happier, too. He’s laughed at Zest, and he’s gotten some things off his chest, and as he fixes his tie and his hair in the little window that lets him see himself, Alex gets to experience one of his favorite things even across an ocean.

He gets to watch Henry fuss with his hair, gets to watch him tie and retie a tie until it’s just right, gets to watch him make sure everything looks just right before he says goodbye and presents himself to the British public. When he hangs up, Alex scratches Zest’s ears, then turns back to his computer and the maps he’s pulled up. Maps of states whose voter demographics and popular vote don’t match their electoral one, maps covered in ink-blot districts and red tape. And he gets to work, looking into state laws and bylaws to figure out how to fix it. How to let each state represent itself the way he knows they want to, how to help them show the world their souls the way Texas could in 2020. He makes lists of local organizers to call, and governors to pressure to restore stripped voting rights. He tweets something about the situation in Iowa and dms an activist from Florida on twitter to see if there’s anything he can do to help them. And when he’s overwhelmed enough that Zest wakes up to purr in his ear again, he gets up and goes for a run, his feet pounding the pavement and his music blasting in his ears as he works off all the pent-up rage he’s been harboring against old white men with names like “Elbridge” who destroyed communities for their own gain.

When he gets home, dripping sweat and panting, Zest is there to watch him stretch, then to sit next to the sink and scream until Alex gets himself some water. He’d been planning on showering first, but Zest will have none of it, and it turns out he’s right-- the headache that had been threatening to burst from the base of his skull recedes, washed down as he hydrates and pets the cat, leaving bits of fur stuck to his damp hands. Zest doesn’t seem to miss the fur; he wanders between Alex’s legs, leaving more stuck to the sweat there before Alex bends down to scratch his ears and follow him, giving him all the attention he needs. After all, no one has been home with him for almost an hour, and he can see a tiny sliver of the bottom of his food dish. It’s a miracle he hasn’t starved to death by now, and he desperately needs Alex to shake the bowl a little bit so that the bottom is solidly covered. Alex is more than happy to oblige, rolling his eyes as he does. Zest doesn’t even eat any of the food, just curls up on David’s bed while Alex goes to take a shower.

When Alex comes out of the shower, he’s in the middle of towel drying his hair and almost trips over the cat who’s decided he absolutely needs to be right in the middle of the doorway. Zest yowls in surprise, turning to run for the bed, where he can safely glare at Alex for nearly stepping in the middle of the floor.

“Listen, dumbass, what do you want from me? I didn’t see you; I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?” He’s pulled on Henry’s shirt now and goes to lie on the bed next to Zest, who turns his back, hops down, and walks to the door, tail swishing. Once there, he stops and looks back at Alex expectantly, all memory of their near-collision apparently gone. He meows, and Alex sighs and follows him. Zest leads him downstairs and settles directly next to the stove’s clock. It’s dinner time, and Zest is not going to let Alex get away with procrastinating it any longer. He makes dinner under the cat’s watchful eye, then follows his meowing little boss to the living room couch. He picks an animal planet show, because that seems like something Zest will like, and a few minutes later, Zest has dragged his food bowl into the living room to eat with Alex. He sends a picture of that to Henry, too, telling him they miss him and David at their family dinner.

When dinner’s done and the dishes are washed, Alex is going to go back upstairs to the office to work, but Zest won’t hear of it. He stays on the couch and complains so loudly that Alex has no choice but to bring his laptop down and sit on the couch, and Zest promptly drapes himself across the keyboard, looking up at Alex with big eyes.

“You’re worse than Henry, you know that?” Alex asks, scratching between Zest’s ears. Zest just purrs, letting Alex pick him up so that he can close the laptop and settle the cat on his lap instead. Absently, he digs around under the coffee table for yarn-- Henry’s been teaching him how to knit, giving him something to keep his hands busy when he’s not supposed to be working, and he’s not very good at it, but it helps. Zest bats at the yarn lazily, but his claws are in. He watches through half-closed eyes as Alex knits, the TV playing in the background as Alex very consciously focuses on the yarn and needles in his hands, the ways they move and the way the lumpy, holey… thing draping off them grows. He’ll call it a scarf and give it to Henry for Christmas as a joke.

Zest largely ignores him for a while, dozing intermittently as Alex focuses and the TV plays. But at 11 PM exactly, Zest wakes up, stretches, and begins to bat at the yarn in earnest, meowing at Alex until Alex puts the yarn away, and Zest hops off his lap and twists around his legs until Alex is up and following him, and they go up the stairs to the bedroom, where Zest sits on the bed and turns to look at him. Alex rolls his eyes and grabs his pajamas, going to brush his teeth. When he comes back, Zest is curled up on Henry’s side of the bed, and Alex smiles as he gets to climb in next to him, because going to sleep without Henry is never fun, but at least the bed isn’t empty.

On AO3

Want to support the Hannah Makes Art fund? You can tip me in ko-fi here!

#rwrb #rwrb fic #red white and royal blue fanfic #red white and royal blue fic #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry fox mountchristen windsor x alex claremont diaz #original cat character #zest the cat #my fic: rwrb #firstprince

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sworn-unbeliever · 4 years

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09 - Lush

((I think this one is more ‘plush’ than ‘lush.’ Another silly throwaway idea that became longer than I expected. How did that happen? Also, this is the house of my free company, Eidolons, home to old friends and wonderful people. The place is on Sargatanas, Goblet, 18th Ward, Plot 38. Reonora and Alto are also my chars. Rosemary is Reonora’s retainer, but the character belongs to @abeat. Also, the martial arts style they’re doing here is Wing Chun. Relevant link!))

wc: 1,782

Darkness and stars canvased the sky by the time Teremy returned to the place he currently called home. Feymarch. Owned by the free company Eidolons. “Beware of cats,” said the tagline. Mostly because except for the odd couple of hyurs, a viera and a lalafell, the free company denizens comprised of mostly miqo’te. Cats. He was a cat. He fit the description.

Especially the beware part. Right now, as his mood had long sank alongside the sun, neither his intentions nor his instincts could be held responsible for anyone that dared to approach him right now.

The day had started off as usual with a training schedule that lasted from dawn until dusk. Most of the time people left him alone and that was fine by him. Only after dusk set in than suddenly people remembered that Teremy existed.

And was a gunbreaker. Among other things. But first and foremost, a tank.

And stupid him to not put his foot down their requests of help. He just had to dive headfirst into combat for anyone in need. He just had to let foolish ideas take over--ideas such as how all their various excursions sounded like fun.

Fun. Hah. His body now found itself at the point where he could no longer delude himself of that.

“Oh, you’re young. You’ll shake it off in no time,” said one of the party members.

“Shake it off. Good one.” Teremy went through the motions of using the warrior skill. Had his brother been here, Jeremy would have pointed and clicked a finger gun. Had Teremy done that, he would have had his gunblade in his hand and fired an actual bullet. Bad idea in progress.

His usual controlled gait ambled like a zombie fresh out of the grave as he stumbled into the house. Not caring who saw him in a state of disrobement, he threw off his clothes and took a shower. He stumbled back upstairs wearing some fresh clothes of his usual monk attire, and made a beeline for what he believed to be straight to his room. His mood and nerves were shot beyond all hell and only the piano could satisfy his ire. Even if he ended up falling asleep on the piano lid, just like during his beginning days of training.

Teremy trudged towards what he believed to be his room. His eyes had started glazing over, obscuring most of his vision. When he stepped into the room, all he could see were bright lights, a cheery light-blue wallpaper with some dark patches near the bottom, and the scent of light perfume. Various types of lush couches spread around the room, creating a couple of sitting areas. Teremy felt tempted to collapse on any one of said couches until he found the most comfortable chair worthy of his slumber, but instead, his sights locked onto the lushest bed he had ever seen. At the far left corner laid a round canopied bed of pure luxury.

Nevermind what in the nine hells made a bed appear in his room. Or couches. Or plants. Or cheerful spriggan-splotched wallpaper. A bed. A bed that called his name. His bed now.

From his position at the center of the room, he vaulted directly onto the bed, changing trajectory in mid-air. By the time he landed on the bed, his left side touched the soft mattress. He sank into the middle of the bed upon collision and then sprang back up approximately halfway. He chuckled softly and happily like a small child. Who cared how stupid he sounded. Naysayers could go to hell. Lying in place, he shut his eyes and purred loudly, a small smile creeping on his lips. Eventually his purrs ebbed away into soft, rhythmic breathing.

‘If this bed is karma’s reward for a hard day’s work, then hell fucking thank.’ was the last thing he thought before he became dead to the world.

* * *

“... there’s not much to see here as this is merely a room where I keep extra furnishings, but feel free to look around,” said the voice of Reonora Aestethe as the half-keeper opened the door to her room.

The client, a green-haired viera named Alto Aria, ducked as she crept in, her shoulders hunched and hands apologetically in front of her as though feeling nervous to enter. Behind them, out of their line of sight but not out of their hearing was Reonora’s retainer, a blonde lalafell named Rosemary.

“Should anything catch your interest, just tell me what you wish for and I’ll put it outside for you to pick up.” Reonora continued.

As though anticipating the client to point at anything and to remember what was in her room in the first place, Reonora scanned the terrain. The usual couches. Table of fruit. Some plants and pretending to be hidden behind an oriental partition. The usual glade bed.

And one brown-haired miqo’te curled up on top of it.

Out of shock and a sudden surge of overstimulation, Reonora covered her mouth with both hands and let loose a soft gasp.

“What’s wrong?” Alto asked.

“N-nothing, it’s that… ah…” A million thoughts swirled around Reonora’s mind all at once. What if Alto wanted that bed? The ceiling was too low for Reonora to tip the bed over, let alone lift over her head and slide Teremy off. Would him being there make the bed less desirable to have, much like sitting on the warm seat of a chair? Either way, Reonora was with a client and would prefer to have the seeker out of the room.

‘What was his name again?’ Reonora tilted her head. ‘Right, Teremy. Right. Like ‘Jeremy’ but with a T.’

Reonora approached by the left side of the bed. She now faced his back and reached over to gently his shoulder. “Teremy…”

Before her hand touched him, Teremy whirled around and grabbed Reonora’s wrist.

Thanks to Reonora’s own strength, she jerked her hand away and pulled herself free, but not without wringing her hand afterwards. She should have figured by his attire, but his grip alone confirmed that he had some kind of martial arts training. Nevermind his ability to stop attacks in his sleep. She narrowed her eyes and said softly, “Teremy, I’m not trying to attack you. I just have a client here--” She reached over to touch him again, this time faster.

Reonora’s hand barely reached the halfway point before Teremy and his iron grip clutched her wrist again.

Reonora pulled her arm away again. Huffing childishly, she perched on the edge of the bed and went to grab her shoulder, this time allowing her battle intent shine free. As expected, he blocked and deflected her arm with his right hand.

Then suddenly, Reonora felt a sudden flash of battle aura come her way. She barely dodged to the left just to have Teremy’s fist nearly collide onto the side of her head. Instead, Reonora heard a snapping sound and felt a burst of air brush against her cheek. Had that punch connected, Reonora would have heard a bell ring three times for sure.

“P-perhaps he’s not really asleep after all?” Alto brandished her conductor’s baton. “I don’t see why you couldn’t just leave him there. It’s like invading a cat’s personal space. A-a pet cat, I mean! I mean, um...”

Had Alto said those words moments before, Reonora might have listened to her. But now, professional face off. Petty face on. Teremy’s eyes remained shut, his body relaxed, and now satisfied that his ‘threat’ had been dealt a fist of justice, he returned back to his resting position of before. He was asleep, but to be able to fight like this in his sleep…? And more importantly, to attack Reonora who had no intention of attacking him in the first place! The white-haired miqo’te clenched a fist. For the first time in a long time, she allowed her annoyance to take her over.

‘I recognise this fighting style.�� Reonora thought. ‘Emphasis on close combat in close quarters. Simultaneous attack and defense. Linear strikes to attack specific regions to knock the opponent off balance while maintaining balance themselves. Yes, it must be that style. Most likely because he wants to move as little as possible while still defending himself.’ Reonora turned to Alto and Rosemary. “Ah, please give me one moment as I try to get this unwelcome house guest off the merchandise. Health and safety hazard and all.”

Alto waved her hands. “No, that’s okay, you don’t have to--”

Too late. Reonora struck Teremy in his sleep, only to have her punch simultaneously blocked and attacked. But she was ready and deflected his own strikes. Countered. And countered. Then countered again. Their hands weaved together as though wrapping around each other, not wanting to let the other gain the better of each other. Sticky hands. Alto and Rosemary watched, the viera scratching her cheek, the lalafell tilting her head, both unsure as to how to help or what to do. Or that Reonora was attacking a sleeping young man. Or to have said young man successfully fending her off in his sleep. Finally, after what seemed like a stalemate, Reonora sighed. Annoyance quelled, her client’s requests finally reached her ears. She hopped off the bed and bowed towards the viera.

“My apologies for that unsightly display.” Reonora bowed.

“It-it’s all right. I mean, I understand. Usually in places that sell beds, people are discouraged from sleeping on the display?” said Alto. “At any rate, that bed looks lovely. I would like one commissioned for my own free company.”

Reonora raised one foot and clasped her hands in joy. “Thank you very much! My co-workers and I shall get started on the commission right away.”

However, once Reonora had set her mind off of something, said thought churned in her head like an annoying buzz. And her mind still clung onto that sleeping miqo’te and her subsequent pride as a martial artist herself. She turned back to glance at Teremy, who had rolled over and curled up on his left side like before. His left hand held his head, his right hand draped somewhere in front of him.

“Aw, let him sleep. He’s even defending his territory... with martial arts... while sleeping...” Alto giggled.

Rosemary nodded. “Once a cat chooses their spot, it’s their spot.”

Reonora sighed. “You’re right. I’m no different either. Ah well… let sleeping cats lie, I guess.”

The next afternoon when Teremy finally woke up, the seeker found himself on the receiving end of Reonora’s wagging finger, narrowed eyes and stern words. Teremy admitted he honestly had no idea what she was talking about. After all, he had been sleeping the whole time.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2020

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creampuffqueen · 4 years

Text

Worlds of Fire and Darkness | Chapter Fourteen (Lyria, Rygan, Sam)

Read this on Ao3! (Here) Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! Things get slightly nsfw in the first part, so be prepared for that. Also, Lyria and Folas’s song is Into You by Ariana Grande, Sam and Rygan’s song is Lucky by Jason Mraz. The lyrics for the Ballad of Terrasen are from the song by Inquillery on youtube! It’s so amazing, I definitely recommend listening to it while reading Rygan’s POV!

The long awaited Peace Ball is held, but things don’t go exactly as planned.

Lyria POV

“Folas, I need to get up.” Even annoyed, I couldn’t keep the stupid dopey smile off my face. The curtains were drawn, but the late afternoon sun still peeked through, pulling me from my sleep.

The male in question rolled away from me, groaning his complaints. I was hit with a sudden rush of cold without his warmth, and I sat up, smiling at the goosebumps on my arms.

“Do you really have to?” He asked, sighing below me. “Can’t you just stay here?”

“No, because the ball starts in a few hours. You don’t want to miss that, do you?” I grinned at him, bending down to kiss him swiftly.

“I’ll miss it if it means I get to spend the night with you.” His purr was devious, and I rolled my eyes.

“You stayed here last night.”

“And I’ll do it again.” I snorted at that, but couldn’t resist another kiss. This one lingered, soft and sweet.

When I pulled away, I waited for a moment, just watching him. Folas’s dark hair was mussed, and his tanned chest was above the blankets just enough for me to admire.

It had been three days since our first kiss, and a whirlwind three days at that. After our fight that first night, I’d spent nearly the whole next day apologizing, even after Folas had assured me it was fine. I didn’t know what had gotten into me, and I’d lashed out at him unreasonably.

And that next night… I’d made it up to him, properly. He hadn’t made it back to his own room afterwards. Whether he even tried to was questionable, but I wasn’t complaining.

I finally managed to pull myself away and get off the bed, and grabbed a dressing gown from the chair at my vanity. I pulled it on, relishing its cozy warmth.

“I need a bath, Folas. And you probably do, too.” While we had just woken up from a nap, we’d spent the hours before it rolling in each other’s scents, and the room was pungent with the smell of us.

“Besides,” I continued, “My friends are all coming here to get ready together. If you stay, you’ll have to listen to Asceline making fun of you the whole time.”

At that, Folas groaned loudly and rolled out of bed. I didn’t bother to hide my gaze traveling along his body, and he just smirked at me.

“Like what you see, princess?” He purred.

“Oh, you know I do. But alas, we don’t have time.” I still walked towards him, though, drawn to him by some magnetic force.

Folas pulled me close, kissing the top of my head. He leaned in and gave me another kiss on the lips, but I pushed him gently away before he could take it further.

“C’mon, let’s hurry up.” I urged. “The other females will be here soon, and I want to be cleaned up by then.”

Folas gathered his clothes and pulled them on, giving me one last kiss before he left. I resisted the urge to lean into him, to tangle my fingers in his hair and drag him back to bed. We’d already spent far too much time alone as it was, and I was sure my parents and family were onto us.

After he was gone, I drew a cold bath, using the frigid water to wake myself up properly. I didn’t even bother using my usual soaps and bath oils, instead just taking a few minutes to scrub my body and hair until they gleamed.

I toweled off, though I used my powers to dry my hair and curl it. I had just pulled on a petticoat and a robe when a loud knock sounded on my suite door.

“Come in!” I called, opening up my wardrobe to find the dress I wanted to wear.

It was Asceline at the door, as expected, and my cousin breezed inside, her dress in a bag that she threw onto my bed.

“Really, Lyria,” She sighed, “You can’t bother to clean up this room even a little? So we don’t all have to smell what’s been going on in here? Aren’t your little sisters coming in here, too?”

“Calm down, Ash.” I said, rolling my eyes. “It’s not that bad.”

“It’s very bad. This entire room smells like sex.” She grabbed a bottle of my perfume off my vanity and sprayed it at me, grinning when I coughed.

“While I’m glad that you and loverboy have finally stopped being dumb about your feelings for each other, you don’t have to shove it in all of our faces.” Asceline spritzed some of my perfume on herself.

“Oh, shut up, you don’t get to say anything.” I laughed, taking the bottle from her and applying it to my neck and wrists. “You are totally acting stupid around Leo and won’t admit your feelings to him.”

My cousin smacked me lightly in the side, though she couldn’t hold a glare. “This is not about me and Leo.”

“What’s not about you and Leo?” I nearly jumped out of my skin as I saw Rose appear in the doorway. Despite the fact she was as human as could be, she’d perfected the Fae art of being completely silent.

“Nothing.” Asceline said defensively. She turned back to the bed, crinkling her nose as she took in the rumpled sheets.

“Look at my dress!” Rose giggled, ignoring Asceline. She held it up so we could all see, and my breath was nearly taken away by the beauty of it.

It was floor-length, like most of our dresses, and made of flowing white tulle. However, the bodice was a deep purple, and the color lightened to a pale lavender as it traveled down the dress in an ombre pattern. The sleeves were off the shoulder, made of creamy white silk.

“You’re going to look stunning in that.” I grinned. Rose beamed, and set the dress down on the bed next to Asceline’s.

The witches arrived next, Aris and Nysa squabbling as usual.

“Nysa, you can’t wear that.” Aris snapped to her sister. “You’re barely sixteen-”

“Yes, and at least I’ve got a boyfriend to admire me in it.” Nysa growled. “If I want to show off, that’s my business.”

“Both of you shut up.” Kerrigan said, rolling her eyes. “Nysa doesn’t have another dress to wear, anyway.”

“Stay out of this.” Aris and Nysa snapped in unison, then turned their glares back to each other as the fighting continued.

“All of you hush!” I interjected, pushing between the sisters. “Nysa, show me your dress. I’m sure it’s beautiful.”

“It’s beautiful, but far too revealing.” Aris protested. “I don’t want my little sister walking around in that.”

Nysa snarled at Aris, then pulled her dress out of its bag to show me. It was bright red and made of silk, with thin straps that held it up- and a large slit that would obviously go from ankle to thigh when she wore it.

“She’s fine.” I decided. “And like Kerrigan said, there’s not another dress here for her anyway.”

“See!” Kerrigan shouted, glaring at her older sisters. “I do know things, you know.”

Both of them rolled their eyes and continued to ignore their little sister. Aris showed us her dress, a pale blue thing that sparkled in the light. We oohed and ahhed over it, then were distracted when more people showed up.

Soon enough, my room was full of people. The girls from Anielle, from the Southern Continent, from Briarcliff. Even my own little sisters arrived, forgoing getting their hair done by our mother to spend time with all the older females.

Besides, our mother would be getting ready herself. Or taking care of Fleetfoot.

For the past three days the dog had been living the high life. Hand-cooked meals three times a day, brought to her on a silver platter, a plush bed near the fire, walks through the flower garden every time she needed to go outside- the dog was spoiled to the heavens.

