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momolady · 3 years

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Dean the Werewolf: Part Two

Out on the boardwalk, down by the mysterious creepy monster that keeps showing up for some reason.

Female Reader x Male Monster (both cis)

The new yoga class that Rosie is taking you to starts at the time you usually begin your workout. Actually, it starts an hour later, so you get to make yourself one of your rare fancy breakfasts. It’s not that fancy - you just add an avocado to your usual fare - but you get to savor it, which makes it extra fancy.

You meet up with Rosie half way through your run, and together you go to the building where the class is held, an old chain store that went out of business and has been retrofitted as office spaces. The new yoga studio is at the back, so you walk through the central lot, which has a small cafe, outdoor seating and lots of plants. “We’ll get coffee before we go!” Rosie is so excited. She’s been wanting to try yoga, but the one class offered at the gym is a bit advanced. This class is tailored for beginners and casual types.

The class is already quite full, but you and Rosie manage to find a spot near the corner. It’s closer to the front than you would like, but everyone seems to be staying towards the back. “I wonder who the teacher is,” Rosie says quietly. “I know it’s a guy. I wonder if he’s cute.”

You smirk at her. “How many times do I have to remind you about Mikey?”

“It’s just nice to have something to look at. Chill.” Rosie’s eyes light up as she looks towards the door at the back of the classroom. “No way. The Shadow is here!”

You turn to see Dean coming through the door in the rear. He moves to the front of the class and pulls out a stereo before putting on the music. “Is he the teacher?”

“Oh, wow, he’s not what I expected.” Rosie sits at attention like the rest of the class.

“Good morning,” Dean says charmingly. “How is everyone doing today? Well, I hope you’re all excited to join us. This is our very first class, and we’re excited to finally be up and going after months of getting the space ready.”

“I wonder if this was the good work he was talking about,” you murmur.

Rosie leans towards you. “What?” You try to brush her off as Dean keeps talking.

“Just so you know, there are two things I wanna start with before we get serious. One, I got a cavity filled yesterday, and my jaw still kind of hurts. Two, this is a port wine stain.” He touches the birthmark on his face. “I’m not burned, it doesn’t hurt, and I’ve had this since I was born. No, I don’t want it fixed. And no, my mother did not drink wine while she was pregnant with me. It’s just a term.”

Rosie’s cheeks turn bright red as you giggle. Dean spots you, and smiles in your direction before returning to the class. “Okay, now we can get down to business. I want you all to sit, get nice and comfortable, and we are going to breathe.” He sits and instructs you on how to breathe, which is nice. You didn’t expect simple breathing to be so pleasant.

You’re quite stiff, so some of the poses you go through are difficult to master. Dean is very busy going around the class and helping others before he reaches you. “Mind if I position your hips?”

“Uh…” You’re a bit embarrassed. “Okay!”

He places his hands firmly and gently on your hips, helping you to move into a better pose. “There we go. Remember to breathe. After a while this will get easier to do.”

“I sure hope so. I’ve never been able to touch my toes,” you say jokingly.

Dean chuckles, helping you move into the next pose. “Give me a couple of weeks, and I’ll have you touching your toes.”

“Do I need to call the cops?” Rosie teases.

“Hopefully not.” Dean stands back up, going to help another student.

After the class ends, lots of people go to the front to sign up for packages and memberships. You’re still sitting, relishing the act of breathing deeply. “Oh shoot,” Rosie huffs.

“What’s the matter?” you ask.

Rosie is looking at her phone. “It’s Mikey. He wants to eat my pussy.”

“Rosie, c’mon!” you whine.

“I guess I’ll go home. Sorry I can’t get a fancy coffee with you.” She stands up. “I’ll sign up for a membership online. Are you going to join?”

You glance towards Dean at the front. “I’m thinking about it.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later then.” Rosie leaves. You get up to roll your mat, then approach the front, where the crowd has thinned out a bit.

“How did you like it?” Dean asks, looking excited.