“Lyria, can you do my hair, please?” Evalin chirped. “I want it in a bun, just like Asceline has.”

My cousin was finishing with her braided bun, tongue stuck out as she focused. She’d managed to rope Giselle into holding all of her supplies, and the girl looked absolutely miserable.

“Come here.” Evalin sat on my lap on the bed as I brushed out her long, silvery hair, while Aerith tugged on Amelie’s dress until she turned around to see her.

“Can you please help me do my hair?” Aerith begged, making sure to speak slowly and clearly, so Amelie could read her lips. The older girl nodded, taking my littlest sister over to my vanity.

All around, the room was bustling with activity as people got ready for the ball. Words flew past, snagging me into different conversations as I fixed Evalin’s hair.

“Aris, can you zip up my dress?”

“Gods, I’m so bad at braiding- Asceline, can you help me fix this?”

“Teagan, will you pass me that khol when you’re done?”

I tied Evalin’s bun and fluffed it with the comb, sending my little sister off to get her dress. Seeing nobody else needed my help, I finally got up to get my own dress.

I had hung it on my bathroom door earlier and now the sewn-on sequins were sparkling in the candlelight as the sun slowly dipped towards the horizon. It was Terrasen green, like most of my dresses, smooth and silky fabric that felt wonderful beneath my fingers.

“Lyria, your dress is so pretty.” Asceline purred, prancing up beside me to rest her head on my shoulder. My cousin’s golden hair was the same shade as my own, one of the only physical traits we shared.

While Asceline was a shifter and could therefore make herself look however she pleased, she usually didn’t. Sometimes she changed the color of her hair or eyes, or gave herself Fae ears to hear better, but that was the extent of changing her human form. My cousin loved herself, curves and and weird birthmarks and all.

I smiled at Asceline and pulled the dress down from the door, unzipping the back so I could slip inside.

Shucking off the robe, since I had my petticoat on beneath, I let my younger cousin hold me steady so I could step inside the deep green dress.

I had one foot in when Asceline suddenly took her hands off me and put them on my shoulders, surprise written all over her face. Without her keeping me upright, I toppled over so fast I almost didn’t hear her shout.

“Why do you have bite marks on you?!” she shrieked, as I lay on the floor with my feet tangled in my dress. I could feel the stares of all the other girls turning toward me.

“Okay, you don’t have to yell about it-” I snarled, trying to slip out of the green fabric to put my dress on properly. Asceline made no move to help me up, and instead I hauled myself up using one of the posts on my bed.

I could see my cousin putting two and two together- the mussed bedsheets, the scent, the marks. When her Ashryver eyes returned to me, they were unreadable.

“Lyria, did you let Folas do that?” She asked softly. I bared my teeth in a snarl as I pulled my dress off the floor.

“What does it matter to you? It’s my body.” I hissed. The room was very quiet as my cousin and I stared each other down. I prayed that somebody had gotten my little sisters away so they didn’t have to witness the arguement I knew was coming.

“Lyr, I know, it’s just-” I cut Asceline off with a growl.

“You don’t get to decide what I do with my own body.” I stepped inside my dress and pulled it up, managing to stay upright by some miracle or another. Asceline moved forward, as if to help me zip up the back, but I pulled away with a glare.

“Lyria.” My cousin begged. “I just don’t want to see you getting hurt. You’re rushing into all of this too fast.”

“Like you would know.” I snapped. I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth, watching as Asceline’s face fell and silver began to line her eyes.

“Asceline-”

“Save it.” My cousin whimpered. “You’re right, anyway.” She wiped furiously at her eyes, turning away from me.

I pulled the sleeves of my dress up and over my shoulders, keeping the bodice up and not sagging until I could get it zipped. When I looked up, only seconds later, Asceline had disappeared.

Leaving a glaring Evalin in her wake.

My little sister met my gaze with the heat of a thousand fires, her Ashryver eyes, so much like Asceline’s, furious.

“Lyria, you can be a real bitch sometimes.” Before I could scold her for swearing, Evalin had transformed in a flash of light, her peregrine falcon form flying for the window that someone had left open.

I cursed my stupid big mouth as I stomped towards my vanity, grabbing the small jar of foundation and slathering it liberally on my neck, too furious at myself and my family members to care it was getting dangerously close to my neckline.

It was only when a pair of soft, delicate hands wrapped around my wrists that I finally glanced up. Amelie.

She didn’t sign to me, or try to make any kind of communication. Instead, she gently pulled my hands away from my body, took a cloth towel from my vanity, and gently dabbed away the foundation to make it look natural again.

When I turned back to the others, my composure slightly regained, I found almost all eyes on me.

“What are you looking at?” I snapped, before letting out a loud sigh. My temper was getting the best of me, and I was being unfair. This wasn’t their fault, it was mine.

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine.” Aris assured me. “You two are family, you can’t be upset with each other forever.”

However, with the way Nysa was glaring at her sister, I wasn’t so sure.

“Lyria, I got your shoes.” I peered down at Aerith, holding up a pair of silvery flats for me. I squatted down to her level, taking the shoes and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you.” I breathed. I stood up and slipped them on, managing to keep my balance long enough to fasten the buckles at the ankle. I was sure that by the end of the night I would be barefoot, but for now, before everyone was drunk, I would appear as the prim and proper princess.

My little sister held out her arm, and we linked elbows. Her silver hair was in a half-up style, using the short hair she had. Aerith and Thallan had always cut their hair at their shoulders, meaning it was almost impossible to tell them apart by just a glance.

“Asceline will be back.” Aerith assured me. “She won’t want to miss the ball.”

“I know she’ll come back.” I said softly. “I’m just worried she won’t let me talk to her and apologize.”

“Stop worrying.” Aerith insisted, sounding so much like our mother it took my breath away. “Let’s go and have fun, Lyria.”

The other girls were whispering behind me. I didn’t know what they were saying, if it was good or bad. But I found myself not caring.

“You have to teach me the dance steps, okay?” My little sister said. “Because Thallan won’t learn them with me.”

“I will.” I promised.

Aerith held out her pinky to me. So I reached over and linked my own. A pinky promise, the unbreakable sibling promise.

With that, my little sister grinned merrily and hauled me out of the room, the rest of the girls soon following as we made our way to the Great Hall.