“It was fun. I didn’t expect to enjoy it as much as I did. I also didn’t expect you to be the teacher.”

Dean chuckles. “I was surprised to see you too. And yeah, the reason I moved out here was to be an instructor. The lady I worked for before retired, so my friend and I opened up this place together.”

“That’s pretty impressive. Was there not a lot of demand for yoga in Hearthway Hollow?” you ask, hoping this will provide an opening to ask about the werewolf rumor.

Dean sighs heavily. “There were plenty of studios down there, but making money was the hard part. I can actually make money out here, even if it’s a long way to travel.” Dean then points to the membership board. “Are you looking to sign up?”

You shrug. “Sure. Rosie and I will probably make this our weekend thing.”

“Good,” Dean says brightly. “I don’t have another class for a while, my business partner is teaching the next one. Wanna get something at the cafe?”

Your heart flips and your stomach flops. You stumble with your words, then settle on nodding. “Sure. I’ve got nothing else to do until later.”

“Okay, great! Go sign up, I’m going to change shirts really quick.” He leaves and you go to the sign up board, leaving your information. You wait for him, and when he comes out it’s the first time you’ve seen him with his hair out of its bun. The division between the dark hair on one side and the grey-and-white on the other is even more stark, reminding you of Cruella de Vil. Dean fusses with it, then just stops and lets it hang. “Ready?”

“Yeah. How’s your tooth?” you ask.

“My jaw is sore from the shot, but the tooth feels so much better. I was actually able to have ice cream last night.” Dean leads you out to the cafe, where people from the class have already gathered.

“You like ice cream?” you chuckle.

“So much. It’s my guilty pleasure,” Dean says with a wink.

You want to bring up werewolves, but how? “So, I looked up your town last night.”

There’s a noticeable bristle in Dean’s demeanor. “Really? Were you that curious about it?” He rubs his neck.

You try to reassure him with a smile. “A little. I could just be nosy, too. But I found something weird…”

Dean scoffs. “Here it comes.”

“So you’re aware.” You don’t want to laugh just yet.

“Is it about the werewolves?” Dean asks.

“Maybe?”

Dean shrugs and pops his neck. “All the neighboring towns back home think the werewolf rumors are hilarious. Ever since that Twilight shit came out, it’s only made it worse.”

“Oh…” You fidget, feeling guilty you brought up.

“Sorry. I think it’s…” He hesitates, and you can see how hard he’s thinking. “People think werewolves are evil, right? Which is bad for a small town like Hearthway Hollow. I don’t want anyone thinking anything bad about the people there, just because werewolf history is…” Dean stops again. “I know you like this paranormal stuff, so maybe you understand what I’m trying to say.”

“It’s pitbulls vs chihuahuas.”

Dean frowns at you. “Huh?”

“Chihuahuas are the most vicious dog breed, right? But they don’t have the stigma that pitbulls have. So werewolves have the pitbull stigma, when in reality there are chihuahuas out there who just attack who they want.”

Dean’s expression softens, and he starts to laugh. “Who’s the chihuahua in this situation?” he cackles

“I’m just trying to help!” You can’t help but giggle, seeing him laugh like that. You continue to laugh even as you make your drink order. Dean pays for your coffee, and you sit down together. It feels natural. The more you talk to him, the more and more you like him.

“Just so I don’t seem weird, would it be okay if I got your number now, rather than take it from the sign-up board?” Dean asks. “I don’t wanna be that guy.”

You bite your lip and nod. “I’d prefer it.”

“And, uh, just so I get that analogy correctly,” he murmurs as he takes out his phone. “You like pitbulls, right?”

You put your number into his contacts with a smile. “They’re my favorite dogs.”

“Okay, cool. Awesome.” Dean looks at his phone and types something. You get a text a second later. “That’s me.”

You look at your phone and grin. “A date?”

Dean nods. “Whenever you’re free.”

You could almost kiss him. “I’ll check my schedule when I get home, but I’m free this evening, unless you’re busy because it’s opening day.”

Dean looks very disappointed. “Yeah, it’s going to be hectic today. We’ll probably have a private celebration for the first day, then hit the bed until tomorrow.”

“Make sense. I’ll let you know what days are good for me when I get back home. Thanks for the coffee.” You stand up from the table. “Good luck with the rest of your opening day.”

“Thanks,” Dean beams. “I look forward to hearing from you.”

At home, you shower immediately out of force of habit. After that you message Dean back with the days you can go out. Saturdays are usually best, but you’re willing to give up an evening to go out with him. You don’t hear from him for a while - he’s busy, after all. But when he does reply, you get excited.

“I know it’s an odd day, but would Wednesday evening be okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I get off work around five, so how about we meet up somewhere at six?” you ask.

“Sounds good! Anywhere you’d like to go?”

You smile to yourself. “Would I be awful if I asked for a surprise?”

“Not at all. I’ll figure something out that’ll be fun. I’m kind of excited. Is that too embarrassing?” Dean texts back.

He’s so cute. “I’m excited too. It’s not embarrassing.”

“Okay, good!”

You text back and forth on and off with Dean all day, as you give your place its monthly deep clean. Once you’re done, it starts getting dark out, so you take a quick shower, have your dinner, and get into bed. It’s early, but you liked to catch up on TV on Saturday evenings. You play around on your phone a bit , reading up on werewolves. You read the story of Lyacon, who made a meal of a sacrificed boy, which angered Zeus so much that the god turned Lyacon and all his sons into werewolves. A Norse legend speaks of a father and son who wore magical pelts that turned them into wolves, and went on a killing spree which only ended when the father almost killed the son. It’s only until recently that werewolf stories emerged which softened their image, made them sympathetic and even heroic. There’s a lot of erotica too, but that’s a different story.

When you fall asleep, you drift into a dream. You’re dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, running through the forest, hoping to evade the hidden dangers in the trees until you reach the safety of the cottage up ahead. But the cottage stays fixed in the distance, no matter how far you move. You come to a stop, and the forest stretches out around you in every direction You hear raspy breathing from the trees, laughter and low voices. From the corner of your eye you see grey fur. You try to track it, but it keeps moving out of your field of view.

You walk ahead, and this time you reach the cottage in a few steps. You knock on the door, but there’s no reply. Again you see a flash of gray fur from the corner of your eye. You turn to catch it, but it moves away too quickly. You stand on tiptoe to peer through the cottage window, and inside you see a woman naked in bed, head thrown back, crying out in passion. Between her open thighs is a massive beast covered in fur. You watch curiously as the beast brings the woman to ecstasy. Her body shivers, her back arches, and the creature grins with pleasure as he lifts his great head. He’s a werewolf, his jowls glistening with the woman’s arousal. You marvel at how big his tongue is as he laps up the mess.

“All the better to eat you with, my dear.” The voice breathes into your ear, sending shivers and jolts of arousal down your legs. The wolf inside looks out the window and directly into your eyes, and grins wickedly before descending on the woman again. Hands climb up your legs, grasping you around the hips and holding you in place as you feel fur tickle the back of your legs. The werewolf growls into your ear, and you wake up.

You swallow hard, blinking blindly into the darkness around you. You check your phone for the time, then set it aside as you catch your breath. You’ve never had a wet dream like that before. You stand up to get a drink of water and try and sort this out. After reading all those werewolf stories, and some of the erotica, you were bound to have this kind of dream! Not to mention you’re excited for your date with Dean. You have high hopes for it going well and for ending your dry spell.

You get back in bed with your cold glass of water, and see that Dean has sent a text message while you were in the bathroom. “I know it’s late, but I’m out and about and had a good idea for a date. I can’t wait to see you again. I’m a little drunk.”