Ready for the 20th Annual Peace Ball.

~~~~

The Great Hall normally felt large, but tonight it felt even bigger than usual. The chandeliers were all lit, the decorations were set up, and tables and tables of food were laid out right before us. All set before the wooden thrones on the raised dias.

My parents were the only ones inside the hall, slow dancing to music only they could hear. The musicians had yet to set up, and the only other living soul in the room was Fleetfoot, napping in my mother’s throne atop a plush blanket.

I almost felt bad about going inside, as if I was ruining their moment. But Aerith tugged me forward, then raced over to our parents and practically threw herself at our father’s arms.

“Aerith!” Rowan boomed, catching my sister effortlessly. He held her on his hip, like when she was a toddler, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“Hello, Mama.” I smiled, greeting my mother with a kiss on the cheek. “Hello, Papa.”

“Hello to you, too, my beautiful girls.” Mother laughed. “Are you ready for the ball?”

“I’m ready for dinner!” Aerith giggled. Rowan smiled at that, giving her another kiss on her head.

Slowly, guests started to trickle in; the early arrivers. Most of the girls who had been in my room to get ready were there.

Though I noticed that Evalin and Asceline were still missing. Neither of my parents noticed, as all of my brothers were still absent. Why, I would never know. They hardly had anything to do to get ready!

I watched the musicians take their place and start setting up their instruments, while last-minute trays of food were brought up from the bustling kitchen.

When we were little, our punishments for acting up always consisted of helping out in the kitchen. Usually washing dishes. I always hated it down there, with the hustle and bustle and chaoticness. But Sam, always my opposite, would go downstairs to help on his own.

And as if my thoughts had summoned him, Sam appeared at the entrance of the Great Hall just as the music started. Aspen and Thallan were with them, meaning that only Evalin was missing now.

Glancing around nervously, I subconsciously began to chew on my manicured fingernails, only stopping when Aerith tugged on my dress.

And then, my mother spoke the words I’d been dreading.

“Lyria, Aerith, where’s Evalin? Wasn’t she with you?”

Aerith glanced up at me, a silent question of whether she should answer or not. Looking between my mother and my baby sister, I slightly shook my head no.

“She’s in the bathing room still, Mama.” I let out a sigh of relief and turned away, scanning the Great Hall for a flash of my sister’s silvery hair.

I spotted Nysa and Kerrigan easily, the two of them leaning casually against a wall and talking. Nysa’s red dress was tight around her abdomen, while one of her pale legs was on full display right up to her thigh.

More guests arrived, and I heard my mother snap her fingers to start dimming the lights. A few of the haughty old lords passed the Fae and witch arrivals with dirty looks, though they were largely ignored, as usual.

Aedion and Lysandra arrived, Evangeline hot on their heels, hand in hand with Hazel Ironwood, Lord Ironwood’s eldest daughter. Three Ashryvers accounted for, one still missing.

“Hey, you.�� I flinched, whipping around, only to see Folas standing before me, grinning. I hadn’t even heard him approaching.

“Oh. It’s you.”

“Don’t sound so excited to see me.” He chuckled. I rolled my eyes and punched him lightly in the arm.

But Folas grabbed my hand and twirled me away, and I couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up from my throat. When I regained my balance, he was there, kissing the back of my hand and looking at me in a way that made my face heat.

“Folas! Stop making out with my sister with your eyes!” Aspen shouted, pushing himself in between us.

“Aspen!” I scolded. “Don’t be rude.”

My younger brother just stuck his tongue out at me.

“Very mature.” Folas commented, grinning in a way so I could see his pointed canines. My hand subconsciously went to the base of my neck, where the foundation covered the bite marks by those same teeth.

“Stop being gross, you two.” Now Sam was beside me as well, with a devious smirk that didn’t sit properly on his gentle features.

I pushed my way out of my crowd of siblings and onto the floor just as the music began to play. Folas trailed after me, his hand finding mine easily.

It felt strange, to know that months ago, I’d lain awake with Asceline into the small hours of the night, just talking about Folas. And now, here he was, holding my hand, his marking on my body and mine on his.

But- Asceline.

I cursed myself, over and over again, even as I kept a smile plastered on my features, for how stupid I’d been. My cousin was just looking out for me, and I’d pushed her away. Just like I had done to Folas days ago.

“What’s wrong?” And there was Folas, more attuned to my emotions that I probably was. I shoved down the feeling of brushing him off, of claiming everything was fine when it most definitely wasn’t.

“Asceline and I got into a fight earlier.” I admitted. “And I said some nasty things, and she left. Evalin went after her, and neither of them are back yet.”

Folas’s dark eyes slide from my face to over my shoulder, his grin not fading in the slightest. I considered smacking him for not paying attention, but after a moment of consideration I turned around to see what had him so enraptured.

And a moment later I was so glad I did.

Because Asceline had returned, Evalin holding her hand.

My cousin’s eyes were red and puffy, and her once perfect hair was coming undone slightly. But I didn’t think about any of that as I turned around and crushed her in a hug, tears welling up in my own eyes.

“I’m so sorry!” I whimpered, pulling her to me as if I could somehow fuse her with myself. Asceline pulled away slightly, though still let me cling to her as she spoke.

“No, Lyria, I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have started anything with you. I was just worried for you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

She turned a glare on Folas. “I swear on all the gods, Lochan, if you hurt her I will flay you alive and feed you to my dogs.”

Folas gave her a dramatic shudder in answer. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Satisfied, I let my cousin free from my death grip so she could smooth her dress and fix her hair. Evalin had wandered off, and I spotted her over with my mother, getting food.

“We’re all good.” Asceline finished. “You two go dance, okay? I’ll see you later.” She walked away, soon falling in with her family. I watched from afar as Evangeline and Hazel wrapped her in a hug, likely cooing over her dress.

Folas’s thumb caressed the back of my hand, prompting me to look back at him.

“What?”

“You heard what Ashy said. Let’s go dance.”

“It’s tradition for the King and Queen to do the first dance during balls.” I told him. Nobody was dancing yet, all waiting for when my parents would emerge. Though my mother always told everyone not to wait, the people always did, anyway.

“Well, you’re their future queen, so it can’t be that much different, can it?” Folas joked. He tugged my hand, like a petulant child dragging their parent over to a sweet shop. Even so, I found myself unable to resist his smile.

So I let him drag me onto the dance floor, grinning wildly as he twirled me around and around and around.

Laughter bubbled up from my throat, my heart beating rapidly as Folas led me through a dance, his own smile matching my own.

I let my power flow through me, sparks and embers floating around us, a crown of flames flickering over my own head.

The music continued, and more and more gazes turned towards us, watching as the Crown Princess of Terrasen opened up the Peace Ball for the first time, the future Lord of Perranth serving as my partner. I could feel their stares on us, but looking at the embers reflecting in Folas’s dark eyes, I suddenly found I didn’t care.

The song faded into nothing, and Folas finished strong, dipping me so suddenly sparks erupted around us. His lips met mine in a brief kiss that left my lips tingling, before twirling me away one last time, throwing his hands in the air.

I took half a second to catch my breath, before I raised my hand and linked it with his.

“Welcome to the Peace Ball!” I said to the crowd, letting my bits of summoned fire dissipate into smoke. All around us, it was silent, for just a moment.

Then the clapping started.

From Asceline, grinning madly at the front of the crowd. Evangeline and Hazel following, my aunt Lysandra and uncle Aedion only a split second behind. And then the rest of the room erupted into cheering, people smiling ear to ear, clapping so hard the sound filled the room.

And from her dias, standing next to her throne and petting Fleetfoot, my mother cheered, letting out a raucous whistle into the crowd that had me beaming.

The music started up again, a loud peppy song, and I watched as couples entered the dance floor, laughing and smiling the whole time. I stole a glance up at Folas, and found him grinning as well.

“C’mon, let’s dance!” He grabbed my waist and I squealed, letting him spin me through the now thick crowd of dancers until I was dizzy.

This new song was light, happy, and I clicked my heels on the golden floor with relish, my laughter uncontainable. Folas would pull me toward him, kiss me quick, before letting me go to dance away from him, a trail of embers following my every move.

It was exhilarating, the kind of high I wished I could have all the time, a sense of euphoria stronger than any drug in the world, I was sure.

And my feeling of it was only heightened when Folas dragged me away from the dancers and into an offshooting hallway, large hands roaming my body over my thick dress.

“You’re perfect, Lyria. Perfect.” He mumbled against my skin, lips pressed feverishly against my throat, tracing closer and closer to where I was sure he knew his claiming marks lay, covered by the heavy makeup.

“I know.” I purred back, content to languish in his kisses until he tired of them, which, seeing the way he nuzzled the crook of my neck, wasn’t likely to be anytime soon.

Folas hummed softly, moving his hands from my back to lower down, pulling me closer against him as he pressed us both against the wall. The moon was out now, and most of the candles in the hallway extinguished to make the Great Hall seem brighter. We were alone.

But as the thought crossed my mind, my ears pricked, the sounds of the Ball and all of its attendees suddenly roaring loud. Alone, yes, but hidden? Definitely not.

Folas’s hands found the zipper on the back of my dress just as he pressed another kiss to my throat, and it took every possible bit of willpower in me to not just let him go, risk it all, if he promised not to stop what he was doing.

“Let’s go to the gardens.” I managed to get out, not able to resist threading my fingers through his dark locks.

“Mhm.” Folas nipped softly at my chin, and I had to bite my lip to stifle that soft groan that threatened to spill out.

“I’m serious.” I repeated. “The gardens will have hardly any guards right now. Someone’s bound to come down this hall at some point.”

“Yeah, and I bet I could get you to come at least once before that happens.”

“Someone’s confident in themselves.” I retorted. “I thought I was your first time, two days ago.”

“I had a learning curve two days ago.” Folas grinned. “And is that I bet I’m hearing, Lyr?”

“No, it’s not.”

Folas ignored me, sweeping me up into his arms and kissing me hard. “Maybe we can see how many times I can make you come before the guards find us.”

“In your dreams.” I snorted, though my I felt my toes curling in my shoes at the thought.

“Oh, I’ll make it feel like a dream, all right. Just you wait, princess. I’m going to take you into the gardens and ravish you.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him to me for a kiss.

“Better get on it, then. Sounds like someone’s coming down the hallway.”

Rygan POV

I was never one for large gatherings. My sisters adored them, being the kind of people who could talk and talk for hours.

Me? Not so much.

Which was how I found myself dressed in a nice suit, my curly hair washed and tamed as much as possible, and standing at the back of the golden Great Hall while the rest of my family danced.

I didn’t mind being in the back while they had fun. It was more comfortable for me, anyway. I was content to eat good food, listen to the music, and enjoy the night by myself.

I was busying myself by the food tables, sampling everything the cooks had made. Tonight the castle and the Great Hall were open to everyone in Orynth, including the servants.

I took another chocolate filled pastry puff to snack on as I wandered, the cream inside of it melting in my mouth.

I let myself get swept up in the crowd, humming along to the music while other people danced.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the tell-tale dark head of hair, neatly groomed and slicked back, that belonged to Sabron Lochan. The male was heading towards me, a glass of some mysterious drink clutched in one hand.

“I thought you’d probably be here.” Sabron chuckled, resting his free arm on my head, purposely trying to annoy me.

I shook him off and rolled my eyes. “I don’t like balls.”

Sabron’s grin turned feral. “Oh, I thought you did. I thought you were fond of balls.”

“No-” I suddenly realized what he meant. My eyes widened, and I could feel as the blood all rushed my face. “You are a terrible person, you know that, right?”

His laugh was more like a howl as he bent double, nearly spilling his drink all over his expensive suit. “Oh man, you walked right into that!”

“You’re a terrible, awful human being.” I repeated.

I glared at Sabron, even as I let him lead me over to the food tables again. The musicians began the next song, another jaunty tune to get the people dancing.

I couldn’t help the glance I gave to the dance floor. Or the way my eyes were instantly drawn to a tall, silver-haired male as he twirled his little sisters around.

It’s only because he’s so tall. And his hair is so bright. It has nothing to do with anything at all.

I turned away, determined to ignore my heart which had absolutely no business beating as fast as it did. Sabron offered me a drink and I took it, not even asking what it was before I took a large gulp.

Sabron began to talk, chattering my ear off in his usual fashion, but I couldn’t pay attention. Instead my eyes were glued on Sam, and that crooked little smile he always had, dancing with his family.

“Rygan. Rygan. Hellooo, Rygan?” Sabron tapped me on the shoulder and I flinched, my drink spilling a bit over the edge of the glass as I did so.

“You are so out of it tonight. Are you drunk?”

I passed him the drink back. “No. That’s the first alcohol I’ve had all night.”

Sabron finished my drink for me, knocking it back quickly. When he looked at me again, his eyes were serious. “What’s on your mind? You’re supposed to be having fun tonight.”

“It’s nothing. I am having fun.” I protested.

“No, you’re clearly preoccupied. Is it a patient back at home?”

It would have been so easy to just say yes to that. Working in the Northern Torre, I always had patients who were bothering me, occupying my mind. But right now, that just wasn’t it, and I couldn’t bring myself to lie to one of my best friends.

I shrugged and shook my head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Sabron leaned over my shoulder, watching me as I avoided his gaze and tried to look at anyone else. Big mistake.

When my eyes landed on Sam, now hanging on the side of the dance floor by himself, my heart skipped a beat. And Sabron, observant, people-watcher Sabron Lochan, noticed instantly.

“It’s Sam, isn’t it.” Not a question.

“Yeah.” I admitted.

Sabron just sighed. “I knew it. And both of you are too chicken to make the first move.”

“He probably only sees me as a friend.” I said defensively. “We’ve hardly seen each other since this time last year.”

“He’s always talking about you, you know.” Sabron murmured into my ear. “When you were gone, somehow he’d loop every conversation back to you. ‘Oh, Rygan would know what to do’. ‘Rygan would love this book’. ‘I wish Rygan was here’.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not!” He insisted. “He may not know it, but he is totally into you.”

Sabron nudged me forward, towards where Sam stood alone, looking suddenly very, very lost.

“Rygan, what’s the worst he can say?”

“I am not going to admit anything!” I hissed. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“You won’t. Come on, be brave.”

Sabron keep pushing me, until I was sure we were in Sam’s line of vision and I pulled myself away to walk on my own.

Sam peered up at us, blinking rapidly. “Oh. It’s you two.”

“Who else would it be?” Sabron snorted.

“If the nosy old lords can’t find Lyria then they ambush me.” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “And seeing as my sister has disappeared, it seems I would be a target now.”

“Where did Lyria go?” I questioned. Sam made a gagging noise.

“She snuck off with Folas a little while ago. I did not follow.”

Sabron’s shit-eating grin grew. “I should go interrupt them.”

“You’ll want to burn your eyes out afterwards.” Sam warned.

“Please don’t burn your eyes out.” I sighed. “Eyes are so hard to fix, you know that, right?”

Sabron stuck his tongue out. “Know-it-all.”

Both Sam and I smacked his shoulder, and Sabron groaned a complaint.

“Fine. I’ll go get more food or something. Maybe I’ll see if Asceline wants to dance.”

“She’d rather turn into a wolf and bite your face off!” Sam called after him, smiling in such a way I could see the pointed tips of his canines.

My heart skipped another beat. With Sabron gone, he’d just left me with Sam. I wasn’t sure I could properly trust my mouth to make words anymore.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to. The candlelight dimmed even further, and the music stopped.

The entire room was silent, in bated anticipation. Slowly, the musicians began to play, softly. A young woman, red hair artfully done up, stepped forward.

And began to sing.

The emerald trees dance and the rivers run free,

The mighty stag follows, watching over me

I knew the song- the Ballad of Terrasen. The music was slow and gentle, as the woman’s lilting voice filled the Great Hall.

And on the floor, the King and Queen began a slow dance.

Somewhere, over the mountains,

There’s a place I called my own

Lysandra and Aedion joined them, a tender dance between them. And then Elide and Lorcan walked onto the floor as well. Then Evangeline and Hazel, the two women only having eyes for each other.

The floor filled up as the song continued. Sam and I stood together in raptured silence, watching the woman sing.

No sight can contend with the steadfast oak tree,

That welcomes me home to the land of the free

And suddenly he was looking at me. The gold of his irises was reflecting the soft candlelight, his silver hair seeming to glow in the moonlight shining through the large windows. All the breath left my body at once.

Sam’s gaze was unreadable as he looked at me, with my whole body tense and blushing. And when the next words came, I thought I might faint.

“Do you want to dance with me?”

Somewhere, over the mountains,

There’s a land I once called home

“Sure.” I squeaked.

Sam held out a hand, and I took it, trying to remember how to breathe. His hand was soft, with the barest hints of callouses on his fingertips. We walked out onto the edge of the floor, and then he took my other hand.

But hear me my sisters, listen oh brothers,

One day we’ll find our way back to each other

His hand moved to my side, resting just above my hip. I put my hand on his shoulder, and our free hands stayed clasped together.

Sam took the first step, sweeping us into the crowd. He was sure of himself, every movement made with precision. And yet, his eyes never left mine.

My own feet were clumsy, unpracticed. I stepped on his toes more than once, but he didn’t complain at all.

I promise I’ll find a way back to each other

The music began to swell, and the room seemed to swirl around me as we danced further and further into the crowd.

I wasn’t sure when I had last taken a breath. Was I even breathing? I felt light headed.

“Calm down. Nobody’s watching.” Sam whispered in my ear, voice low and husky. Of course, he thought I was worried about the people.

No, I was more concerned with not melting into a puddle just from hearing his voice.

Somewhere, over the mountains,

There’s a place I called my own

That smile. That smile. It was going to be the end of me. The little grin he made, his cheeks crinkling up, the barest hint of pointed Fae canines.

Sam twirled us across the floor, each step perfectly in time with the music. We moved through the other dancers effortlessly, with his hands holding me steady.

Somewhere, over the mountains,

There’s a land I once called home

The music was reaching its peak, and for the entire song, Sam’s eyes never once left mine. His hand, fingers entwined with mine. His body, pressed against me, leading me through the dance.

I took a deep breath.

There’s a land I once called home.

“Sam.” His name slipped out, a soft breath.

There’s a land I once called home

We stopped, then. Right in the middle of the floor.

There’s a land I once called home

As if we were the only two people in this hall. Just two people, dancing.

There’s a land I once called home

The music faded out, as gently as it had started. The clapping began, but I didn’t hear it over the roaring of blood in my ears.

Sam’s hands were still on mine, clutching me tightly. When he leaned over me, silver hair falling in his face, every single part of me felt as though it was one fire.

His hand moved from my side to cup my face.

Sam Galathynius was touching me.

His eyes flickered down to my lips, a silent question. Almost a plea.

He was so close I could feel his breath on my lips, so close his chest was pressed against mine so I could feel the frantic beating of his own heart, echoing mine.

Sam tilted my chin up, and his beautiful eyes locked on mine again. I closed my eyes, leaned in to him.

His nose touched mine for a split second, the scent of his skin all I could smell. I could almost imagine what it would feel like, to press my lips against his.

He’s going to kiss me he’s going to kiss me he’s going to kiss me-

And then the world exploded.

Sam POV

Everything was a blur around me. One moment I was barely an inch away from Rygan’s face, every part of me screaming out to just do it, just kiss him!

And the next moment the ground seemed to fall from beneath me, and Rygan and I tumbled to the floor in a heap.

The whole castle seemed to rumble, the shaking of the earth so strong I couldn’t stand. Terrified screams came from every part of the room, but I was so stunned I couldn’t even move.

A loud crack came from somewhere up high, and the scent of fear became overwhelming. People were shouting, screaming, praying.

What was going on?

A cloud of dust exploded from somewhere above us, and I buried my nose in my arm, trying in vain not to cough. I couldn’t see anything, even with my enhanced Fae eyesight. All I could do was listen as the screams kept on coming.

I heard a soft groan beside me, and I turned, reaching for Rygan. If I couldn’t see through the dust, there was no way he could. I pulled him up beside me, and tried my best to stand up while the whole world seemed to be spinning.

“Sam,” Rygan choked out, mouth close to my ear, “We have to find the others. They might be hurt.”

“I know. Let’s go.” I took a wobbly step forward, and Rygan linked his arm with mine so we could steady each other. I couldn’t tell through the dust and the gloom what damage might have been done. All the candles had gone out.

That didn’t bode well the state of my family. Where was my mother’s fire, Lyria’s too? Evalin and the twins could wield fire, though not well. Aspen didn’t have any fire at all, just like our father.

My thoughts traced back to my older sister. She was gone, off with Folas. Where was she?!

“Sam, we have to go.” Rygan urged me.

“Right.” I managed to focus my erratic thoughts enough to summon a ball of fire into my palm, though the flame was weak, sputtering.

We stumbled through the dust together, as the frantic screaming died down. Now, people were calling out, shouting for their family and friends, for their loved ones.

“Sam!” I heard the desperate scream of my mother, and I lurched for it, the fire flickering out. Rygan held tight to my hand, and I could make out just his blurry outline through the dust, face tucked into his collar so he could breathe.

“Sam!” My father’s roar sounded seconds after, closer this time.

“I’m here!” I managed to call back, before hacking loudly as a cloud of dust flew into my mouth. Rygan flung his arm around my shoulder, having to reach with our height difference, and kept me upright and moving forward.

Moments later I ran headfirst into strong, muscled arms. My father pulled me in, grabbing onto Rygan as well. I heard the distinct sigh of relief, followed by another round of coughing.

“Aelin, I”ve got Sam. And-” He scented the air. “I also have Rygan.”

I bumped into a small form, one that clung to my legs as I moved forward. Aerith, followed a moment later by Thallan.

“Do you know where Lyria is?” My mother asked, pulling me into an embrace. A furry tail brushed against my side, evidence that Fleetfoot had been woken up and taken to safety.

“I don’t know.” I admitted. “She and Folas left after their dance.”

Rygan still held my hand, as if he was reluctant to let me go. I squeezed it back once, twice.

I’m still here.

“We need to find everyone.” Aelin said. “Take a headcount.”

“I can try to clear the dust, Mama.” Aspen offered. Hardly a moment later, a strong wind flew through the room, sweeping the clouding dust up and away. I added my own powers, and we were both joined by our father.

But clearing away all the dust gave us a full view of what damage had been wrought upon the castle. A large fissure split down the Great Hall, as well as above it. Several windows were shattered, and only a few supporting beams still stood.

This hall could come crashing down upon us at any minute.

Shards of glass were spread around, food and drinks spilled all over the floor. Some of the tables were overturned, and one was broken. The only light anymore was that of the moon, and the little fire my mother was providing.

All around, people were huddled together in groups. I could spot the figures of the Lochan family, huddled around Marion, who was for once silent. The little girl’s eyes were wide with terror, and even from a distance I could see the white of her knuckles from gripping her father’s hand.

“Everyone, please stay calm!” My mother shouted, doing her best to be heard throughout the hall. She turned addressing everyone. “Please, we need everyone to stay still so we can make sure everyone is here.”