“Drink some water. Get some rest,” You text him back. Then you lean back against the headboard, sipping the cold water until you’ve mostly cooled down. But the dream comes back, and this time, you’re the woman on the bed.

On Wednesday evening, you’re waiting to be picked up. You’re nervous, which you know is silly, because you’ve seen Dean at the gym the past couple of mornings. This isn’t something completely new, except it really is. When Dean finally pulls up, he gets out of his car to greet you. “Okay, so I have reservations at a great restaurant. I have a couple of other things in mind, but I think we should see how we feel after we eat.”

Dean is beaming, and his hair is down too, showing off how long and wavy it is. He’s dressed nicely and smells delightful. You fidget shyly, feeling even more nervous to see him looking so good. “Okay. That sounds fun.”

“Everything okay?” Dean asks.

You nod. “You look really, really nice.”

Dean’s cheeks darken. “So do you.” His eyes dart around for a second, but then he smiles, and in the next instant you’re kissing. His hair is so soft. His hands are warm, and his lips feel amazing. Your head is spinning, and those werewolf sex dreams come back to haunt you.

Dean breaks the kiss. “Sorry,” he breathes. “I…”

You shake your head. “It’s okay. I was just thinking.” Your mind wanders, dazed.

“Dinner?”

“Dinner! Yeah,” you laugh.

The rest of the date goes well. Dean takes you out to eat, and afterwards you go for a walk to the pier, where live music is being performed. You end up kissing again, a lot more. You almost invite him up to your place, but decide to wait. You go out again on Thursday night, at a bar near your house, where you share a couple of drinks while you talk. You end up making out again, but just when you want to invite him over, Dean gets a call from his business partner and has to leave.

You plan a better date for Sunday afternoon. You’ve offered to make Dean lunch, then go out for a walk. It’s your usual Sunday routine, but it’s also partly a trap. If the mood is right, you can take it to your bedroom. If not, you’ll get a lovely walk.

Dean arrives at your door, looking a bit nervous. “Your place looks nice.”

“I just did a deep clean last week,” you tell him. “I can give you a tour before I finish up our lunch.”

“You do your cooking. I don’t wanna be a bother.” Dean looks around, then takes a seat. “I’m trying to be a good boy today.”

“A good boy?” you chuckle.

“Yeah, I’ve been handsy the last couple of times we went out. I’m telling myself to calm down and enjoy the moment.”

You smile shyly. “I thought that was me doing that.”

Dean’s smile grows. “No. Well, maybe not entirely.” His cheeks darken and he looks out the window. “You have a great view.”

“Thanks. I think I need to get curtains. Last night that full moon was driving me crazy,” you huff. “It was so damn bright. I can see why werewolves howl at it.”

Dean’s eyes widen. “Werewolves?”

“I mean wolves.” You feel caught. “I did!”

Dean looks you over. “Still on your werewolf kick?”

You look down to focus on what’s on the stove. “I know it bothers you. I’m sorry. I just got really curious.”

“It’s not werewolves I have an issue with,” Dean murmurs. “It’s hard to explain. I don’t even know how to explain it.” He stops and presses his lips into a firm line. “Maybe…”

“Maybe?” You turn to him again. “Maybe what?”

Dean’s eyes focus on you. He pulls his hair to the side, then tugs at the sleeves of his shirt, takes a deep breath and stands up. “Do you think these things you read about are real?” He approaches you. “Bigfoot and Mothman and all those things - do you think they’re actually out there, or do you think it’s all fun?”

You turn down the heat on the stove. “I think there are things out there that do exist. I’ve seen a ghost before. So why not all these other things? Why not werewolves and Mothman?”

Dean’s brow furrows. “You’ve seen a ghost?”

“When I was little. She would walk outside my door at night.” You smile shyly. “That’s why I like to read the Spoopy Forecast and stories about werewolves. Because I think it’s selfish to believe that humans are alone in the world.”

“But aren’t you afraid of those things?” Dean asks.