Slowly the noise died down, shouting and screaming fading to whispers. Everyone counted their family, their friends.

Rygan and I still held hands. If I let go I thought I might faint. The rest of him was shaking, but his hands remained firm. I watched those golden brown eyes scan around the room, looking for injuries. For people he could help.

Everything felt fuzzy and off centered, like the whole world was unbalanced. I turned to ask Rygan what he thought, when a sudden movement caught my eye.

“Sabron!” Marion screeched, jumping out of the way as her older brother lurched forward, vomiting violently. He landed on his hands and knees as he emptied the contents of his stomach onto the gilded floor.

“Rygan, no!” He ripped his hand from mine and sprinted across the hall, running towards Sabron while his parents dropped to the floor beside him.

Shards of glass sprayed with each step he took, and I scented the moment one drew blood. But Rygan didn’t stop for even a moment until he reached Sabron, and bent down right next to him, even as the gagging continued.

“I’m going to go search for Lyria and Folas.” My father stated brusquely. “You all should stay here and help.”

“No, I’m going with you.” I protested. “Two sets of eyes.”

Rowan didn’t bother to argue with me. Instead he shifted, the flash of light nearly blinding in the dim light of the moon. I shifted myself, letting myself get swept away in my hawk form.

Together, we flew to the top of the hall, and then went in opposite directions. I took the hall to the gardens, and my father flew down the hallway that led back into the castle.

I summoned the winds for me to soar on, to soar through the hallway and the castle, my sharp eyes missing nothing.

Nothing. There was nothing in this hallway.

The scent of dust permeated the air, and I could smell nothing else. There was no sign of Lyria, of Folas.

I flew through the opened doors and into the palace gardens. The wood of the doors was cracked, and the stone wall of the garden was crumbling before my eyes.

It was then that I noticed the tree. A large oak tree had been the center of the garden, surrounded by a bed of kingsflame flowers that had bloomed almost overnight, years ago.

The tree had fallen completely over. The top of the branches had crashed through the stone wall, and the kingsflame flowers were completely crushed.

I hadn’t even noticed that I had shifted back until I felt the soil under my feet and the bark of the tree beneath my palms. Tears dripped down my cheeks as I took in the sight. The mighty oak tree, fallen.

I knew, deep down in my heart, that this tree couldn’t be fixed. Not even with the most powerful Fae in the land. The exposed rings inside the tree were too numerous to count. The tree had been standing for centuries.

I took a deep breath to steady myself. I could cry over the tree later. Lyria and Folas were still missing, and with the destruction wrought in the garden, I could hardly see a thing.

But I began to search regardless.

“Lyria! Folas! Can you hear me?”

“Sam!” I could have sobbed with relief when I heard the sound of Folas’s voice, steady and strong, calling to me from the back of the garden.

I flew over, clearing the fallen parts of bushes and smaller trees with ease as I located my sister and friend. They were alive, they were safe.

However, the sight that greeted me when I landed was anything but safe.

Lyria was hunched over, golden hair ripped from the style she’d had it in. On her hands and knees, silky green dress ripped, vomiting. Just like Sabron had been doing.

Folas was curled around her, holding back her hair. The scent of his fear was nearly tangible.

Lyria gagged, rocking back onto her knees so she could wrap her arms around her stomach. Spit dribbled down her chin, as well as tears.

I had never seen my older sister so sick. So feeble, and shaky, and hurting. Nothing was right.

“We were out in the gardens when the shaking started.” Folas explained, eyes wide and terrified. “We were going to try and get inside, but she just… stopped. She hasn’t moved since.”

“Something is wrong with me.” Lyria moaned, then leaned forward as she gagged again. “There’s a tugging in my stomach.”

“Lyria, we’re going to get you inside. There’s healers inside who can help you.” I assured her.

I motioned to Folas, and we each grabbed her under an armpit and pulled her upright. The bodice of her dress sagged, and it was then I noticed it was unzipped, the sleeves no longer on her shoulders.

Carefully, I eased one of her arms back inside the sleeve, to at least hold the dress up while we got her inside. Lyria lurched, and I held her as she leaned forward to vomit.

Only bile came up.

Carefully, we helped maneuver her around the garden, back towards the castle doors. All of our clothes got snagged and ripped on thorns and broken branches as we moved, but none of us cared anymore.

I held a ball of fire in one hand to light the way. Even the stars seemed to shine differently now. Lyria groaned as we moved her, green eyes rolling back into her head.

Every noise she made spiked my nerves again and again. This was Lyria, my older sister, the strong, smart, witty, perfect one. And yet, here she was, hardly able to hold herself up, vomit staining the front of her dress.

Wrong wrong wrong

Adrenaline pumped through my veins as we reached the doors. Folas heaved one further open so we could all fit through, and then it was just the home stretch back to the Great Hall.

Folas was lagging, I could tell. He was exhausted, sweat coating his face in a sheen. When I turned to look at him, I saw the belt of his pants loose, the buckle undone.

Well, that was why they had snuck away in the first place.

When we neared the Great Hall, Aspen found us, and his face went pale at the sight of Lyria nearly limp in our arms. She had stopped vomiting, instead seeming on the verge of passing out.

“Mom!” Aspen yelled, and our mother was beside us in a moment.

“What happened to her?” She demanded, pulling her daughter into her arms. “My darling, are you alright?”

Lyria let out a low moan of pain, but didn’t speak. We all followed into the hall, where Aelin set her down near the wall, where the Lochans were still caring for Sabron.

“What happened to Sabron?” Folas asked, voice a near whimper as he approached his younger brother. Elide pulled him down into a fierce hug, sobbing into his shoulder.

“Folas, we were so worried!”

I sensed a presence behind me, and I didn’t have to look to know it was Rygan. I held out a hand, and he took it, squeezing it tightly.

“Only Lyria and Sabron are sick. And we don’t know why. My mother and sisters didn’t sense anything wrong when they examined Sabron. There’s no reason he should be sick. They didn’t even find signs of shock.”

I turned to look at him. Dust was caked in his curly hair and smeared on his brown skin, and his eyes portrayed his clear exhaustion. But still he stood tall, and his hands were steady. I wasn’t sure if I could say the same.

“Lyria said she felt like something was tugging in her stomach. One moment she was fine and then the next she wasn’t.”

“Okay.” Rygan breathed. “I’ll let Amelie know. Maybe she’ll find something in Lyria and we can help her.”

All I wanted was to lay down and sleep. The adrenaline that had fueled me earlier had abandoned me completely, leaving me exhausted.

But I knew I couldn’t rest, not yet. My sister was sick, my best friend was passed out on the ground, the castle, my home, was in shambles.

I didn’t know what to do. When Rygan finally let go of my hand, off to help someone with cuts and scrapes, I still stood there, motionless.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, I took a step. And another. And another. Until I was walking, stumbling towards where Lyria lay on the ground, hand clutching her stomach.

I sat down with her, beside my mother as she stroked her golden hair. I picked up her hand, rubbing the back of it gently with my fingers.

Slowly, her breathing eased. Her muscles relaxed, her hand rested on her stomach rather than holding it.

And there I sat, holding my sister’s hand while the world seemed to crumble around us.

#throne of glass #tog #sarah j maas #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #tog gen 2 #acotar gen 2 #rowaelin #elorcan #lysaedion #nestaq #manorian #chaorene #wofad #worlds of fire and darkness #crossover #fanfiction #sjm

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carol-effing-danvers · 4 years

Text

knock me the fuck out (i dare ya, babe), finale

Weep with me tears of joy and fulfillment for this soft boy and his cuddly boyfriend.

i have some more thoughts about this universe that i may or not get to, but they aren't really relevant to the story i wanted to tell here, so those will have to be for another tale :D

part one, part two, part three

(if you’d prefer to read this in Ao3′s format, click here)

Billy is deliciously warm, deliciously relaxed and deeply asleep when the phone rings on the table beside the bed. He gives a displeased grunt and buries his face into the pillow as Steve rolls away from him to pick up the call, hoarsely croaking “’ello?” There’s a pause as he listens to the caller, then surprises Billy by tapping him on the shoulder. “For you, Billy.”

What the fuck? He mumbles a confused “Hello?”

“I’m so sorry.” Max sounds as tired as he is, maybe more. “But Lauren refuses to go to sleep – I told her that you’d be back in the morning, but it’s already almost midnight, and the more tired she is, the more upset she gets. Can you please talk to her for just a few minutes?”

“Yeah,” he slurs. “’a course. Lemme get up first so we ain’t talking in Steve’s ear while he’s tryin’ to sleep.”

“Oh my god,” Max says miserable and guilty, repeating “I’m so sorry, Billy.”

“No, no, no – it’s okay,” Gently, he closes the door behind him, thankful that Steve owns a cordless phone and trying not to walk into a wall. “I shoulda knew she’d bug out if I didn’t come home.”

Max murmurs “Lauren, Uncle Billy wants to talk to you.”

His whole heart breaks – Lulu is sucking in air hard, sobbing quietly. Poor Max must’ve been trying to get her to sleep for hours. “Hey, my girl. Why won’t you let Mommy tuck you in?”

“Wh-wh-why did you leave?!” she wails, sorrow all renewed.

“I didn’t leave you, baby. I’m having a sleepover with my friend, I’ll be back tomorrow. Mommy told you that, right?”

In a tiny voice, Lulu replies, “Yes.”

“I’m never gonna leave you without saying goodbye, Lulu,” he says softly. “I promise. Who’s my girl?”

“I-I am,” she hiccups, but she sounds a few shades calmer now.

“That’s right. And it’s gonna snow tomorrow, so I thought I’d take my girl out to make a snowman,” he says solemnly. “But we can’t do that if you’re too tired to play outside, Lulu. Can you lay down and close your eyes for me?”

“Don’t hang up!” she says, a bit frantic, and Billy feels another tug on his heartstrings.

“Won’t hang up, baby. Close your eyes for me and lay down. Okay? Lulu, skip to my Lu. Lulu, skip to my Lu. Lulu, skip to my Lu. Skip to my Lu, my darlin’…”

He has to stay with her, and sing to her, for he doesn’t know how long. He won’t leave until he’s sure that she won’t feel abandoned and there’s a period of calm before Max whispers “She’s asleep now. Thank you so much, Billy.”

She sounds close to tears herself. She’s probably been up since four or five o’clock this morning and as it turns out, Lulu isn’t the only girl with a piece of his heart. “Sweet dreams, little sister.”

“Sweet dreams, big brother.” Max sniffles.

Billy stumbles back toward the bedroom and finds Steve basically doing what he was doing for Lulu, except that Steve is singing his song to his fucking cat, a dark blob resting on his stomach as he pets her, scratching her around the ears and beneath her chin. “With no lovin’ in our souls, and no money in our clothes, you can’t say we’re satisfied…”

His voice is a beautiful purr, husky with sleep, warm and loving to an animal that Steve obviously cares about.

Billy is leveled like the Starcourt fucking Mall.

He blurts out, “You’re gettin’ the words wrong. It’s ‘coats’, not ‘clothes’.”

Fuckin’ smooth, Hargrove. Real fuckin’ smooth.

“Mmkay,” Steve says serenely, eyes closed. “It sounds better my way.”

Anything coming out of your mouth sounds better. “Yeah, it kinda does, doesn’t it?”

As he slides back underneath the covers, Angie gets annoyed with them moving around the bed and hops off to wander back out of the room, tail held high. Steve curls around him, humming contentedly under his breath. Steve’s nose brushes along his neck, breathing inward, and Billy feels like he’s gonna die, because this much happiness at once just can’t be good for you. His mouth has gone dry.

Steve gives another contented hum, wrapping an arm around his waist and a leg around his hips. His hand, resting at Billy’s heart, caresses down the scarred skin and muscle to rest near the waistband of his boxers, and Steve’s thumb leisurely strokes up and down his lower belly, through the trail of hair leading down to his crotch. He murmurs against Billy’s skin “I never get this.”

“Hm. I hope I’d remembered getting you to feel me up,” Billy replies, grinning at the quiet darkness.

“No.” He feels Steve grin against his shoulder, which is…just…the best feeling. “A bed. Talking. Just…letting me kiss you.”

“Letting you,” Billy repeats, a bit sarcastically. “It’s become my cross to bear.”

Steve lightly bites him on the shoulder, and Billy can feel the way his mouth still stretches around a smile. “Okay, you know what I’m saying here.”

“Yeah, I guess I do. But ain’t no hardship, sweetheart.” He squeezes Steve’s hand, and he’s silent for long enough that Billy asks, “What’chu thinkin’ about, Stevie?”

Steve sighs, low and sweet, fingers still petting at his belly. “Billy Hargrove thinks I’ve got heartbreaker’s eyes. I’m thinking ‘bout that.”

“You do,” he whispers, earnest, heart in his throat. “Took your sunglasses off and I see these big brown eyes – and my soul left my fuckin’ body, Steve, I swear. I remember-” Billy swallows, and part of him can go back to that scared, raging, confused boy. “I remember thinking that it wasn’t fair, that no boy should be able to break my heart with just eyes.”

Steve laughs, ducking his face into Billy’s neck sheepishly, even though Billy can’t see him anyway. His skin is hot against his own, lashes like the flutter of his butterfly wings over his skin, making his heart thud harder. “You are a real romantic. I never get that, either.”

Billy snorts, but he can’t really deny it. “It’s too bad, y’know. Cause you’re pretty good at this part, darlin’. Where the hell is my lullaby, though?”

Steve pets his skin some more, slow and lazy, and Billy thinks that maybe he’s already falling asleep-

“Which way you goin’, Billy? Can I go, too?” he croons, fingertips warm and gentle on his skin, petting his abdomen and stroking along the tendons of his neck, lips warm and whisper soft upon his skin. “Which way you goin’, Billy? Can I go with you? You are my whole, babe, my heart and soul, babe. I’d have nothing to show, babe, if you go away…”

He’s got chills running up and down his spine, even though his face and chest feel hot and feverish. Billy’s dying, he’s dying, because he knows now that his love was never wasted on this boy. “Who’s the real romantic?” he whispers hoarsely, relaxing his weight back against Steve’s body. “You’re sweet, Stevie.”

“You’re not fooling me,” he murmurs back and kisses beneath his ear, soft and wet. Billy shudders. “You are, too.”

He takes Steve’s hand, smooth from a life of finger-paint and glitter-glue, and presses his mouth to the palm. “Gotta keep that our special secret, darlin’.”

Sleepily, Steve says “Ain’t a secret, baby.”

---

Steve spends a week just sort of walking on fucking air.

“What’s up, buddy?” Steve doesn’t even bother to ask who it is – Dustin calls him at five o’clock on the dot, every Monday. “Excited to finish up your midterms and come home for a little while?”

“Yeah, I’m going straight to a study group as soon we’re done.” He sounds as cheerful as he ever is, but by now, Steve is also intimately familiar with what he sounds like when he’s tired, too.

“Okay, but try to make sure you get enough rest,” Steve says, holding the phone on his ear with his shoulder as he lifts Angie onto his lap. “You’re smarter when you’ve slept longer than four hours a night, buddy.”

“Yeah, I know.” Then, a little less cheerfully, “So, uh…how are you feeling?”

Steve frowns. Had he been sick the last time he talked to Dustin? He didn’t think so… “Uh…fine? Why?”

“Well, you know…the ten year anniversary is coming up,” Dustin says awkwardly. He sounds distinctly like he’s also frowning now. Unhappy. “And like…I get worried about you, and stuff.”

“Dustin…”

“-and you always say you’re fine, even when you’re definitely not fine…”

“…pal…”

“Robin says you’re okay, which I guess is good but…”

“Dustin.”

“-it’s not the same as be able to see for myself…”

“Dude, seriously-”

“And you’re lonely, man, the people there treat you like shit!”

“DUSTIN!” Steve says loudly, scaring poor Angie right off his lap. “…I have a boyfriend.”

He says the words before really thinking about them and all of their implications. Dustin lets out this hilarious little ‘eep!’ before shrieking “Oh my god, really?!” like he’s suddenly sixteen again and asking Steve how two men have sex, in the technical sense, and jeez-

Steve really misses him, feels his eyes sting. “Yeah. I mean…it’s a new thing, but we’ve already gone on a few dates and it’s going pretty well.”

“Really? Okay, well, what’s he like?!” Dustin asks impatiently.

“Uh, well…” Nervously, Steve wishes that he hadn’t bought a cordless phone. His fingers have nothing to play with in moment like these. “You sort of already know him…Or, I guess, knew him, would be the better way to put it.”

Exasperated, Dustin says, out of the blue, “Oh my god, if it’s Tommy Hall, Steve, I know he had a crush on you, but you can do way better-”

“What?! No, Tommy Hall didn’t-what the fuck, who gave you that idea?”

“Robin,” he says, with an obvious ‘duh’ at the end.

“What the fuck?!” Steve repeats, this time at a volume that makes Angie cower under the coffee table. “Oh Ang, I’m sorry, baby – c’mon. Daddy’s sorry.”

Apologetically, Dustin explains “She told me and Erica not to tell you, because she didn’t wanna out Tommy to you even though she was pretty sure he wanted to fuck you. Then after your crisis, we agreed he wasn’t good enough for you.” Steve feels a sudden headache coming on, because this entire scenario has ‘Scoops Troop’ written all over it in big bold letters. “If it’s not Tommy Hall, then who?”

“Billy. Max’s Billy.”

There is a pause before Dustin asks “…is he okay now?”

The thing about Dust is that he’s so outwardly goofy that it’s easy to forget that he’s so smart, and he’s so smart that it’s easy to forget that he’s so empathetic. “Yeah, he’s okay now. He grew up a lot more when he went back to California.”

“Is he nice?” It’s less a question and more a demand.

“He’s really nice,” Steve says honestly, finally coaxing Angie back onto his lap after earning her forgiveness. “And he’s more…patient now. More relaxed. I think Lauren might be his best friend – he calls her Lulu, and I see him every morning when he drops her off. He um…he works for El.”

Jane Hopper is something of a…not exactly a sore spot for Dustin, but mentioning her tends to make him droop like a wilting daisy. They are not close and probably never will be. Steve used to think Dust was exaggerating when he said that Eleven didn’t like him, but she tends to shut down in one on one conversations with him, and she’ll do just about anything to avoid being left in a room alone with him.

Steve doesn’t really think that it’s because El straight up doesn’t like him, he thinks that it’s more of a matter of a sheltered person like El not quite knowing how to deal with a personality as loud and attention-grabbing as Dustin’s could be. That reaction crushes his self-confidence though, so the Scoops Troop try not to bring her up, and Steve tries to do El the courtesy of not overwhelming her too often.

“Oh good, Mike was just telling me she was getting busy enough to start needing help,” Dustin says neutrally. There was a pause, and then, more quietly, he asks “Is Max doing okay?”

It’s a little weird, because even though they’re all the same age, Max kind of had to grow up the faster, because while the others were thinking about the end of their freshman year of college, Max was giving birth and dealing with a marriage and a mortgage. “I think she’s excited to have Billy back in town – he’s hinted that she was having a bit of financial trouble before he got here.”

“So, you don’t think that she and Justin will be getting back together?”

Steve sighs, irritated. “If Lucas wants to make me a spy, the least he could do is ask me the questions himself.”

“That’s not a yes,” Dust coaxes. “Just yes or no, I refused to ask you anything else.”

“No, I’m pretty much sure that if he comes back to town, Max will be asking to borrow the nail bat.”

“Hm, there’s a long line for that. Can you pick me up from the station?”

“Uh-huh. Eight o’lock on the 30th, right?”

“Right.” Dust sighs, and again Steve’s heart gives a painful pang at hearing how tired he sounds. “Sorry, it’s time for my study group. Love you, Steve.”

“Love ya, kid.”

---

He has way more work to do now, since Robin insists that the original bet was for only a make-out session and he kind of ended up with a boyfriend, so she gleefully dumped upon him all of the quizzes she gave before the students began spring break, including the twenty page midterms she made them do. He didn’t have to grade the three page essays at the end but that still left seventeen pages to mark through forty-five times.

Despite the stack of paperwork in front of him, Steve’s still got a huge grin on his face as he sits across from Robin in the diner and lifts his coffee mug. Dazed, he says “I’ve got a boyfriend.”

He can’t say it too loud, that’s inviting trouble on himself that he doesn’t need, but he can’t hold it in.

Robin looks up, threads of hair escaping from her messy bun, and smirks at him, but her eyes are enormous and warm. “Yeah, you do.” Setting down her pen and flexing her fingers, Rob rests her chin on her hand. “And you still haven’t given me any details on dates number two and three.”

Steve’s brain helpfully provides him with the dreamy vision of both of those.

Date number two was a pool house in Evansville, drinking beer, talking trash at each other that was at least half flirting, and finding reasons to brush up against Billy in public, until Billy stood behind him as he was making a shot and growled in his ear, “Get in the fuckin’ car, darlin’. Gonna bite you where you like it.”

They steamed up the windows of the Impala that was the Camaro’s spiritual successor, and Billy pulled him on his lap, yanked opened the buttons on his shirt and assaulted Steve’s chest – pinched, kissed, sucked, and yes bit him, until Steve had his hands braced on the roof to keep himself grounded in a world that kept spinning, and cried “Oh fuck, Billy, stop, I’m gonna come.”

“Mm, I don’t hear a downside anywhere in there. Lemme get you off, heartbreaker.”

Right there in the driver’s seat, Steve’s head thrown back and mouth wide open as he tugged frantically on Billy’s shortened hair, coming without a hand ever touching his dick because he had Billy’s groaning mouth sucking at his nipples. Limbs shaking, Steve shoved his hand down the front of his pants and jerked Billy off with sharp rotations of his wrist, kissing all over his face, his neck, his chest. “Baby, baby,” he murmured, nipping at Billy’s neck. “Look at me.”

Billy’s eyes were the blue of distant oceans, like he kept a part of California in him wherever he went. Steve whispered “Fuck, Billy, you’re beautiful” and suddenly his fingers were soaked with come, Billy staring up at him in stunned rapture, like Steve was the sun and he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

Date three was Billy making California-style tacos for him (he had no idea that avocados were so delicious, what the hell!) and then watched Stand By Me, the Friday night movie on tv, head on Billy’s shoulder while he explained how Stephen King basically ripped off The Party’s life story, minus Maxine and Eleven.

Billy looked so startled when Steve started groping him on the sofa. There were sometimes moments that Billy really seemed to think that Steve was some kind of stuck-up prude, when he looked absolutely flabbergasted that Steve was as into this as he was, could be as aggressive as he was.

“Bed?” Billy asked in his ear, grinding down against him, his hands squeezing Steve by the hips. Thick, throbbing against him, making Steve’s mouth water and his heart beat three times faster. His belly was wet with pre-come, smeared all over his skin, burning hot where their skin met.

Steve had his teeth clenched together, trying not to shout so loudly that all his neighbors knew his guest’s name was Billy. He grabbed Billy by the upper arms and squeezed hard, sweating and arching his hips into his every motion, thighs tightened around his hips. “Billy, if you stop right now, I swear I’ll kill you.”

“Yeah?” The dummy was so surprised. “Getting close, heartbreaker?”

Sometimes, Billy still seemed surprised that Steve even reacted to him, like he was an untouchable statue. My ice princess. But he was flesh and he was blood, and it scared him, how much he wanted Billy to touch him. How bewildered he felt at the sight of Billy lying next to him in the morning, face down in the pillow.

He’d show him a goddamn ice princess.

“Give it to me good, baby, c’mon,” he moaned, and Billy bucked faster, breathed harder. Steve could feel his arms shake and smiled against his mouth. Raking his nails down his back, Steve slid his hands beneath the back of Billy’s boxers and got two handfuls of his ass, rasping “That’s it, like you mean it. Fuck, don’t stop, Billy. Right there! Baby-baby-!”

“Steve-o, earth to Steve-o!” Robin sing-songs. “What planet did you land on, dingus? Care to share with the class?”

He waves her off. “You don’t want to hear all the sweaty, manly details, Rob…”

She watches him drift off, pale skin flushing warm and vivid. “Oh my god, what’s that face for? What did you do?!”

Blushing like a schoolgirl, Steve hides his face. “After the boning, he made me hot chocolate and we spent three hours cuddling on the couch!”

“Oh my god, Steve, leave it to you to get embarrassed by the high school romance bits,” Robin is laughing at him, loud and happy. “What a dingus!”

Despite her laughter, Rob is practically glowing. Has Steve’s new relationship really made her this happy? With a bit of a whine to his tone, Steve says, “Well it’s not like I haven’t done the other parts before! I didn’t even know Billy wanted to do the sappy shit!”

She clicked her tongue, grinning fondly. “You love it.”

“I do,” he admits, bashful. “He’s all…romantic and stuff. Y’know.”

“And stuff? Come on, you can give me better details than that.” Steve can’t manage to do anything but blush harder and Rob smiles like the Cheshire cat. “Oh, that good, huh? I bet he brings you breakfast in bed and calls you pet names.”

Steve is hiding a smile behind his fingers, a lost and awed expression in his eyes. “Heartbreaker.”

“Hm?”

“He calls me sweetheart, and darlin’, and-and heartbreaker.” Self-conscious with himself, Steve buries his head in his arms and moans, “Oh god, please don’t make me say anything else.”

“That’s ridiculous and I love it,” Robin replies, with an enormous grin.

“Buckley, why are you torturin’ my guy?” Neither of them heard Billy walk into the diner, but there he is – blue flannel, fleece-lined jacket, and heavy denim. Steve becomes a puddle in the booth and it must be obvious because Rob looks positively gleeful and Billy is starting to look smug and maybe a little besotted.

Fuck.

---

Billy knows that Robin must’ve been teasing him – Steve’s pretty face is all pink, even the tips of his ears are red. Buckley, on the other hand, is almost demonic with glee. Clearing his throat, Steve gives him such an adoring expression that it leaves Billy nearly breathless. “Hi there, Harrington.”

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks playfully, with a smile that veers dangerously close to naked flirtation.

He shrugs. “Lulu went to her friend Sam’s birthday party. Wanted to check on you, since you said the slave driver chained you to your paperwork.”

Buckley huffs. “I won that bet fair and square!”

Steve huffs back, with an endearing little pout. “I never agreed to it, you bully!” He throws Billy a look with those devastating eyes. “She’s going to abandon me to see a movie. Wanna keep me company?”

If anyone ever figures out how fucking easily he falls to that gaze, he’s a dead man. Aw shit. From Buckley’s face, she’s already figured that out. “Yeah, ‘course.”

Buckley rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, like getting to moon at your new boyfriend is such a hardship.”

“Rob!” Steve hisses, looking at nervously.

She scoffs, getting up from the opposite side so that Billy could take her place. She gives Billy sort of a challenging stare, and tosses her head. “If he didn’t wanna go public, he should’ve said no the first damn time, when you warned him.”

Maybe Billy’s answer would be different if his father were still alive. But he ain’t. “It ain’t that big a deal – just don’t wanna get Harrington into any shit.”

She pitches her voice so that it won’t carry. “You don’t get to take whatever you want in private and leave him out in the cold in public.”

He can’t even imagine how Old Billy would react to having a woman talk to him like this. But by the hardness in her eyes, he does know that even Old Billy wouldn’t have scared her. Robin Buckley has fought monsters far more disturbing the one he used to be. She also, judging from the steel in her jaw, has seen people (men? women? both?) do this to Steve before. Take their physical pleasure from him in dark of night and then pretend they can’t see him in the light of day.

She looks ready to knock his teeth out if she doesn’t like his answer, and Billy can both understand that anger, and respect her desire to protect Steve from pain. “Down girl,” he murmurs, “I wouldn’t leave him out in the cold anywhere, never mind around these wolves.”

“Rob,” Steve says lowly. “Don’t give him a shovel speech. I can take care of myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” she responds, with a smile that’s equally sweet and poisonous. Billy’s opinion of her skyrockets. “Have fun, boys.”

Steve sighs at her retreating back, looking put upon for a moment before he smiles at Billy again. Flicking his hair out of his face, he pushes his glasses up his nose and admits, “I actually do have to work on these. Sorry.”

Billy steals his coffee mug. “Yeah, I kinda assumed that.” He pulls a dog-eared copy of Red Dragon from his jacket pocket. “Don’t worry, I can keep myself entertained. Besides, I got somethin’ real pretty to look at.”

He throws in a wink just for good measure, just because he knows he’ll be well rewarded with another rosy blush coloring Steve’s cheeks.

It’s relaxing, sitting around like a normal couple, nobody giving a shit about the two of them sitting there. Understandably, he’s pretty surprised when something – or someone – touches his dick under the table.

His eyes immediately shoots up to Steve’s face as the arch of a socked foot presses into the fly of his jeans, rubbing gently against the rapidly thickening semi there. The question on his lips dies almost instantly. He hardly needs to ask if it’s an accident – Steve’s gaze is already fixed on Billy, biting down on the corner of his lip as he tries to hide the curve of a wicked smile, his eyes dark behind the frames of his glasses.

Billy’s mouth drops open slightly as Steve’s toes curls around the rigid line of cock, wedged painfully against his zipper. Steve makes a low noise, a satisfied kind of purring, at how quickly Billy goes from semi to fully hard. Gripping the edge of the table with one hand and squashing his book into an open position with the other, Billy croaks “Steve.”

Oh so innocently with his angel-faced smile and his creamy rose blush, Steve says “What are you reading?”

Billy has to bite down a pained groan as Steve rubs him just a little harder. It’s torturous – there’s too many layers between them to get Billy off, which he suspects that Steve is well aware of, but it also feels so good that he doesn’t really want him to stop. Too late, he recalls Robin’s words about Steve in the 11th Hour. He likes to flirt with danger. He’s addicted to risk.

He honestly couldn’t think of anything riskier than Steve trying to bring him off in the middle of one of the town’s busiest attractions, only edged out by the churches and the bars. Billy stares at him helplessly, wide-eyed and voiceless with the force of his surging arousal. There is the hint of a command in his voice when Steve repeats, “What are you reading, Billy?”

“R-red-Red Dragon,” Billy responds hoarsely, fighting to stop himself from humping Steve like a fucking animal. He can’t stop himself from letting go of the table and sliding his hand under the cuffs of Steve’s slacks, wrapping his fingers around his ankle to keep him there.

Steve looks very pleased indeed and gives Billy’s dick another rub, finding his cockhead through his pants and flexing his toes right around it. “Steve,” he says weakly. “Are you trying to give me a fetish?”

Surprised, he asks “Do you have one?”

“No, but-” He holds in a whine and hisses, “Keep touchin’ my dick like that, and I’m gonna start having inappropriate thoughts about your feet, sweetheart.”

Surprised and curious now, Steve presses harder. “Can you come this way?”

“I don’t-I don’t know.” Billy has to hold back another whine and quickly lets go of his book before he can start accidentally ripping out pages. “Why…why are you…?”

Shyly, which is very rich coming from someone in the middle of giving him a footjob in public, Steve says “Just trying to make you feel good. Can’t use my hands from all the way over here.”

Despite these words, his stare on Billy is hungry, and he can hear Steve panting softly through his words. The distant part of his mind that’s still rational wonders what is that’s doing it for him – that Billy is kinda weirdly turned on by his feet, that Billy is somewhat at his mercy, or that anyone could catch them doing this. Or maybe it’s a little of all three.

Unable to take it any longer, Billy gently pulls Steve’s sock off, preferring to be able to touch warm skin, and cups the top of his foot against his dick. He strokes Steve’s ankle and rolls his hips as subtly as he can, swallowing a moan as Steve’s dark longing stare holds him captive.

“Dunno where you got an idea like this, heartbreaker,” Billy croaks.

“We can stop,” Steve suggests sweetly, pushing his heel against his aching balls and flexing his toes again. Watching Billy’s eyelashes flutter and the way the hand still on the table clenches and unclenches spastically. Steve nibbles his lower lip and lowers his voice to a suggestive, throaty husk “Or you can just come for me.”

“Steve.” He doesn’t know which is stronger, surprise or desperation or fear.

“Nobody’s watching,” he promises, still in that honey-sweet persuasive purr. He emphasizes this with an up and down rub against the denim seam and licks his lips with an obscene flick of the tongue.

Billy’s cock twitches hard, weeping pre-come into his boxers, and he knows that Steve can feel it because he’s losing the effort to hold in that wicked smile now. His tongue darts out again, like he can taste Billy in the air, and Steve squirms around like he’s trying to relieve the pressure on his own cock.

He sinks down in the booth and spreads this thighs apart, holding Steve against his prick with a little more pressure. He pleads “F-faster, darlin’. Just a little…”

Billy can feel the muscles and tendons in his ankle flexing and shifting as Steve immediately gives in, all coy teasing over as rubs at a pace clearly meant to bring Billy off even through the thick fabric. An echo from the past murmurs “Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.”

His lips form around a silent ‘fuck’, trying not to be extremely obvious when he bucks into the contact, choking off his noises to soft helpless whimpers.

“Fuck, you are so hot,” Steve breathes in the present, nostrils flaring. He’s almost openly panting now and his eyes look nearly black.

Black holes that want to completely consume him. Billy bites down a scream and comes, wet and sticky, because beneath that angel-faced sweetness is a wicked, hungry smile. Just for Billy.

Lazily, Steve takes a twenty dollar bill from his jacket and slaps it down onto the sticky table. “Gimme my sock back,” he says, collecting all his papers and fondly stroking down Billy’s thigh before taking his foot back. “Do you like French silk?”

“Who doesn’t?” Billy says faintly, dazed.

“Good,” Steve says, all sugar and sweetness again. Billy’s fucking dizzy, man. “I made us one. Let’s go.”

“Don’t you want…?” His eyes dart down to Steve’s lap.

“Already did,” and there’s a hint of that dark gleam again. “Watching you, baby.”

Holy fucking shit.

#harringrove #knock me out babe #teacher steve #soft billy

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hispeculiartreasure · 5 years

Text

All We’ve Got is Time - Chapter Nine | B.B.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

AU: If They’d Survived/Post-War/Window Washer!Bucky Barnes

Rating: Teen

Word count: 5,500

Chapter 9/24

Warnings: A bad word, a barely-violent bar skirmish

AN: Thank you for patiently awaiting this chapter! This posting schedule is much, much more suitable. You are all so lovely and supportive. Let me know your thoughts on this chapter! And send me an ask if you’d like to be tagged.

Fun fact, the Commando Cocktail was actually on the Stork Club’s drink menu in the late 1940s! It definitely had a more sensuous namesake but I just took an opportunity and ran with it 😉

Chapter Eight

‘All We’ve Got is Time’ Masterlist

First thing in the morning the bullpen is already abuzz with squeals and giggles. The typists of the office huddle around their sweet friend as she holds out her hand, the square cut diamond sparkling in the morning light.

“It’s beautiful, Dorothy. Congratulations,” you purr, squeezing her fingers after perusing the jewelry close-up.

“I’m assuming he asked you in an insanely romantic way?” Millie sighs, chin perched in her hands.

“Yeah, tell us the story!” Frances giggles.

Dorothy settles into her chair, eyes shining. As she begins her tale Suzy leans in to you and whispers, “We’re dropping like flies around here. Alice last week, Dorothy today. And they’re some of the youngest. If you come in next week with a ring I’ll toss you out a window.”

You hide a smile behind your hand. “Relax, Suze. It’s sweet.”

“So sweet my teeth are gonna rot,” she grumbles.

“Cynicism is not a good look on you.”

Suzy huffs and turns a dazzling smile to Dorothy as the remaining girls continue to ask questions. The two of you take steps toward your desk and Suzy sighs deeply. “All of a sudden people are marrying like there’s no tomorrow. Five years ago if people were getting hitched after courting for six months your parents locked you in your room until the vapors wore off.”

“Are you jealous?”

The redhead scoffs. “No, but. . . the change has got me. . .” she twists to you, the cynic having been replaced by someone much more forlorn. “It’s got me feeling like I’m behind, ya know?”

“Aw, Suze.” You take her hand in yours. “I get it. The war changed a lot of things, a lot of people.”

“Yeah. Guess so.” A moment passes before she clears her throat and takes her hand back, smoothing her skirt before she motions to your desk. “You’ve been busting your tail this morning. Why’d you get here early?”

“I’ve got lunch plans. Wanted Flannery to know I wasn’t shirking my job by staying out long. Would you believe she was here when I came in at 7?”

“Lord, does that woman sleep?”

“Unclear.” You both turn to watch the back of Flannery’s head bent over her desk, firmly ignoring the fuss over the engagement ring.

“Well. Hope you have a good lunch.” With a wink and a bounce of curls Suzy is gone.

Your fingers fly over your typewriter as you eye the clock, praying your boss doesn’t approach your desk with a new task before lunchtime. With a record number of letters typed, addressed, and sealed up you leave your swivel-chair spinning when your break begins.

Wicker basket in hand you savor the sunshine on your skin as you walk a few blocks to the building Bucky’s team is currently working on. You round the structure, lifting a hand to shield your eyes against the high sun as you look for your boyfriend among the people hanging off of the skyscraper. It’s almost laughable how much he stands out from the other men in his crew.

Where most of the boys are thin and gangly, Bucky is lean and formidable. His work was neat and efficient, an obvious routine to his movements. While you did enjoy your view from several stories down. . .

Bringing your fingers to your mouth you whistle shrilly, causing every head to swivel down to you. You can’t decipher many of Bucky’s features but you can tell he’s smiling the same dopey smile he’d had after you’d shared that first kiss a few weeks ago.

Around the grin he yells, “What’re you doing here, Sixth Floor?”

“Bringing you lunch, Sergeant! Unless you’d rather me go,” you shout back, tossing a thumb over your shoulder.

“I’ll be right down.” You watch as he slowly descends, breathing a sigh when his feet safely meet the ground.

“Hello, beautiful,” a kiss lands on your cheek while he dries his hands on a towel.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.”

You toss him one end of a thin blanket you’d packed. “I’m assuming you’re not too good for a picnic?”

He catches it with a hum and mirrors your unfolding, settling it to the ground beneath the shade of a tree in the courtyard. “I dunno. My delicate sensibilities may be set off-balance.”

“Are your delicate sensibilities offended by sandwiches and fruit?”

“I think they can be persuaded to cooperate, unless you forgot the coffee.”

“You think I’m stupid?” you say as you pull the thermos out of your basket.

Arranging your skirt to maintain modesty you take a seat on your blanket. Bucky sits near before reclining to rest his weight on his elbow, body turned toward you.

“Today been okay?” you ask as he takes the wrapped sandwich you offer.

“Just like any other day. It’s blazing hot up there; one of the guys almost had a heat stroke.”

“Goodness, I hope you’ve been drinking water.”

His eyes soften as he replies, “Yes ma’am. By the way, I have an appointment with a local job counselor next week.”

“Bucky, that’s fantastic!” you enthuse, grabbing his arm.

“Fingers crossed he can help me figure out how to head towards being a mechanic.”

“I sure hope so. I’m proud of you for reaching out to him. This is a great start.”

Before you can ask why he’s gazing at you adoringly he asks, “How’s work been?”

“Busy. Our business year is almost done so our mail has been stacking up. Plus I’m pretty certain Anderson’s mistress broke up with him: he’s been in an extra testy mood. Oh, and Dorothy got engaged last night.”

“I thought that happened last week?”

“No, that was Alice.”

“Hard to keep it all straight,” Bucky mutters as he guzzles his cup of coffee.

You can’t help a giggle. “That’s exactly what Suzy said. Dorothy seems happy, though.” Bucky only hums in thought.

The next several minutes are quiet, spent enjoying each other’s presence as you people watch and eat.

“Dinner tomorrow?”

“Mhmm,” you hum affirmatively around a mouthful of grape.

You sense a hesitancy in Bucky as he stares at his cookie. After a big gulp he says, “Do ya wanna do drinks after with Steve and Peggy?”

Your stomach drops. “You want me to meet them?”

“I do.”

A million thoughts stampede through your brain in the span of three seconds. This is a big deal. They mean a lot to Bucky. These are his best friends. What if they hate me. What if I’m not good enough, what if one word from them means Bucky never speaks to me again? What if-

“Only say yes if you want to, I don’t wanna pressure you-”

“No no no no,” you blurt, shaking your head. “I want to. It’s just. . .”

“Just what?” Words leave you, an empty silence hanging in their place. “Tell me,” Bucky nudges, hand tangling with yours.

“It’s an intimidating prospect.”

“Because of what they do? Really, they aren’t that big of a deal, just have jobs that-”

“Not intimidating because of who they are. But who they are to you, Bucky.” His eyebrows furrow, so you continue. “Steve has been your lifelong best friend and you’ve been to war and back with Peggy, literally. I’m honored that you want them to meet me but at the same time. . .”

“Wait -” he leans back. “Do you think they aren’t going to like you?”

“There’s always a chance-”

Bucky had the nerve to laugh - not a laugh of derision, but genuine disbelief. “Not a chance in the world. Steve knows you’re special. He knows me better than I know myself, he’s seen how I’ve been since you. And Peggy. . . she may be a harder sell. But that’s got nothing to do with you. It’ll go fine. Okay?” And with his fingers running up and down your arm, who are you to question him?

“Okay.” You shove half a cookie in your mouth to stave off the urgent impulse to run away.

------

“They’re late because they already hate me right?”

Bucky scoffs, leaning his elbows onto the table in the back of the club. “How can they hate you when they don’t even know you? I already told you, Steve called before I left to pick you up. Something popped up at work and a meeting was going to run long. They should be done right about-” he checks his watch, “-now. They’ll be here soon. But to me it sounds like you’re complaining about getting extra time with me.”

You shove at his arm and grumble, “Oh shush.” All he does is chuckle. The band playing loudly from the corner does little to calm your nerves. Every few minutes you pat down your hair for flyways and make sure your dress isn’t wrinkled. You twirl the ring on your right hand over and over before Bucky’s hand stops your fidgeting with a gentle touch.

“You okay? I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“Just because I may always seem confident doesn’t mean I am. Few people get to see me with the jitters.” You slant your eyes to his. “Consider it an honor of yours.”

He opens his mouth to presumably soothe you before something over your shoulder catches his attention. “There he is.” You turn as Bucky stands to greet Captain Steven Rogers and suddenly you understand why Connie is such a fan.

You’d seen the posters and pictures of him in uniform but seeing him sport a suit and tie was another ball game. Somehow his golden hair shines bright under the dull lighting which also cast a beautiful shadow across his broad shoulders. He seems impossibly taller with every purposeful step to your table, jaw set in a firm line.

But then the biggest smile washes across his face as he steps into Bucky for a hug. As men do, they pat each other on the back and part - suddenly Steve’s attention is all on you. Blue eyes so similar to Bucky’s grow warm.

“It is so nice to finally meet you,” he offers his hand. “You’re all he’s been talking about.”

You laugh and grasp his hand, introducing yourself. You glance to Bucky, worrying he’d be bothered by the admission of him discussing you. He’s remarkably at ease, shoulders dropped, face relaxed.

“Where’s Peggy?” Bucky asks.

Steve gestures dramatically as the three of you take your seats. “She was pulled aside for a private meeting on our way out the door. But she shouldn’t be too long.”

“Never thought you’d be the one in a relationship with work-life balance,” Bucky jabs.

“And you never miss an opportunity to badger me about my work.”

“Yes, I’ve heard you two are quite the pair,” you look between the two men.

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Oh, we’ve got some stories.” As he dives into a story involving a rock mysteriously hurtling through the window of the Barnes’ family home you can’t help but be a bit shocked.

His presence commands attention but his demeanor is overtly disarming, daresay gentle. With a boy-ish charm he animatedly tells the story, strongly disagreeing with Bucky’s adjustment of details. You were expecting a hardened war hero, rough and tumble with scars to show for it. This extremely young man was the last thing you were expecting to walk through the door. You feel a peace settle over you as the men tell their childhood story in tandem.

Bucky gives you a moment of eye contact and his lips twitch to a smile. Not so bad right?

The delightful verbal sparring is interrupted by three giggling women - well, girls. They bounce up to the table, looking barely old enough to be allowed into the bar. Gushing about Captain America this, Howling Commandos that, they talk over each other getting louder by the moment. Steve smiles tight and you take note of how much his posture has shifted. Shoulders squared back, adjusting his tie every few moments. Several autographs later the women are finally guided back to their table by a helpful waitress.

Viscerally experiencing a shift between Captain Rogers to Steve to Captain America had you reeling. Seems the duty of being America’s Golden Boy came with some steep costs. Minutes later the same waitress reappears, apologetically placing a drink to your table.

“A Commando cocktail for you sir, from the same three ladies.” Steve sighs and pushes the drink to the middle of the table, decidedly ignoring the eager glances of the gaggle of girls across the room. “May I refresh anyone’s beverage?”

“I’ll have a Sidecar and she,” Steve points to the empty seat next to him, “will have a whiskey, neat.”

“Make that two,” Bucky adds.

You indicate that you’re still working on your first before eyeing the gifted drink between you. “The Commando cocktail. . . did your special ops team have a drink named in your honor?” you ask, perplexed.

Bucky moves his head from side to side. “Could be us. Could have a different meaning. I hope to God it’s not us, you’d think someone would have the decency not to mix bourbon and absinthe in our honor.”

Steve changes the subject to avoid any more embarrassment on his part. “I hear you’re a mechanic,” he leans in with interest.

“Was,” you correct. “Now I’m just a secretary.”

“A typist,” Bucky corrects you in turn. “And I’d say your skills are still pretty up-to-date.”

“Updated enough to do a house call? My Harley’s been making a funny noise, maybe you’d be able to fix it,” Steve says with a chuckle.

“I’d love to take a look at it. Is it high-pitched or low? The vibrations in motorcycles tend to knock the batteries dead fast.”

Steve does his best to smother how impressed he is behind his drink.

“Don’t know what good fixing it will do ya Steve, you’re just going to end up throwing it at something again,” Bucky scolds as he takes his own sip.

“Doing. . . throwing. . . what?” You ask.

Steve blushes, moving to answer when Bucky interrupts him. “This guy has thrown more bikes at enemies than days I spent as a POW. Just ‘cause you’re strong enough to toss ‘em doesn’t mean you should, pal.”

A clipped British accent floats over your table. “Don’t tell me you two are at it again over those motorbikes.”

You turn toward the voice and realize you had not known the definition of intimidation until you’d seen Peggy Carter. She almost perfectly matches Steve’s earlier confident stride except for the click of her heels. After a full day of work her makeup was flawless, accompanied by chestnut hair curled to perfection. High-waisted trousers followed a perfect line to her feet - paired with her simple white blouse and she was one of the most stunning women you’d ever laid eyes on.

The three of you stand as she arrives at the table. “Bucky, always lovely to see you,” she gives him a brief hug before turning on her heel to face you. There’s a sharpness to her gaze as she quickly looks you up and down. “Peggy Carter, pleased to finally meet you.” The handshake you share is firm, inspecting. Just like that, every defense you’d relaxed with Steve was right back in place.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Peggy.” She nods once and narrows her eyes slightly before turning to Steve.

“Hello, darling,” she hums to him with a subtle touch to his arm.

“Did your meeting go okay? Looked intense,” Steve pulls Peggy’s chair out for her before she sits and Bucky does the same for you.

“Bureaucratic nonsense, I’m afraid. I’ll fill you in later,” brown eyes cut to you and Bucky before giving a miniscule shake of her head. “Now what were we discussing?”

“We were talking about the ace mechanic at the table.” Was that a hint of a brag you heard in Bucky’s voice?

“Ah, yes. I heard of your time working in the factory. Do tell us more,” Peggy says breezily before sipping her whiskey.

You share the same story you’d shared with Bucky on your first date - though slightly less eloquently. While Steve reacts encouragingly and asks questions, Peggy sits in relative silence. Every time you turn her way, she’s watching you. Anyone passing by the table would just see someone listening; you could see the analysis rolling through her mind.

Once the conversation shifts you feel a warm hand gently resting on your knee for the briefest of moments. A sweet, It’s okay gesture from Bucky while he reminisced of their days overseas. Mere weeks into this and he could already read you like a book. Then again, reading each other was what started this whole thing, wasn’t it?

“. . . don’t you think?”

The awkward silence prompts you to shake out of your thoughts and glance around the table, everyone looking at you expectantly.

“I’m sorry, say again?”