You sigh. “Of course I am! I’m not crazy. That Beach Beast has me so scared I haven’t been on my usual run route in three weeks!”

Dean looks a tad guilty. “What if those things were nice, though? What would you do?”

You shrug. “That seems like a fantasy. I dunno. Maybe talk to them? See if they’re okay?”

Dean comes closer. “Would you ever kiss one?” he asks teasingly.

You smirk at him. “Depends how cute they are.”

Dipping down, Dean kisses you, and you sigh happily as the kisses deepen. His hands knead into your hips and a low moan rumbles in his throat. “I really like you,” he murmurs into your ear.

“I really like you too.” You loop your arms around his neck. “What should we do about it?”

You kiss again, the intent growing more and more passionate. You may have to delay lunch, you think. But then Dean says something completely unexpected. “I’m a werewolf. I can show you.”

#monsterxhuman #monster boyfriend #monster romance #werewolf #werewolf boyfriend #monster lover #werewolf romance #my writing #momolady monsters #monster fudger

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plush-rabbit · 3 years

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Cultural Differences - BNHA Headcanons

Request: Hi! If it's not too much may I request a Shigaraki, Hawks, Overhaul and Dabi with an s/o who likes wearing revealing clothes because they grew up in western country. Like they're half japanese and half western. Thank you!

Warning: Breast is used gn here!! (not sure f that counts as a warning but i felt like the a/n not was too long)

A/N: I hope this is good. I tried to make in character as possible because I feel like I’ve been stray from that the past times i’ve been writing for them

Chisaki Kai:

It isn’t that Kai hates the clothes, it’s just that he isn’t used to them. Of course, fashion has evolved and things aren’t as prude as they were years ago, but even so, he’s someone who values traditional customs. The clothes aren’t anything that he hates, and most of the time, he finds them cute, as if you’re trying to fit into some sort of aesthetic, but it’s just different. It shows just a bit too much skin than what he likes and if he were to be honest, he would prefer if you covered up.

Most of the time, he allows you to wear whatever you want, but if it happens to be a certain temperature, he wants you to cover up and will scoff when you actually have the audacity to feel cold. Nonetheless, if you get sick, he can’t see you, so he’ll offer you a coat. If it happens just enough times, he’ll have you either start dressing in appropriate clothes for the weather, or he’ll get you a jacket that matches his. He finds it almost offensive with how quick you are to cover-up when he offers to get you a jacket like his- your taste may linger toward revealing, but he’s sure that jackets over clothing is still something that is considered fashionable.

He’s controlling and there’s no easy way around that. It’s a miracle that he lets you reveal as much skin as you do and that he’s hardly done anything about it. While he does mind that you go out in revealing clothing, there is nothing he can do about it, since he hardly sees you in your own home. However, if you were to visit the base, he has you follow a strict dress code. He doesn’t want people to gawk at you, and even if he isn't the type to officiate something, you are still with him, and that should be enough reason for you to cover up when you are around him and his subordinates. He doesn't want others to see you in a way that he is only meant to see you so before he brings you over, he’ll choose something for you to wear.

There are a few times that his actions and words can be hurtful. It’s nothing new, but sometimes it can be upsetting to hear such awful things leave his mouth- especially when they are directed towards you. It isn’t that he means the words, but sometimes, you just refuse to change into something more appropriate, and he always catches people staring at your exposed legs, or midriff. The few times when he catches people staring at your chest, is enough to send him over the edge. In the end, he apologizes in his own way- a small gift, his hand wrapping around yours- still covered in a glove- or even the next outing, not commenting on how short your attire is. He knows that sometimes his words can be a bit too harsh, that you aren’t like the others that he keeps around him, and that you aren’t used to his way of speaking, so he tries to relax a bit on it. He’ll blame it on the need to protect you, for you to understand that others are viewing you in some sort of way, but when you don't’ care about- when you only care about his opinion, he’s taken aback. He’s left speechless for a moment and then he nods to you and himself.

Of course there are going to be cultural clashes between the two of you, but he hadn’t expected clothing to be one of them. It isn’t that he hates it, he finds that you look rather cute in the things you wear, but, it’s also short. And people are vile, disgusting little things. He can almost sense the motivations behind every person when their eyes stare at the low cut of your shirt, and he just fumes, because you have no real motive to cover up. The last thing that Kai will do is plead for you to cover up, but he will often wrap his jacket around you, until you are away from the public eye. It’s always a weird moment for the both of you- he refuses to look at you and will let his hands linger a bit too long on your shoulders, and when he pulls away, he adjusts his gloves, telling you to keep up. To him, it’s just a bit more than him offering you his jacket at a certain point in the relationship, it isn’t him begging for you to cover up, but rather than the trust that he has with you to wear something of his. He hates germs, anything dirt and grime, but he’d be willing to give you a staple of his clothing as long as it meant that you weren't cold- or stared at by the perverse eyes of others.

Dabi:

Despite Dabi’s upbringing, he shed most of those ideals and morals once he became who he is now. He’s seen much more revealing things in all sorts of ways, so wearing something revealing isn’t a big deal to him. You wearing something revealing, is something up to you. He hardly cares one way or another about your style of attire. There are a few times where his more traditional sense of style will show, such as the almost brooding looks that he gives you when you wear something just a bit too short. However, despite that, he won’t say a word to you- what you choose to do, is what you choose to do- he has no reason to intervene unless it’s something potentially dangerous.

He sits at a weird line where he doesn’t look at you and your exposed skin, and where it’s just where his eyes happen to land on. You look great, there’s no doubt about it, but he’s also seen skin before, so he doesn’t know why it’s you that is so captivating. He doesn’t understand why seeing the side of your breasts makes him feel so flustered. He’s hot, burning at the nape of his neck and constricting around his chest until he’s dizzy and unable to catch his breath properly, and yet, he still can’t pry his eyes away from you. He can’t dare to look away and stop tracing over the soft stretch marks that curve around your thigh or the soft fat of your stomach that stretches when you lean over the counter.

Depending on where and who you are both with, is how he’ll act towards you. He doesn’t mind if you wear something revealing around the League; he knows that the most they’ll do is playfully hit on you in order to get a rise out of him, and as annoying as that is, he knows that around them, you’re safe. Being around strangers is a totally different story. He doesn’t know their intentions and even though he doesn’t, it doesn’t take much to figure out that those intentions are less than playful. He doesn’t like for others to be around you for too long and will often interject himself if you’re having a conversation with what he can assume is a stranger. He’ll put a stop to it immediately and as he pulls you away, he’s tempted to throw his jacket over you, but then you pull him closer to you and tell him how he’s cute when he’s jealous. There are few things to make him react, and that happens to be one of the few; he scoffs lightly, shaking his head and taking you elsewhere- often to another seedy bar or back to the hideout.

Most of the time, he has his hands on you. Whether it be on your knee or curved around your thigh, he keeps you within arms’ length. He doesn’t like for you to leave his side for too long, and tries to keep you around him in the most subtle ways possible. There are few times where he’ll actively ask for you to stay beside him, and even then, those are rare moments where the alcohol has taken over and he’s leaning close to you, his breath warm on your neck as he asks you to not leave him. When he isn’t intoxicated, he’ll throw his leg over yours and keep you trapped there, giving you a short wolfish grin as he refuses to move even when you begin to lightly hit his knee.

There are very few things that Dabi shows to the public, but at the end of it, he is emotional, bubbling over and showing his true nature when it’s late enough. He’ll lean beside you, trace over your skin and watch as goosebumps prick under his fingertip and when he catches your eyes, he waits for you to tell him to stop, but when you don’t, he continues. He likes to touch your skin, to let his touch trace over anything and everything exposed- to trace against your stretch marks, to touch at each birthmark and mole, to let his fingers hover over your scars, and he could fall asleep doing just that. He likes the difference, the way that you laugh lightly when he touches your sides, or how you shiver when he ghosts over your ribs, and when he finally falls asleep, his hand is over your stomach.