Peggy drains her glass before setting her steeled gaze on you. “I was just observing that working with some men can tend to be draining. Have you shared that experience?”

You nod, choosing your words carefully - just as carefully as the question had been posed.

“I believe some men have difficulty accepting that a woman might be more knowledgeable in their field, due to their own presuppositions. I had hoped the way women stepped up to work during the war would have been celebrated but it only seems to have threatened the men that came back. I do hope that changes over time.”

She hums and adds a small, “Indeed” while Steve gives a sympathetic smile. “And how did you come to find out about Bucky’s war record?” The suspicion in her voice is minute, but still detectable.

“He had mentioned serving in Europe on our first date, so I knew he was a veteran. I didn’t find out about the. . . special operations until about a week later. One of my coworkers put two and two together when Bucky visited work one day and spilled the beans.”

Bucky grins in Steve’s direction. “She’s a big fan of yours, Stevie. Practically said she’d marry you on the spot.” Once again, Steve’s cheek dust pink.

“For which I apologized to Bucky for. It was mortifying. And unfair to have that reveal sprung on Bucky with no warning.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Bucky insists, hand finding yours under the table.

Abruptly Peggy stands, prompting the two boys to jump to their feet. “I’m going to powder my nose. Would you like to join me?” she directs your way.

“Umm. . .” Bucky catches the hint of panic in your eye and tilts his head. What’s the worst she can do? “Sure. Could use some freshening up myself.”

“Lovely. Excuse us, boys.” Peggy leads the way through the clusters of people, past the bar to the restroom. The door clicks behind you and you’re afraid Peggy will be able to hear how fast your heart is beating. She rummages through her handbag for a moment before settling herself in front of the mirror. You take a position to her right, utilizing the other half of the mirror.

Uncapping a tube of lipstick Peggy expertly applies a fresh coat to her already rose-petal-red lips. Even the way she applied makeup was daunting. And you can’t shake the feeling that she’s waiting for you to speak first.

You clear your throat as you brush your fingers through your hair. “Thank you for taking the time to meet us tonight. I know how important you and Steve are to Bucky.”

“Hmm, yes, it’s our pleasure. They are very important to me as well. Both of them.”

Oh boy.

“The three of us have been through a war together, after all. You don’t come out of that without feeling a certain level of loyalty. I believe Steve and I share a concern for Bucky’s wellbeing.”

“Have I done something to make you particularly suspicious of me?”

As she turns to you, her softened features take you by surprise. “Whether he admits it or not, Bucky is an attractive, semi-notable public figure who happens to be attached to an extremely public figure. I wouldn’t put it past a woman to use Bucky to try to get close to Steve. Girls have tried before.” She checks one pin behind her ear before stepping to the door again.

You blink several times before responding. “And you think I’m one of those girls?”

“Not anymore.” She takes a few steps back to you. “My main concern for him now is the fact that he’s. . . in a vulnerable place. The war left many soldiers trying to find their footing. I want to make sure he doesn’t get tipped over in the process. I’d hate for him to feel any unnecessary pain if I could have headed it off from the start.”

“I. . . I do care for him, Peggy.” You face your reflection again, hands resting on the sink. “I had absolutely no intention of becoming romantically involved with someone. And then he was so kind to me in an environment where men have been. . . less than kind. Everything I learn about him draws me in closer. The last thing I want to do is be a source of pain or volatility.”

With a shaky breath you search for eye contact again, finding a new warmth emanating from hers.

“Well, I suppose we can work with that,” she offers as she opens the door. The tense air shifts and you give a small smile as you pass through the door and begin to follow her back to the table.

You are just stepping around the bar when a feminine “That’s okay, really. . .” catches your attention. Following the voice, your attention is drawn to a young couple standing by the bartop. Although every moment they were starting to look less like a couple and more like a man with wandering hands. The girl tries to step back which only results in his meaty hand fisting into the side of her dress and pulling her chest to his. Based on her expression what the man had to say was less than proper. She struggles to step out of his grip which only seems to tighten the more she wiggles.

You’ve had enough of that.

You detour from the route you and Peggy had set toward the table. Peggy picks up on your absence and turns to watch you curiously.

“Excuse me,” you state more than ask. One pair of panicked eyes and another pair of glazed-over ones come to rest on your face. “Is everything alright here?”

“Ev’things swell, sweet dish. We’s just having a lil talk.”

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

“Is that true, Miss?”

“Um, I- I’m-” she attempts to squeak out before the man bellows again.

“Was my word not good enough for you? You tryin’ ta grandstand your feminine chops for some cool cat?”

“I was speaking to Miss-” you turn expectantly towards the girl who’s looking younger by the minute.

“Cartwright. Helen,” she whispers.

“I was speaking to Miss Cartwright so if you’d please take a step back, sir.”

“I don’t gotta do nothin’ you tell me to.” You pull Helen behind you which only makes the man more belligerent. He starts yelling less-than-appropriate words and soon his anger rounds on you.

Drawing up to your full height you stare the man dead in the eye. “Is this the way you treat all women? Or just the ones smaller than you?”

A giant hand wraps itself around your forearm, jerking you towards him. “Now listen here bitch, I-” Before he can finish his drunken thought, perfectly manicured fingers clutch his wrist. He’s violently pulled away from you, arm pinned behind his back - his face making intimate contact with the bartop.

“Now now,” Peggy coos. “That’s no way to treat friends of mine. Seems like you need a moment to cool down.” The brute strains against Peggy’s grip, a foot kicking back every so often. You land a spiked heel directly to the top of one of his feet, digging in for good measure when his howl of pain can be heard over the tune of the band. “Thank you for that, dear,” Peggy says, clearly enjoying the situation. A scuffle is heard behind you but you’re too focused on making sure the boar doesn’t hurt Peggy to pay it much mind.

“Looks like you two have things handled, but could I be of assistance?” Steve strides next to you, honeyed voice contrasting sharply with his stern gaze.

Peggy blows a puff of air at a curl that had fallen in front of her eyes. “Would you mind escorting this gentleman to the curb? I believe fresh air is in order.”

“My pleasure.” With the back of his collar fisted in Steve’s hand the bully has no choice but to have his face unceremoniously unstuck from the bar and pushed toward a back entrance. Peggy follows closely, speaking in the man’s ear the whole way out, waving off a pair of security guards.

You can feel Bucky’s presence but turn your attention to the now-shaking young woman, bringing your hands up to her arms. “Helen, are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

She shakes her head. Tears hang stubbornly in her eyes, fighting not to show how shaken she really was over the ordeal.

“I’m sorry he put his hands on you. Do you have anyone you can call?” She nods, reaching for the purse hanging off of her wrist. “That’s great.” Your eyes drift to Helen’s waist. “Oh dear. Looks like you didn’t make it completely unscathed.”

Helen’s gaze follows yours before she lets out a dismayed sigh. “I just picked this dress up from the cleaner’s yesterday.” She fingers the ripped fabric of her dress. Now tears are flowing freely.

“It’s only ripped on the seam, that can be fixed in a jiffy.” You look over your shoulder at Bucky and ask him to retrieve your light coat from the table. He’s gone and back in a flash and you drape it over Helen’s shoulders. “Take this to cover up on your way home. Let me find a pen and paper and I can write down the information for my favorite seamstress in the city. Her prices are fair and her work is solid.” A scrap of paper and a pencil are produced from your purse and you add your information at the bottom. “In case you need anything else while you’re in the city,” you explain as you hand the note over.

“How can I get your coat back to you?” Helen asks as she buttons it closed.

“Don’t worry about it,” you dismiss. “It’s almost summer and I was due for a new jacket anyway. Just stay safe, okay?” You wipe a few leftover tears from her face and nod in encouragement as she heads to the phone booth by the entrance.

“Are you alright?” Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of Bucky’s close proximity, his hand gently raising up your forearm toward a lamp on the bar.

“Um, I think so. He grabbed me pretty good but it shouldn’t be too bad.” You rub the area the drunk had gripped and hiss softly at the tenderness of your skin. “It’ll heal.”

“I guess I don’t need to tell you that was incredibly stupid?” Bucky attempts to sound nonchalant but the slight edge to his voice gives him away.

“Probably not. But it’s better this than something even worse happening to Helen because I ignored it.”

“My God, there’s another one of him.” You both face a newly arrived Peggy who is taming her curls, Steve not too far behind.

Bucky grumbles, “Evidently.”

“That took an exciting turn. What say we cut a rug to forget that jerk?” Steve steps to your side. “May I have the honor, ma’am?” He asks, offering a hand to you.

“Me? Oh, sure.” You settle your hand in his lightly, looking to Bucky for his confirmation. He quirks his mouth to one side, nods subtly. He’s harmless.

As Steve gives you a simple twirl onto the dance floor you notice Peggy in Bucky’s arms a few couples away and you can’t help but wonder what they’re discussing. As you and Steve move around the room Peggy speaks steadily, Bucky hanging onto every word.

“You alright?” Steve’s deep voice snaps your attention back to him. He’s watching you empathetically.

“Just been a bit of a rockier night than I expected,” you say with a half-hearted chuckle. You catch yourself relaxing in Steve’s arms - not the way you did in Bucky’s, obviously. But there was still a soothing sense of security coming off of Steve in waves. “I pictured this going much differently.”

He breathes a laugh as he spins you out and brings you back in. “It’s going about as I expected, except I wasn’t the one causing trouble tonight. Thanks for that.”

A genuine smile breaks your sobriety. “Just hope it didn’t ruin yours and Peggy’s opinions of me.”

“Hardly!” he says with glee. “I already knew I would like you and the bit at the bar probably sealed the deal for Peg.”

“Really? Because I got the feeling she isn’t my biggest fan.”

“Ah, she’s just protective and tough. The first time she got really angry with me she grabbed the nearest pistol and fired four shots at me.” Steve laughs at how comically wide your eyes grow. “I deserved it. But there’s a lot of love and care beneath the cool gazes and harsh tone.” He catches your eye and clears his throat. “Although I’m not the one who told you that,” he whispers conspiratorially.

A grin overtakes your face. “Thanks for that. Makes me feel a little better.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about. It’s driving you crazy not being able to hear what they’re talking about right now, huh?”

You sigh, the pair of you circling around where Bucky and Peggy are in both your sights. “You’re not wrong.”

“Did Bucky ever tell you the specific effects the serum had on me?”

“Made you super strong, super fast? That’s the gist of what I got.”

“To accompany that, all my senses are heightened. I can smell my favorite bakery across the city, can read signs a mile or two away. And,” he looks down at you mischievously, “I can hear just about every conversation in this room.”

“You can? That has to be insanely overwhelming.”

“It was for the first few months. Then I learned how to tune certain things in and out. You wanna eavesdrop with me?”

You shake your head, “Oh, I don’t-umm, I’d hate to pry.”

“You don’t have to. I’m going to.” Oh, you really like Steve.

Steve turns you so he has a clear view of his best friends and seems to focus intently beyond your shoulder.

“Peggy said something about being careful how quickly he moves forward with you. Bucky just asked Peggy why she was trying to scare you away earlier. She says she was testing your resolve, which stood up better than she expected,” he spares a glance to you, “Bravo to you on that. Peggy says she admired your action with the young woman at the bar. Bucky’s not surprised that you stepped in when there was trouble . . and now they’re just talking shit about me, which is their usual topic of discussion. Did that help?”

“It did. Thank you, Steve.”

“Anytime.”

Quiet follows for a few bars of the song, your brain mulling over the whole night.

After another turn Steve asks, “You haven’t met the family yet, right?”

“Right. Bucky’s dodged the subject more than once. I haven’t pushed it.”

Steve grimaces. “I can’t really blame him. I love the Barneses like they’re my own, but they can be overwhelming sometimes.”

“So I’ve gathered. Honestly, all I know is that he has three sisters and that was only shared in a few asides.”

“Three sisters, all younger. Becca, Rose, and Evelyn. He’s close to his Ma and Becca. Him and Rose don’t have many issues, mostly because they never spent a lot of time together. Things with Evelyn are strained because she’s turning into an adult and Bucky is having a hard time letting her. And his father. . .” Steve weighs his words. “His father is old-fashioned and always will be. They don’t get along.”

“Sounds like that’ll be a fun meeting.”

“When the time comes, you’ll do great.” Steve was so earnest in his reassurance you couldn’t help but believe him.

“May I cut in?” you turn to Bucky’s voice, glad to see him smiling.

“Only if you trade for this gorgeous partner of yours,” Steve teases, mocking a bow to Peggy.

“Oh sod off,” she scolds as Steve pulls her close while the band begins playing a new song.

You nestle into Bucky’s side with a hand tucked in his, relishing in the ease of a moment alone together.

“You good?” Bucky whispers when the song has almost come to an end.

Pulling back, you match his amorous gaze. “Yeah. I’m good.” A soft kiss meets your temple and you practically melt further into Bucky.

“Thanks for coming tonight.”

“Thanks for asking me.”

“Try not to be too much trouble next time, huh?”

“No promises, Barnes.”

Chapter Ten

Tags:

@moderapoppins @lookwhatyoumademequeue @lucyyannabel@crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons @thinkwritexpress-official @fearless2tobeme @laneygthememequeen @past-perfect-future-tense @drhughgrection @promarvelfangirl @connorshero @anditwasjustus @p3nny4urth0ught5 @usernamemingmei @the-canary @thorfanficwriter @blueskiesbleakeyes @silverwing2522 @satansmushroom @nerd-without-a-cause @barnesrogersvstheworld @firewolf-marvels @reginaphlanageadams @kiliakit @forsaken-letters @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @part-time-patronus @biavastarr @ellaenchanted91 @ihopeyousteponarosepetal @handfulof-roses @bloatedandlonly @barnestruck @itsbuckysworld @captainsbuck @writemarvelousthings @marvelous-avengers @havanaangel @animeflower26 @igotkatiepowers @clockworkherondale @buckybarneshairpullingkink @abovethesmokestacks @lucyyannabel @ursulaismymiddlename @hiddles-rose @thisismysecrethappyplace @palaiasaurus64 @fanfic-diaries @fangirlfictionmain @creideamhgradochas @mcueveryday @cassianpeia

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes Reader Insert #1940s Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes Series #Bucky Barnes x You #All We've Got is Time #Chapter Nine #beka writes #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction

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softboywriting · 5 years

Text

More Than Anything | Shawn Mendes

Summary: After a year together, Shawn says I love you for the first time.

Word Count: 1.3k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Shawn's hands are a gift from the Gods. You understand now what all the girls on social media were on about. His hands were amazing and easily one of your favorite things about him other than...well...literally everything. You would hold them, play with them, put your fingers between his. He knows they are your weakness, your absolute downfall, and he uses that knowledge to his advantage all the time.

It's a Saturday night and Shawn has been ignoring his phone for hours, even left it in the bedroom for good measure. He doesn't want to see anyone but you. He is fresh off tour, home for a full month, and he wants to spend as much time as he can with you. He used to call up the guys, go out, hit the clubs, but not since the two of you got together. Not since he's been missing you like crazy, being gone for increasingly long lengths of time.

The two of you haven't gone public, it's been over a year now that you've been together and you would rather not go public for as long as you can. It's convenient, living in the same building and dating Shawn. No one suspected the woman who was always coming and going, that clearly lived there. If the two of you went out, you just took separate cars and met up where ever you were going. It wasn't as hard to hide in Toronto as it may seem but still Shawn always worried someone would see the two of you together. He wanted to keep you to himself, didn't want to hear what anyone else had to say. It wasn't anyone else's business.

Shawn wanted a night in, time to relax for a while. You had no problem with that, actually preferring it over a night out. So here you are, laying between his legs, playing with his hand, fiddling with his ring and not paying attention to the movie on the big screen in front of you. He doesn't ask why you are so interested in his hands anymore, he just lets you do your thing. You like to play with his rings; what ever one he picks to wear that week, and you rub your thumbs along his palm, trace the bit of callous where his fingers hit the guitar strings. You just like it. You like his hands and they are so much bigger than yours that your favorite thing to do is put your palms together and see the size difference.

His other hand goes to your hair and you melt, head lolling against his chest. His short nails scratch gently against your scalp, lulling you into a placid state. He knows this will get you relaxed, putty in his hands. You drop his other hand and he slides it under you shirt, slightly rough fingers massaging across your soft stomach. He's got you wrapped around his finger and he knows it.

“You're always so soft baby,” he purrs, lips close to your ear, placing a little kiss on the outer shell. “And you smell so good.” He presses his nose against your hair and snuffles a bit. “Like coconut and vanilla.”

“Mmm I showered before I came over. It's probably my shampoo.”

“I love it.” He nudges his nose against your ear and places a soft kiss once more. “and I love you.”

Your heart stops. Neither of you had said that yet. It had never come up, and frankly you had wanted to say it very early on but didn't want to risk making things awkward. You feel your body swell with love, overwhelming you with emotion. You're about to open your mouth and say it back but suddenly the front door is opening and four of Shawn's friends are clamoring in loudly.

“Shawn! You alive dude? We've been texting you all...” Brian's words trail off as he spots you tangled up in Shawn on the sofa. “Fuck.”

“Yo dude, what the- oh shit.” Matt raises his eyebrows and the other two guys behind them fall silent too.

You flush, cheeks getting hot as you just stare as the guys before you. You realize how this must look, their friend tangled up with some girl they have never met. Silence fills the apartment. The awkward tension nearing palpable levels.

“Get the fuck out guys!” Shawn says loudly in annoyance. He sits you up and crawls out from behind you to deal with the brood that has just busted in. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I am so sorry man. I had no idea you had company.” Brain turns away from you and looks to Shawn. “We just thought you were ignoring us because you were in one of your weird moods.”

“Yeah, we didn't know you had company.”

Shawn sighs heavily. “Well you shouldn't be busting in people's apartments anyway. Now can you please go? I'm sort of in the middle of something.”

“You're not even going to introduce us?” One of the guys asks, looking over at you and you sink into the cushions in an attempt to hide.

“Fuck no. Get out, now.” Shawn herds the four guys to the door and they shuffle out like scolded dogs.

Shawn locks the door and walks back over to the couch. He scoots you over, settling against the cushions before pulling you back to where you were between his legs. “I'm so sorry about that.”

“It's not your fault.”

“It is. I should have replied to them and said I didn't want to hang out tonight. They never would have just showed up.”

You pick up his hand and he threads his fingers between yours. You bring it up and kiss over his knuckles. They look a little bruised. Probably from the gym. “Did you mean what you said before?”

“What did I say?”

“Shawn, come on.”

He giggles, kissing your head, a smile in his voice as he says, “What did I say?” And you know he's playing with you.

“You said, I love you.”

“And I do,” he says as he wraps his arms around you tight. He leans you to the side and kisses you softly, lips just a little off center due to the angle. “I love you more than anything.”

“Shawn, you can't possibly mean that.” You reach up, tangling a hand in his messy curls. “You love other things far more than me.”

“Mmm I'm pretty sure I don't.” He closes his eyes as you tug his hair just a bit. You know his weaknesses too. “You're special.”

“I-”

“I've said it before, in loads of interviews. I believe I'll know when I've fallen in love and that I'll know when I have found the one because it will consume me in a way only love can. When I couldn't stop thinking about you; and I couldn't sleep without telling you goodnight every night while I was on tour, when it was hard to focus on anything but you, I knew that I had found that sort of love that people only hope for.”

You turn around in his hold, positioning yourself so you're sitting in his lap, facing him. He puts his hands on your hips, staring at you with the softest love filled gaze you've ever seen. He's sure. He means what he says, every word of it. Your hands go to his face, cupping his cheeks, feeling the beginning of a light stubble against your palms. This is the man you've fallen in love with. The kindest, softest, most perfect but flawed, gorgeous man, and he's all yours. Tears form in your eyes and you feel you chest tightening up.

“Shh shh don't cry,” he murmurs, hands coming up and cupping your cheek, thumbs wiping away a stray tear. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong. I just love you,” you say quietly, lip trembling and voice threatening to break.

He grins, goofy and sweet. That handsome face glowing as he kisses you softly, pressing his forehead to yours.

You smile, letting out a little laugh. “I've loved you for so long.”

“Me too baby. Me too.”

______________________________

Please reblog and review! All comments, replies, asks and messages are appricated! Thank you! -A

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mythiica · 5 years

Text

Mitsuhide Akechi x Reader x Mitsunari Ishida - Celebrating Victory

Title: Celebrating Victory

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Character: Mitsuhide Akechi, Mitsunari Ishida

Genre: smut suggested by the wonderful @plumpblueberry

Warnings: double the mitsu’s, double the sin, double the fun ;)

Kinks (in the order they appear): Three-way, femdom, blowjob, degradation, oral, fingering, anal, nipple play, biting

Intended Gender Audience: Female audience

Word Count: 1778 words

Other comments: sleep time

Nobunaga calls for a celebration – the victory of the Oda forces means that the entirety of Japan under Nobunaga would be spending the following week happy out of their minds. Azuchi found itself filled with vassals toasting to their lords while stuffing their faces with the fattest meat in the country.

Even you enjoy the festivities. Nobunaga requires you to stay near him – after all, you are his lucky charm. As you stumble around the room, refilling everyone’s glasses with alcohol your foot catches in the edge of the mat. You fall forward, but Mitsuhide catches you swiftly before you have a chance to collide with the ground.

With a hiccup, you give him a smile and bat your eyelashes at him. “T-Thank you, Lord Mitsuhide.” You brush the edges of your kimono down and stand up straight. “Nearly spilled the sake,” you joke, holding up the half-empty bottle. The clear liquid swirls around inside, and you watch it for a moment, mesmerized by the tornado that forms inside.

Mitsuhide chuckles. “You don’t seem to hold your sake very well, now do you, little mouse?” There is a spark in his eyes, but you only see it for a split second as the torches flicker. The corners of his lips curl upwards and form a smirk.

“Well, I try to…” you mumble in response. You feel your cheeks flare up with heat, but you’re unsure if it is from embarrassment or from the liquor. Upon covering your face, you turn away slightly. “Apologies, my lord.”

You walk around the table and take your seat next to Nobunaga and Mitsunari. As you pour more for Nobunaga, Mitsunari slumps over and leans his head against you. As you go rigid, Mitsunari wraps his arms around your waist, strings of incoherent syllables falling from his lips. You catch a few of his words here and there, but you decide that Mitsunari has certainly had enough for the night.

“Excuse me, Lord Nobunaga, but I believe that it time for Lord Mitsunari and myself to turn in for the night.”

He squints at you, wishing you would stay, but when he sees Mitsunari’s head dropping, he waves his hand to send you off. “Leave the sake though. We’ll be finishing it before the morning arrives.”

You set the bottle down and hoist Mitsunari up the best you can. However, because he is particularly intoxicated, Mitsunari drops his entire weight onto you. Your knees buckle slightly and you struggle to keep him lighted, but you aren’t strong enough to hold him and yourself upright. As he slips from your grip, you suddenly feel his weight lift from you.