Takami Keigo:

Keigo may play the playboy attitude, but he’s under constant watch of the hero commission which leads him to have little romantic relationship. He’s charismatic, and he’s received his fair share of uncomfortable fan-mail, but it’s different when your partner reveals little clothing- at least in Japanese standards. When you come to him wearing clothing that leaves little to the imagination, he can’t help but feel his face grow hot and look away from you. Sure, he’s seen and been given pictures that are much more lewd than what you wear, but it feels different when it’s someone that he cares about in a romantic sense. Each brush of your skin against his leaves him giving you a small smile, while a few of his feathers flutter against each other in a weak attempt to remain calm.

It isn’t that he’s uncomfortable with you wearing so little- just a bit, but that’s more for cultural and personal reasons- but he also just wants you to wear more. The hero commission already controls so much of his life, and he’s fearful that if you get any sort of bad reputation, it’ll follow him and cause the commission to terminate the relationship he has with you. He doesn’t want his relationship to end with you, and he’ll request that you wear more. He hates how you pout and whine telling him that you’re just used to wearing a bit less, but he hints that it’s something that you should do. That usually puts an end to the conversation, but he still feels a bit bad for trying to control you and how you dress.

Control is something that he knows well and something that he’s dealt with his whole life, and the last thing he wants is to control you. He doesn’t want to tell you what to wear or what not to wear, but it’s difficult. You wear so little and while he doesn’t hate it, he doesn’t want other people to judge you. Whether it be for hero work or casual wear, he’s often seen wearing a jacket. Because of that, he’ll give you his jacket most of the time, gently putting it around your shoulders and flexing his wings when you actually wear it, acting as some sort of curtain for you. Truth be told, while he is a fan of you wearing short attire, he prefers seeing you with his jacket around you, loose fitting and just enough collar to hide the lower half of your face.

Your style of clothing isn’t something that he hates. He actually likes it. It’s almost teasing, seeing the bare skin of your upper thigh, or the soft swell of your breast that hides under the low cut shirt. He can see why you would wear those types of things- you look good in them, and they’re quite cute. On more than one occasion, he’s caught himself staring at you, letting his eyes linger just on the edge of where your shorts bite against your thigh, the soft push of the fat or catching your midriff when you raise your arms over your head in a yawn. When he does catch himself, he turns away, clearing his throat and going to hold your hand, his smile tense as he tries to discreetly catch his breath.

Being a hero- a top one at that- requires for the hero to be charismatic. They have to have a good smile and look pretty for the camera, and while he’s all of that, his life has been under control and under the watchful eyes of the hero commission. Keigo has never had time for a romantic relationship, so when you come along, it’s quite a surprise for him with everything that comes with it. You’re affectionate and yet, the cultural difference is never something that he realized would have played a big part in the relationship. You’re so different compared to him and he welcomes it. He likes that you wear revealing attire and even if it does make him flustered, he can’t help but enjoy how much freedom you have. You’re different compared to him and he enjoys it. He loves to lean into your touch and feel how warm your skin is because the sun has touched you, not because you’re covered in layers, but because you just are.

Shigaraki Tomura:

Tomura hasn’t been exposed to much of life outside of murder and hatred. When you come to him with revealing clothing, it’s something that he isn’t used to. He’s used to watching shows that show two-dimensional characters in revealing outfits, but reality doesn’t touch with the revealing clothing. So here you are, wearing revealing outfits that have him scratching more out of anxiety rather than annoyance and hatred, and he can’t help but feel his heart race and beat against his ribs, to make sure that Father is properly placed to avoid anyone peeking at his pink tinted cheeks. There’s still a bit of a cultural shock with how different the two of you dress when compared, but to him it’s insignificant.