Turning your head, you meet Mitsuhide’s intense gaze. He wears his infamous smirk and nods at the door.

Mitsuhide helps you carry Mitsunari to his room, and when you arrive, you have a hard time removing Mitsunari’s arms from around you. His fingers hook in the collar of the fabric, and as he falls to the ground, he pulls it down, exposing your breasts to the both of them. Gasping by your indecency, you move to cover yourself, but your movements are retarded by the sake.

As you pull your kimono over yourself, you hear Mitsuhide click his tongue. “Little mouse…” When you hear his pet name for you, you turn around to meet him. He stands directly in front of you, his golden eyes pinning you in place. “The sake smells so inviting on your skin, little mouse…” he drawls. The lit in his voice suggests he desires more, so you lean forward until your lips graze across his.

Before you have a chance to kiss Mitsuhide properly, Mitsunari tugs on your skirt. “My lady…” He looks up at you, over the rims of his glasses. “He is not wrong… you are beautiful.”

The compliments from both of them makes you blush a deep shade of red, but your thoughts are rapidly consumed by dirty fantasies. Toying with the idea for a moment, you push Mitsuhide down onto the armrest and turn your attention to Mitsunari. Guiding him to the futon, you haphazardly dug at the ties keeping his robes closed, pulling them open. Mitsunari watches you with large eyes, waiting patiently for what is to come.

You lace your fingers around his hardened member, pumping his length slowly. You giggle as Mitsunari squirms, propping himself up on his arms. He is unsure what to do with his hands, so he grips the sheets of the futon instead before throwing his head back and moaning. Under the influence of the alcohol, Mitsunari is much more vocal than you imagined, but his reaction only fuels you more.

From the corner of your eye, you can see Mitsuhide leaning back against the armrest. His attention is completely devoted to you as he watches you with a lustful hunger in his eyes. To give Mitsuhide a show, you drag your tongue along Mitsunari’s cock at a painfully slow pace. Your breath is heavy with the scent of sake and your eyelids droop slightly as you hold your gaze with Mitsunari.

Blush dusts his cheeks as a strangled groan escapes his lips. Precum weeps from his tip, so you drag your tongue flat against his most sensitive spot, coaxing more lewd sounds from his throat. The heat between your legs grows hotter, but you finger the base of his cock. The way Mitsunari unravels for you makes you giddy with pleasure. He pants heavily and pushes his glasses up his nose. “P-Princess, he whimpers, lifting his hand to run his fingers through your hair. When you press your thumb to his tip, he grips you tightly, inhaling sharply.

You’re tempted to laugh at your dominance, but before you do, you feel a sudden breeze as the end of your kimono is raised. Mitsuhide takes no time to tease you, and instead removes your undergarments. Without warning, he drags his tongue across your folds, making you sink to the ground. Mitsuhide holds your thighs, keeping your backside lifted towards him, allowing himt a wider range to pleasure you.

Distracted by Mitsuhide’s advances, you neglect to give Mitsunari attention, so he curls his fingers around your shin, beckoning you to look at him. “Princess, please-”

At his words, your heart flutters, and you scoot up and kiss Mitsunari deeply. You push your tongue into his mouth as he cups your face tenderly. When you pull back, he teeths slightly on your bottom lip.

“That’s a bold move,” you giggle, dragging your finger down his chest. “Mitsunari…” You plan to say more, but Mitsuhide takes the liberty of inserting two fingers into you. So instead, you help out and fall against Mitsunari’s chest. He wraps his arms around you and kisses your neck, biting gently across your throat. Moans vibrate your vocal chords, making Mitsuhide purr with pleasure.

“Princess, you say?” Mitsuhide teases, “What a princess you are in this position…” He pulls your folds apart with one hand to expose your clit. Continuing to pump his fingers in and out of you, he drags his tongue across your sensitive bundle. This causes you to moan particularly loud, and the sounds echoes off of the walls. “You’re more like a common street whore when you make sounds like that.”

Curses fly out of your mouth, and Mitsunari presses his fingers into your mouth. “No, don’t say that.. You are far too beautiful to be saying such ugly things.”

You laugh at the irony of his words. “He’s right,” you pant, grinding yourself against Mitsuhide’s tongue. Your juices flow from your heat and your legs tremble as pleasure consumes you. Happiness bubbles in the pit of your abdomen, and you lower your head, pressing your forehead against Mitsunari’s. Sweat mattes his hair down, and you can hear his heart thundering within his chest.

As you reach your climax, Mitsuhide removes himself and pushes your hips down so that you land on Mitsunari’s member. He grinds against you immediately, your essence lubricating his member. Mitsunari moans and his hands fly to his cock, positioning himself as to enter you. You sit down on him, his member filling you until you are content.

Limbs fly everywhere, and you lose track of what hands belong to what man. Your entire upper body is numb from kisses and bites, but you manage to keep yourself bouncing up and down on Mitsunari’s member.

Mitsuhide laughs, but his voice is sore from moaning. “Like I said, you’re acting more like a slut than a princess. Is this what happens when the Princess of Azuchi drinks too much~?” His hand flies across your bare ass cheek, and the moment of pain makes you hiss. “You enjoy this, don’t you?”

You whine, and Mitsunari takes your nipple between his lips.

“Answer, little mouse.” Mitsuhide sits up and pumps his throbbing member. He had been denying himself proper pleasure as to tease you properly, but now he demands that he enjoy himself as well. “I want to hear you say it.” He rubs the tip of his cock against your other hole. The sensation sends sparks through your veins, so you throw your head back, looking at him from the corner of your eye.

“Y-Yes!”

“Yes, what?”

Mitsunari thrusts into you, hitting the part that makes you see stars. “Tell him, princess,” he urges softly.

“Take me like you would a slut, Mitsuhide!” The truth rolls off of your tongue and Mitsuhide, pleased with your answer, inserts himself into you. With both of them inside of you, euphoria consumes you, and you grind your hips back and forth, delivering the three of you unimaginable pleasure. Mitsuhide grunts as he pounds into you, desperation consuming him.

Their cocks rub against you simultaneously, you reach your peak quickly.

“Mitsu-” you moan loudly. The two of them wait in anticipation to know who’s name you cry out, but the letters blur together as you are enveloped in bliss.

You fall against Mitsunari as he bucks upwards. His warmth fills you and he kisses you deeply. Mitsuhide takes another few moments before his cock tenses inside of you and he comes. He pulls out so that some of his seed paints your skin.

Pulling you backwards, Mitsuhide breaks your kiss and shoves his tongue down your throat, claiming you.

Overwhelmed by exhaustion, Mitsuhide falls onto the futon and pulls you down with him. No one says a word, but nothing needs to be said. You sling your leg over Mitsunari and tuck your face into Mitushide’s neck, nuzzling them both before falling asleep.

Indeed, it was a good way to celebrate a victory.

#sin #ishida mitsunari #mitushide #ikesen mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #ikesen mitsunari #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #cybird #otome

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chances-r-high · 4 years

Text

Rescue Aftermath

[ @vindication-thy-name-is-dwight ]

Chance sat at Addie’s bedside, gently petting her hair and listening to her breathe and purr. There’d been enough supplies here for him to completely patch Addie up, even finding some local anesthetic and pain killers. She was fast asleep now, allowing the nanites and meds to do their work, letting her heal.

He stopped in his motions, finally having his thoughts together. Or at least he felt like it. He leaned over and gave Addie a gentle kiss on her forehead. She made a tiny chirp, but besides that she didn’t stir. Chance got to his feet and straightened out the shirt he was wearing. It was one Dwight had thrown at him. He wanted to refuse but he didn’t like being shirtless when he wasn’t at home in private. Some things were for Addie and Iris’ eyes only.

His chest felt like it was going to explode, his emotions at an all time high as he walked out to the cockpit of the ship. He was trembling and he hated it. A part of him told himself it didn’t matter because he didn’t have to give a fuck what Dwight thought anymore, but another part of him couldn’t help be feel weak and scold himself.

He stood there behind Dwight for a long time, setting his jaw, before speaking. “Turn the ship on autopilot.”

Dwight knew he was there, could feel Chance’s eyes basically boring a hole through his skull. He glanced over his shoulder at the demand before complying, adjusting the ship’s settings, he turned around in the seat, keeping his expression quite neutral. “Something on your mind, High Chancellor?” The title was said rather neutrally. It wasn’t like Chance having the position was surprising.

Chance glared, his hands balled into fists at his side. He wished he had powers like Addie. “Why are you here?”

Dwight sighed, already exhausted of that question. “Well, currently, I’m taking you and your Master of Arms back home at great personal risk to myself-”

“That is not what I mean and you know it!” Chance shouted. “Don’t bullshit me right now, Dwight! Why the fuck are you here?!”

Dwight leaned back in his chair, sighing loudly. He really wished people would just accept things and not need all these answers. He was already exhausted with explaining himself. “...Leera was worried about you,” he said, folding his arms. “Satisfied?”

“Are kidding me?! Of course I’m not fucking satisfied! I am Angelica Schuyler with how unsatisfied I am!”

Dwight blinked. “I have no idea what that means.”

“Ask Leera she would know!” Chance shouted, He ran a hand through his hair and found himself pacing. His couldn’t help it, needing to get the anxious energy out of himself somehow. He had to remind himself to breathe. “You have never cared about what she wanted. Hell, you’ve never cared about what anyone else wanted but you. You don’t do anything unless you fucking want to! So I have to wonder why the fuck you want to be here!”

Dwight let him yell, not raising his voice when he spoke. At least not yet. “To be fair I don’t even know what I want anymore, if that helps to explain any of this.”

“It doesn’t!” Chance yelled. He paced again, feeling more frantic and angry. He quickly pulled out one of the swords Dwight had given him, pointing the blade at Dwight’s face. His hand was shaking, making his grip unsteady. The space here was small but he could make it work for a fight.

Dwight, however, didn’t flinch. He didn’t move at all. His eyes darted down to the sword and up to Chance, making no move to defend himself. “Go on.”

Chance’s grip on the sword tightened, and he snarled wordlessly. All he had to do was shove the blade forward into Dwight’s throat. This could all be over here and now.

And yet, all he could think about was that Dwight had let both Dibkins and Honey go. Hell, he’d helped Agent Dib and Dek escape. He was here, helping Addie rescue him.

He also couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to Leera if Dwight died, if he killed him. He’d never thought about it before, but now that he’d reconnected with her, he was certainly thinking about it now.

He made a loud sound of despair as he lowered his weapon, stomping his foot and screaming, pulling at his hair as he paced again. He rounded on Dwight once, making sure to get right into his face. “I’m not yours! Not anymore! You hear me? I have two fathers and neither of them are you!” He had to force his voice not to crack, emotions bubbling to the surface. “You don’t get to just...come back and rescue me because you fucked up and left me to last time! After all the other shit you did to me! You don’t get to do that!”

“Are you really complaining? I would say your life has been rather good since then-,”

“That is not the point, Dwight! That is nowhere near the fucking point!” He had to end the conversation. Stop talking. Otherwise he was going to start crying and Dwight would never see that ever. “You say you don’t know what this is? What you want? Guess what? I don’t give a shit! What matters is what I want and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about that! Not now and not ever!” He shook almost violently with the amount of emotions that bombarded him. “You stopped having any right to me and my life the moment you left me at that Team Nebula base. And you do not get to come back. You understand?!”

Dwight let the boy rant. He could tell Chance was actually holding a lot back. His stomach tightened and lurched, but for now he would ignore it. He wouldn’t apologize. Apologies were for the other person and not yourself, and it was obvious that would only make Chance more upset.

Not that he cared, of course.

“I understand,” Dwight replied, his tone still calm. Resigned.

Chance continued to stare at him, outrage and fury clear in his expression. He made another frustrated noise before stomping back into the room where Addie was sleeping, barely restraining from slamming the door. He took a moment to catch his breath, sliding down the door and burying his face in his knees. He let out a small whimper before starting to quietly cry, curling up and crying.

Asshole. Fucking asshole.

Dwight watched him go, waiting until the door was closed before he returned to flying the ship. He clenched the wheel a little harder, ignoring the deep pain in his chest.

I’m sorry…

No use saying something that he knew would never be enough.

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sevi007 · 5 years

Text

In the morning (there is meaning)

Rating: General Audience

Pairing: Eva x Sparda

Warnings: None, bare captivities from all the sweet fluff

Summary: Eva has known all kinds of mornings, good and bad. These, however, might have been her favorites: The ones where the ones she loved most where right there with her, greeting her before the dawn could.

I will post the link for AO3 in a reblog, since tumblr apparently doesn’t show posts with links in them anymore in the search results? I heard.

Little something I pieced together on my phone, at night, whenever I couldn’t sleep the last week. Pointless fluff in the form of morning cuddles, purring husbands and baby twins.

(I apologize in advance for typos, I’m not really great at typing on my phone. XD)

_____________________________________________________________

Eva couldn’t have said what had woken her when she sleepily blinked her eyes open. One moment she had been deep in dreamless slumber, and the next she was awake, slightly disoriented by the abruptness of it.

Yet it only took her a blurry second or two to note the change in the body pressed up against her.

Familiar warmth, a secure arm resting over her hips, was usual.

The rigidness of muscles and breath held tight in the chest next to her ear, was not.

All the signs of an animal readying itself for the jump.

Adrenaline rushed through her, pushing away the last threads of sleep still clinging to her mind. Forcing herself to keep her breath even as not make noise and disturb Sparda’s sharp hearing, she waited, ready to get her feet in a moment’s notice if he gave any sign that there was something amiss. While her body kept still, her mind raced – remembering if she had put her weapon well within her reach, figuring out how fast she could be down the hallway and there to protect the twins.

Then, Sparda realised the breath he had held in a great rush, body gradually relaxing next to her again. Only then did he gaze down to where she was watching him intently. He blinked once, eyebrow arching, - the only sign of surprise she would get - before his features softened and he whispered, “Just the boys.”

That was enough to send a flood of relief through Eva and she sighed, all but collapsing back to the mattress and his side again “Oh, thank god.”

Quiet laughter shook her, and a hand rose to stroke reassuringly through her hair. Soft and comforting enough it would have lulled her to sleep any other time, hadn’t it been for the way her heart was still pounding after that shock.

Cracking one eye open, she craned her neck to see the window and almost sighed again when she noted there was little to no light streaming in yet. Before sunrise, then. Well. There had been times when the twins hadn’t slept through more than very few hours, so she supposed it was slowly getting better.

The caresses had stopped and she turned to look up and meet Sparda’s gaze. There was a wry smile curling around his lips, and she could tell he was thinking something similar to her own train of thought.

Before she could comment on it, however, she heard it too, this time – a soft creak outside in the hallway, wood shifting under light steps, the hint of hushed voices.

The door opened with a squeak of its hinges, and a mop of white hair popped up in the gap. Followed by a second one, moving a bit too quickly, the motion knocking the two together. A pained hiss, some shushing, more whispering. A last, decisive hiss. Grumbling that sounded definitely a tad sulky.

Eva and Sparda exchanged a fond look, both barely keeping quiet instead of bursting into laughter.

“Father?”

The polite voice had both adults shush each other, laughter twinkling in their eyes, before Sparda spoke up, “Yes?”

“Is Mum awake?” This question was slightly louder than the first one, causing more hissing from the twin who had spoken first. “Ah. Sorry.”

“Why don’t you ask me that yourself, boys?” Eva asked, the laugh seeping into her voice. Propping herself up onto her elbow so she could peer over Sparda’s shoulder, she waved at the children. “Good morning!”

“Mum!”

Both small faces fairly glowed with happiness as they spotted her – before dropping into matching frowns, much to Eva’s surprise.

“We didn’t wake you…,” Vergil asked, exchanging a quick, worried look with Dante, “Did we?”

“Can’t be,” Dante insisted, though he didn’t look quite convinced, “We were quiet!”

“Perhaps…”

“Boys, boys,” knowing this could degenerate into a full-blown discussion if she let it, Eva soothed them instantly, albeit confused. “You didn’t wake me. Why would that be a bad thing, anyway?”

The boys sobered up immediately, looking extremely serious all of sudden – and Eva almost broke down laughing when she noted just how similar to their father they could look when they wrinkled their noses like…

Yes. That, she thought fondly as Dante sniffled, a picture of offense. “Dad said we’re not allowed to wake you up when you’re sleeping.”

“It’s the rule,” Vergil emphasized, nodding very seriously.

Hearing that had Eva raising her eyebrows in surprise, blinking. It wasn’t often that Sparda set up rules for the children, something they had agreed upon after his own request. He was convinced, and she understood, that what little he remembered from his own upbringing would not be what they wanted for their children.

It seemed odd now, how this trivial little thing was something he had insisted upon.

Unable to catch her husband’s gaze since he had rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillows, Eva mentally shrugged it off and smiled at the boys instead. “Well, I was awake already. Was there something you two needed, boys?”

A quick glance was a shared between the boys, silently communicating. Dante was the one to turn and pipe up, bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet. “Can we stay here?”

“We couldn’t sleep anymore,” Vergil chimed in. “And will be really quiet.”

“Please?”

Eva had already started to smile fondly after the first question. Drawing a soft caress down Sparda’s neck with one finger, she waited until he purred, tilting his head back to look at her. The curl of his knowing smirk was all she needed to decide. They were thinking along the same line, as they did so often.

Pushing herself up and a bit away from her husband, opening up a space between the two of them just big enough for two little boys, she gestured to her sons. “Come here, you two.”

Given the permission, there was no hesitation from Dante’s side anymore. A brilliant smile stretched over the boy’s face as he rushed across the room, bare feet going taptaptap, before scrambling up onto the mattress and crawling across it, all flailing limbs and pure enthusiasm. He even settled on the direct route to his mother, meaning that he climbed all over the prone form of his father without any consideration.

The distinct, muffled sound of tiny knees and elbows hitting the man was met with a half-hearted grumble from Sparda.

Even though she knew this was nowhere near something that could actually hurt him, Eva winced sympathetically for her husband. “Sweetie, be a bit more careful with your father.”

Pausing in his climbing, perched atop his father’s broad back, Dante considered that, looking curiously from his mother to his father. As if to prove a point, he jumped one more time up and down – Eva winced again, even though she had to bite back a snort, this little rascal – and wondered, “Why? I don’t think he even noticed me!”

“I did,” came the reply, muffled by the pillow Sparda didn’t lift his face from, “And you would do good to remember that I know quite well how ticklish you are, little one.”

It was almost comical, how quickly Dante’s grin fell off his face, replaced by a look of wide-eyed horror and sheer offense. With a squeaking yelp, the boy basically leapt from his father’s back straight onto the mattress next to his mother, scrambling to curl into the safety of her arms. “Mum, don’t let him tickle me!”

“Don’t worry, you’re safe,” Eva promised, wrapping one arm around the dramatically whining boy while she faked a glower at her husband. “We ticklish people have to stick together.”

There was laughter in those bright eyes when Sparda turned his had enough so he could blink at the two of them lazily, cocking an eyebrow. He seemed to consider pursuing the subject – with more joking threats most likely – but when he meet the two offended gazes directed his way, he snorted quietly, features softening.

Dante watched warily over his mother’s arm as his father reached out, only to burst out giggling when his nose was tapped gently by one long finger. “Ey!”

“Keep your elbows to yourself, little one,” Sparda’s voice was nearly a purr, deep and lazy. “And I will desist from all tickling.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

A sudden weight dipping the mattress had all three of them looking down. Vergil, more considerate on some subjects than his brother, had crawled from the foot of the mattress up between the two adults. Kneeling between them, he pondered something, before grinning brightly. “I’m not ticklish.”

Instantly, Dante pouted again, drawing Eva’s arm tighter around himself as if for comfort. “I don’t want to be, either.”

“You get that from your mother.”

“Oh, it’s Mother’s fault?”

“… Thanks, Mum.”

“Hey!” Eva protested while all her three boys started laughing at her offense, ranging from deep and quiet to high and loud. Rolling her eyes dramatically towards the ceiling, she grumbled, “Oh sure, now I’m the one to blame.”

“Well…”

“Oh, shush,” she ordered the man, snorting loudly when she heard him scoot away from her in jest, as if fearing her wrath.

Tiny hands tugged at her sleeve and wrapped gently around strands of her hair, drawing her attention from the ceiling back to her sons.

“Don’t worry, Mum,” Vergil started, petting her hair gently.

“We still love you!” Dante declared, tugging insistently at the cloth in his grip.

“Lots and lots!” They both chorused, matching grins stretching from ear to ear.

Warmth and love spread through her, and there was no way Eva could have held onto her playful pouting while met with such earnest affection. She rolled around to have both arms to use and pulled the giggling and laughing boys into an embrace, dropping dozens of kisses all over their faces in rapid succession. “And I love you, lots and lots!”

“Muuuum!”

“I can’t breathe!”

Despite their giggled complaints, both twins enthusiastically met her affections, grapping onto her as best as they could. Once she released them, they both pressed an exaggerated kiss to her cheeks with a loud “Mwah!”.

All three collapsed onto the mattress in a heap, all sprawled limbs and breathless laughter. They glanced up when a quiet rustle sounded. Sparda drew the previously discarded blanket over them, then simply dropping his arm on top, effectively trapping the twins beneath it. There was more laughter, closer to breathless huffs by now, as Vergil latched onto his father’s arm to keep it where it was, Dante chortling happily while he more distracted his brother than really helped by latching onto Vergil like a teddy bear.

“Enough, now” there was no real sternness in Sparda’s voice, only a fond smiling tinging the words. He indulged the two once more by pulling back just so, nearly lifting both straight of the mattress and into the air, only to let the arm drop again and holding them still where they squirmed, snorting. “You were supposed to be quiet when staying here.”

“Awwww. Okay.”

“Sorry, father.”

Eva watched the whole exchange with a heart ready to burst with affection, smiling widely. Once they had seemingly settled, she leaned over the two boys - Vergil with wide-eyes and a huge smile, Dante basically squirming in excitement - pressing a gentle kiss to each their foreheads.

Low words to rest and sleep well were whispered as they all lay back down and peace set in once again.

Eva waited, half-drifting off, half-pondering, lulled by the sound of the twins slowly dropping off again, quiet giggles and whispers quieting down to soft breaths.

Finally, she couldn’t hold back anymore, whispering the question still on her mind in the space between them.

“Why that rule?”

It was difficult to whisper low enough to get past the sharp little ears between them, yet she was saved by the fact that the twins had apparently dozed off already, content and in deep slumber in the safe cradle their parents provided.

A low hum, sounding thoughtful. Then one bright blue eye cracked open, meeting her curious gaze. “We already confirmed that they require less sleep than you do.”

Eva was already about to ask again for the deeper meaning of that ominous answer before it hit her – recalling how tired and dead on her feet when the twins had been little and astounding energy reservoirs, far beyond a human’s already, had kept them going when their mother was already exhausted. Remembering Sparda’s alarm when he had noticed, despite her tries to reassure him, just how close to falling over she had really been.

He hadn’t forgotten a single bit of that.

Her heart fairly melted and the smile spreading across her face very nearly hurt. Once again, she was utterly enamoured with how thoughtful and kind her partner could be, despite all his struggles to understand human wants and needs.

Reaching under the pillows, she searched for the hand he had slipped under there, interweaving their fingers and squeezing. Even in the dim light, she could see his eyes soften and his lips curl up, thumb rubbing slow circles over the back of her hand.

“I love you.”

Often said words, yet she meant them every time anew. Perhaps even more so each time she said it.

“And I, you.”

Answering with the same ease as breathing, a fact, cemented by the look of tenderness and wonder in his eyes.

The arm which had rested protectively over the sleeping twins rose, a gentle hand tucking the blanket further around her as well before Sparda murmured lowly, “Now, try to get some more sleep. These two will wake soon enough and demand attention again.”

Eva laughed soundlessly, snuggling closer to her family and settling back in. “Yes, yes, try pretending you don’t absolutely love it when they want your attention.”

“Why, Eva, I never said anything about not liking it.”

It was very hard to lie there and not kiss him then, with his grin wide and mischievous and making his face look so much softer and younger, but she managed, barely, aware that she would jostle the boys and wake them up if she tried. So she kept still, squeezing the fingers linked with hers, and returned each caress over the back of her hand with one of her own in an attempt to communicate what she felt.

If the look she received for it was anything to go by, she was understood perfectly well.

Eva fell asleep again soon after, cradling and being cradled by the ones she loved most, a quiet purr and twin-sounds of easy breathing a lullaby only for her ears, a soft smile on her face.

Her dreams were full of warmth and light, just like her heart right then.

#eva x sparda #eva #sparda #dante #vergil #dmc #devil may cry #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing

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lethalbreadkills · 5 years

Text

ooc gay bugs yall

Pale King was tired. Tired of the Infection, tired of failing, tired of acting as if he hated his children that were in the Abyss, tired of pretending he didn't care for the Hollow Knight- No, didn't care or Hollow. No, that wasn't good either.

The Pale King sighed. He had been pitying himself and diminishing his already dismally low self-esteem. He thought for a moment before whispering a name to himself in the darkness of the closet he had holed himself up in, known to nobody else.

"Enkay..." He had whispered into the dark and narrow eyes drooping under his mask as his sleep deprivation finally caught up with him, mumbling something incoherent to himself. He allowed the dark folds of sleep to embrace him, eyes fluttering shut.

He groaned as the black began to melt into a deep scarlet, familiar red horns beginning to peek into his view. The figure beside him chuckled.

"Excited to see me, are you?" They purred, earning another groan as the Pale King flopped onto the ground, mumbling loudly.

"Go away, Nightmare King."

The red figure laughed "Ah, but I cannot, we're in my realm now, Wyrm."

Pale King lifted his head, squinting and letting out another half-hearted groan. This only caused the Nightmare King more amusement. He stepped around the curled up king's slender frame, studying the bug that lay on the deep red ground of the Nightmare Realm. The pale, near white of the Wyrm, contrasted the darker red of the ground, and the Nightmare King delighted in it. He hummed before picking the much smaller male up by one of the spires on his head, pulling a yelp of pain from the Pale being.

"Ow, ow, ow, Nightmare King-" Pale King seethed, voice a tad strained from the sudden pain of his horn being grabbed roughly.

Nightmare King only smirked, purred, and switched the miniature Wyrm to a different position, now holding him bridal style. The Wyrm's face burst into a sky blue upon being put into this position and he flailed, though it did nothing against the taller bugs ungodly strength.

"Nightmare King put me down RIGHT NO-"

He was shut up by a finger being placed where his mouth would be on his mask.

"Shh, Gwyn. No need to yell.~"

"I swear to T- wh..." Pale King hesitated

"What did you just call me?"

Nightmare King turned his head a touch.

"Whatever do you mean, Wyrm?"

"That- That name. Where did you get that?"

"What..? Oh, Gwyn?" Upon hearing the name again Pale King stared at the Nightmare King, eyes wide before narrowing again.

"You told me, Gwyn." The Higher Being cloaked in red smirked.

"Do you not remember? You are the one who spiked the wine with Dreamroot, Wyrm."

Pale Kings eyes widened again. He hissed at the Nightmare King.

"Shut it, Grimm."

"Ah! So you do recall! What a pleasure to hear."

The Pale King, Gwyn, growled lowly at Grimm. Grimm only got closer to Gwyn's mask, hooking a finger underneath the bottom of it.

"You are not very threatening, Gwyn. I do hope you are not trying to scare me into submission. You only need to ask~." Grimm purred, and Gwyn choked. His tail lashed, knocking Grimm in the side by accident. Grimm wheezed, nearly dropping Gwyn, who latched onto him directly after, not wanting to hit the ground. He clung to Grimm, who raised an eyebrow at him after a bout of wheezing over the very sudden hit to his shell.

The Wyrm's mask was jostled, pushed up and showing his mouth and one of his eyes, still clinging to his head. Gwyn's carapace turned out to be a light grey, very near to the blinding white the rest of him was. His face was still tinted a lovely blue, and Grimm absolutely delighted in it. A light peck placed to the corner of the Wyrm's mouth had the blush spreading to the rest of his face, cheeks heating up. Grimm laughed and Gwyn scowled.

"Nightmare King." Gwyn's visible eye narrowed, and his voice was tense.

"Yes, Wyrm? Can't I kiss my mate?~" Grimm purred in reply, watching as the blue spread at being called his mate.

"Grimm, I am not in the mood for your charades right now."

"Ah yes, with sister dearest rampaging in bugs' minds? I simply came to help you, dear Gwyn. She cannot take over your mind in my Realm of Nightmares." Grimm explained.

"And you have been oh so tense lately, my dear,"

Gwyn grumbled under his breath, replacing his mask over his face now that his hands were free, only for Grimm to pull it right back off. He hung the mask around one of his own horns so that it would not be lost.

"Grimm, give me back my mask."

"But you so look much better without it, I think." Grimm chuckles, pressing another gentle kiss to the Wyrm's face. Said Wyrm sighs, giving in and nuzzling Grimm gently, leaning into him. Grimm smiled gently, rubbing his thumb against Gwyn's carapace, welcoming the smooth texture and helping in calming the overworked and tired Wyrm. Gwyn mumbled a reply, pressing his face into Grimm's chest and pushing past his cloak. He chitters softly as he allows his eyes to close, mandibles flexing harmlessly as he soaks up the strange warmth that Grimm emits. Grimm purrs gently, holding Gwyn close

#story time with toast #lol #nightmarewyrm is the shit #im just not good with the characters #why do i write oneshots again???#hell if i know

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inneedofsomehope · 6 years

Text

Monsta X OT7 ~ Kitty Cat {3}

Pairing: Hybrid!reader X OT7

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: None

Words: 1,4 K

[Part 2] - [Part 4]

The drive towards the nearest hybrid shelter wasn’t long, but it felt like the longest drive in your whole life. You were sitting in the back, while Hyungwon and Changkyun sat in front, Hyungwon driving. You thought about all of the seven friendly faces you had seen in the last twenty-four hours, the only friendly faces you had ever seen in your life. Would you be adopted into a nice family, or would you go back to one of those terrible places where you originally came from. A sad feeling came over you, but you couldn’t cry just yet. You had to wait till you were alone, at least out of the sight of the two men so they wouldn’t feel bad for leaving you behind. After the car came to a halt and Changkyun and Hyungwon had already left the car, you realized you had arrived at the hybrid shelter.

You got out of the car, looking at the floor the entire time, walking slowly behind the two men. You didn’t want them to notice your red eyes. Your sensitive ears heard another car pull up and a couple of persons coming out, but you did not look up or think much about it. The bell rang somewhere in the back of the shelter as the three of you entered the place. It smelled old and you could tell immediately that it wasn’t a place that was very well taken care of. As Changkyun walked over to the desk, waiting for an employee to come, you wandered around a bit, not spotting a single other hybrid in the room. When the employee stepped into the room, you smelled her before you noticed her in any other way. She smelled like old leather and wet dog, a smell that made you scrunch up your sensitive nose. You heard Changkyun talk a bit to the woman, but you didn’t pay attention to it. Instead you watched as Hyungwon looked at the different toys and collars for different kinds of hybrids.

You remembered your old collar, it was a green one with a little bell hanging from the front. The bell annoyed the hell out of you sometimes and it was even worse when it kept you awake as you tried to sleep. You brought your heavy hand towards your neck, touching the bare spot where your collar used to sit. You shook your head, shaking all the old memories off of you. It was time to forget and pray that you would find a new, nice family. One that would care for you till the day you die.

As the bell of the shelter rang again, your head snapped up, looking at the five people entering the shelter. A familiar scent filled your nose and when you noticed that Shownu, Kihyun, Wonho, Jooheon and Minhyuk had entered, you noticed something was off.

‘Why are you here?’ you asked, voice laced with suspicion.

‘Well... We wanted to make sure you would enter a good home, but to let you enter that good home, we have to register it to avoid getting in trouble...’ Shownu spoke, but the words were barely registered in your brain.

‘You... What?’

‘We are adopting you!’ Minhyuk cheered and he threw his arms around your frame.

Your first instinct was to push him away, not liking the way he intruded your personal space, but as the words made sense, a feeling of warmth came over you and you slowly wrapped your arms around him as well.

‘I think, If Changkyun has taken care of everything, we are ready to go. I’ll take her out shopping for clothes, because well... It seems to be necessary, and you guys need to go grocery shopping, make sure to get some things that she’ll like as well,’ Hyungwon said, the others nodding in agreement.

‘I’ll accompany the two of you with shopping,’ Changkyun said as he took your hand in his carefully.

‘We’ll take all of the good stuff! And when you get home I will make sure there is a very delicious dish ready for you.’ Kihyun smiled at you and petted your head, careful not to touch your ears.

A soft smile formed on your face at the thought of living with those sweet dorks.

Changkyun pulled you towards the car and sat down with you in the backseat, not letting go of your hand. Hyungwon followed the two of you and sat down in the drivers seat. He looked though the rear view mirror at you and smiled.

‘I hope you are going to be very happy with us,’ he said and started the engine.

‘After tonight, I realized that there was no way I could just send you away Y/N. My heart could not take the idea of you going back to a terrible family and the only way to make sure that you will be treated well in the future is keeping you with me, with us,’ Changkyun said, rubbing over your knuckles with his thumb.

The burning feeling of the tears behind your eyes intensified at his words. You felt so grateful and happy. As the first tear escaped, you buried your face in Changkyun’s shoulder. ‘I am sorry for crying so much...’ you sniffled into his sweater. His soft laugh rumbled though his chest and his hand came down on your head to softly pet you.

‘That’s ok. You are allowed to cry as much as you want.’

You laughed softly through your tears. ‘I am sure that I am going to be very happy with you all.’

As you plopped down on the couch, you dropped the bags on the floor. You curled up on the soft pillows and closed your eyes. Your feet hurt from walking the whole afternoon and you were utterly tired.

After a while of laying down, you felt the couch near your head dip and a pair of hands came to lift your head, only to place it back in their lap. At first your body tensed, not used to being this close to your owner in a good way, but after he started to pet your head and your back, you relaxed and a soft purr rolled through your throat. You heard his laugh rumble through his chest, but you hadn’t heard it before and you didn’t know who was currently petting you. So you slowly opened opened your eyes. Back at you, stared the woodsy colored eyes of shownu, a soft twinkle in them as he ran his hands through your hair.

You were a bit taken a back by who had approached you to pet you, because you hadn’t expected shownu to come to you. You had taken him for a more shyer guy, but you had totally misjudged Hyungwon and Changkyun in the beginning as well. I probably had something to do with your mistrust in humans over all.

Your tail swished and softly stroked around the two of you, sometimes touching his hands or shoulders. Your purring got louder as you curled up more against his sturdy frame.

Shownu smiled soft to himself as he scratched behind your ears a bit harder. He had known that once they brought you with them that night, they wouldn’t be able to get rid of you anymore, so he discussed it with the others this morning, and even though Wonho and Jooheon hadn’t really been into having a female in their house, the others agreed immediately. As the time went on, he heard your breathing slow down and your body relax even more, you had fallen asleep. A tender feeling creeped its way into his heart and he didn’t regret his decision for one bit.

When Minhyuk and Hyungwon came into the living room, chatting loudly as usual, you stirred in your sleep.

‘Shhhh, Y/N is asleep. Be quiet!’ Shownu said to the other two and continued to pet you.

‘Look at that! Our grandpa has gone all soft for Y/N~ie,’ Hyungwon said as he sat down on the other sofa.

A red blush appeared on Shownu his face and the other two laughed.

‘Well, you can hardly blame him. I mean, she’s already wrapped Changkyun around her little finger as well,’ Minhyuk said, pulling his phone out of his pocket to snap a picture of the eldest, rarely seen so cozy and cuddly with someone.

When another person entered the living room, you definitely woke up because all the cursing when he stumbled over the shopping bags that you had left on the ground.

‘God, damn it! Who left these bags lying around so carelessly?!’

#monsta x #monsta x jooheon #monsta x hyungwon #monsta x changkyun #monsta x shownu #monsta x kihyun #monsta x minhyuk #monsta x wonho #monsta x fluff #monsta x smutt #monsta x angst #monsta x series #monsta x hybrid!au #hybrid!au

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blankdblank · 6 years

Text

Biscuits - Richard Prompt Request

c-s-stars said:

For the prompt thing. Prompt list 1. Number 1 with Richard Armitage and the reader who works on the set with Richard? (Is that how this works?)

1 “Fancy seeing you here.” “I work here.”

...

Painfully Richard slumped out of the elevator towards his rental apartment after his late flight from an appearance. If I hear one more person call out my name… After a shake of his head he drew out his keys he curled his hand around and the ring to keep it silent hearing a shifting behind the door he was nearing. In a rapid swing that door did open and a slightly disheveled woman in an eager fumble trying to correct the stack of books in her arms only to glance up at her new formerly unseen neighbor to give a soft “hey.”

Her eyes dipped to the books then shot back up to him bring a sense of dread in him, until she asked, “Hey, you just got in?” Her eyes scanned over his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, “I mean, obviously. But, I have to ask while I have you here, is it cold outside?”

Blinking at her curiously he was lost for words for a moment not expecting to hear anything close to that, “Um, it’s a bit nippy.”

She nodded and pursed her lips for a moment lifting her knee to shift the books back into line, “Bring a sweater nippy, or full jacket and hat nippy?”

Unable to help himself he smirked and felt his body shifting to face her fully, “Jacket would probably be safest.”

She nodded and turned inside hastily dropping the books onto a chair beside the door and dug a coat out of her jacket only to pop back into the doorway with another, “Oh!” His brows rose as he watched her button the jacket and scoop up the books again and lock up behind her when she stepped out into the hallway. “The guy who used to have your apartment, we sort of had an arrangement..” He nodded curious to know why she had brought it up, “I can’t seem to finish a full can of biscuits, breakfast biscuits not cookies, the buttery flaky layered kind, and when I’d make them we’d sort of share.” He blinked at her again, “Anyway, long story short, are you gonna be here about 7ish tomorrow morning?” His brows furrowed curiously, “I got a new can and, it’d be a hand off at the door situation so no worries about me forcing you into early interaction before coffee or what have you, interested? It won’t be an all the time thing, kinda like a blue moon thing.”

With a steady inhale he honestly couldn’t find a reason to object and nodded, “We can give it a try.”

With a nod she wished him good night and raced off to the elevator to find her way to work leaving him to smirk and slip back inside curious about who he had just formed an arrangement with on his way to shower and drop into bed.

…

The following morning his eyes rose to his alarm clock seeing the few minutes past seven reading across the small lit up screen pulling him from bed and towards the knock on his front door. Through the cracked door he eyed the woman from next door coated in a massive blanket with a basket full of his half of the biscuits he smirked through accepting. But before he could say a word she, as agreed, turned to walk back to her open door and disappeared allowing him to head back to bed. In his kitchen he left the basket and went to head to his warm bed only to glance back and steal one of the warm biscuits and carried it to his bed. Soon enough one left him rising to claim another then another soon urging him to put together a breakfast to go with them, by his late shift of filming he’d claimed the last of the biscuits to enjoy on his way to work still wearing a smile at the innocent exchange and possible friendship.

No matter what he did he couldn’t seem to stop having her wander through his thoughts all day and into his filming as well, having to focus extra hard on what he was meant to do while his bubbling affection for the woman nearly broke him from his character more than once at his confusing glimpses at the staff around him he kept picturing her weave through. Sure it was just a simple house set but here and there in adjusting for cameras and switching between new scenes and former ones a familiar flash of a silhouette popped back into his mind at the familiar shade of hair bopping around in the crowded set.

As his shift ended he focused on his stop into a nearby book store where he spotted the same jacket coating the woman form next door. Steadily behind her he moved, holding his gaze downward in his usual invisible way hiding him from anyone overly eager to steal him from her and paused at her side clearing his throat. In a glance up his breath hitched at her smiling giggle before saying, “Good morning to you to 22b. late shift again?”

He nodded, “Yes. You couldn’t sleep?”

Her head shook, “Got to grab some books for work to help with the new design scheme.”

His brows rose stirring a clenching in his chest at her growing smile, “You’re a designer then?”

She nodded, “Among other things. Sort of the catch all position, little bits here and there.”

“I haven’t seen much of you in the past few weeks.”

“Work’s picked up.”

Slowly as he fumbled his way into a discussion on the books he had gone to collect her body had turned and she’d led him through the store laying his selection in his arms and showing him back to her apartment where his words finally trickled off when he’d looked over the apartment as she walked into the other room to answer her ringing phone causing him to realize how much of time he’d taken up. Especially after he lowered his fork to the plate from the meal she’d prepared for them both during his spilling on the set of books and authors of each he had chosen leaving him to rub his face with his hands.

A sigh sounded through the open bedroom door as she hung up and walked back out again causing him to drop his hands eagerly into his lap trying to find the words to express how much of an ass he felt he had seemed to this incredibly kind woman. As she came into his view he watched her claim the wine glass she had set aside for another sip while she grabbed the bottle to refill it again. Offering him a refill she asked, “So, what do you do, um, Mr.... I’m not exactly certain what to call you.”

Again his brows rose and the tiny narcissistic devil on his shoulder was shouting as loudly as it could stunned as to how she couldn’t know him with the press near daily about him on the filming and fans milling about outside every so often. “Richard, and, um. I’m not really certain how to say this without seeming like an impossibly self absorbed ass-..”

Her giggle halted his words as she claimed her seat across from him again, “I meant when you’re not filming. I am well aware of who you are.” Through an attempt at a relieved exhale he nodded only to look her over with a slightly curious gaze while claiming a sip of his wine. “You’ve had a few breaks between roles before, any interesting hobbies or is it all traveling and busy reading?”

“Um, all of the above. Just tends to switch to what I feel inspiration to do really.” His eyes looked her over again as he shifted in his seat and set his glass down on the table, “I’m sorry, I um, you, knew who I was?”

With a nod and a curious smirk she set down her glass after a sip curling her legs in front of her, “Yes. Would you prefer I fawned over you endlessly?”

“No, God No. Just-.”

“You do realize you are a person?” His brow rose as she shifted closer and tapped his hand resting on the table between them with a playful smile and squint of her increasingly enchanting eyes, “Or is this one of those don’t tell the actor he’s not really a robot in suit situation?” The chuckle from him eased his nerves as she continued with a playfully stern nod and expression that melted into another smirk, “Because in that case you are an incredible robot Mr Armitage. One of the best.” Earning another chuckle from him as he reached for his glass of wine again locking his eyes with hers as she reclaimed her fork to finish the last of her dinner.

Playfully they quipped back and forth until another glimpse at the clock brought them back to her door as he clutched his bag of books and turned to ask as he wet his lips, “Again, I am an ass, I still don’t know your name, forgive me?” Miss?”

His slightly pleading gaze grew through her giggle, “Y/n. And you are not an ass.” After a nip at his lip they traded good nights and both headed off to bed.

…

Each day the pattern continued, his near constant imagined sightings of her and shared dinners or lunches growing into the occasional arranged breakfasts and outings together. But one lingering gaze on the bouncing ponytail passing through the crowds brought the actor on a trailing path after it in a disbelieving smirk as once again she had another armful of books and was teetering her way to shift them to another set of surfaces to match the day prior’s scenes.

With a smirk he stopped at her side and purred lowly, “Fancy seeing you here.”

In a smirking glance up at him she quipped back, “I work here.”

He chuckled lowly and relied, “Apparently. How did I manage to miss that?”

She shrugged, “Like I said, I have the catch all position. And your ass seems to love making my job just a bit harder this past week.”

Playfully his brows rose as he chuckled out “My ass?”

She nodded, “First the scene in the study, then the living room yesterday and the kitchen here in a bit, you have no idea what we have to move just to get the shot of your ass everyone loves.” Making him chuckle again.

“Well I do apologize on behalf of my ass.” Wetting his lips he glanced around making sure they were alone to lean in and purr beside her ear when she’d turned back to her arranging, “Perhaps I could, make it up to you, somehow?”

Turning to peer up at him playfully she fired back, “Why does that make me think you’re just going to end up shifting things in my apartment as well?”

Spreading across his face his smile doubled and he replied, “At least there it won’t have to be put back right away. Or, we could rearrange mine if you prefer?”

Before she could say anything the director called his name and she turned him to the door stirring another chuckle from him allowing her to finish up and finalize the set before he and his love interest stumbled through ruining it again. Just as cut had been called he hopped back into his underwear and pants finding her side again and sat on the desk beside her timidly shifting one of the books back to what he believed the former spot to be as he eyed her asking, “Any word on my offer to make it up to you?”

After a glance at the director looking for him she nodded her head at the director, a sign he ignored remaining at her side until she rolled her eyes and replied, “I have another can of biscuits.”

A smirk spread on his face again as he stood at his name being called and replied, “Good, we can discuss it over dinner,” his voice dropped to a low purr again as he leaned in to add, “And possibly breakfast after.” Then turned and strolled away as she shook her head and got back to work catching reflections and glimpses of him peering over at her here and there as she continued her work.

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @abiwim, @deepestfirefun, @c-s-stars

#Richard Armitage x Reader OC

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