Due to being raised in a sheltered environment, he has been denied anything meaningful in his life like relationships- romantic or not- so when given the freedom to finally have a relationship, he doesn’t notice how often he stares. Whether you sit beside him or across the room, his eyes are on you, tracing over your body, watching how you hold your cup and bring the rim to your lips, and when you catch his eyes, he looks away. He’ll deny that he ever stared at you, and if pressed, he’ll only tell you that he stared because you had something on your shirt. He hates being caught, it makes him feel as if he has done something perverse, and leaves him feeling almost shameful, and even if you were to laugh and tell him that you don’t mind, he still can’t help but grumble under his breath and move away.

At a certain point of the relationship, it becomes less shameful to stare at you, and more normalized. He sits close to you and when you start to talk, he’ll keep his eyes on you, and even when done, he’s still watching you. He’ll start to be more playful, softly elbowing your side and teasing at your short attire with a sharp grin. He enjoys how you’ll jab back and pull at his sleeve or even when you stick out your tongue and call him some crude name that he’ll return. The relationship becomes much more lighthearted, where the two of you just lean into each other.

You choosing to wear something revealing interfere in anything that he does, so he doesn’t mind how you dress. He doesn’t own you, and no one owns him, he wants you to feel comfortable however you dress, and if you feel better dressing in something short, then he doesn’t care. At the end of the day, it’s about how comfortable you are, and he’s grateful that you’re comfortable around him to dress in something revealing. There are a few times where he prefers to have you dress a bit more revealing, wanting to touch your skin and watch how you react to him- the little jumps, the bumps that cover your skin, the hitch in your breath when he happens to graze over a sensitive spot. It’s much more than just trying to get a rise out of you, it’s to touch you and feel that you are real beneath him, that you willingly let him touch you despite his quirk.

Tomura just likes having you around. He’ll try to keep you to himself as much as he can, excluding the both of you from events that the league invites him to. It isn’t that he’s jealous of the attention that they’ll give you like the playful flirting, but rather, he just misses you. He wants you beside him, he wants to touch you and keep you by his side. He wants to be greedy and not let anyone see you when you wear so little, he wants it to be for him. He understands that it isn’t, that it’s just how you dressed back home and it’s something that you’re used to, but he wants to believe that it’s for him. The infamous villain wants to believe that you’d wear something revealing for him in a way to show that you trust him, that you’re comfortable in letting him see you and touch your skin that is so different compared to his. To him, touch is important, it’s denied and dangerous for him, and yet with you, you welcome him and that’s enough for him to lean into you and rest his head on your chest.

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imjeralee · 3 years

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can you maybe write for Childe, Zhongli, Link, and Human!Revali where theyre immortal or live for a very long time, and one day their s/o gets hurt and dies in their arms? then years later they stumble across them again, theyre a different person but they have the same soul. yet.. they dont remember them right away...but then they fall in love again? im feeling angsty, apologies

Hi anon! thanks for the ask and sorry for the delay!! I’m afraid I wasn’t able to write a Link and Human!Revali headcanon for the time being (I will write and post Link and Revali HCs later, sorry!!!!!) but I was able to write something for Childe and Zhongli for now so here goes.

PS they’re really long so it’s below the cut. I might as well have written some fanfics on this since they’re pretty much stories XD

Childe:

WARNINGS for violence/blood here -

When he’s dispatched the last of your attackers, he rushes back to your side and finds you lying on the ground. At first he thinks you’re playing as you usually tease each other, and so he drops beside you with a hefty sigh before he scoops you up and into his arms.

“Hey, you good? Don’t tell me those guys gave you a run for your money,” he says, grinning. He’s out of breath, sweating slightly.

When you don’t reply, however, at first he thinks you’re still teasing but it’s quickly replaced with concern. He knows something is wrong. You let out a pained moan and close your eyes, murmuring his name weakly. His playful, jovial attitude dissolves into panic. Childe sits up properly with you in his arms, giving you a little shake and asking what’s wrong.

As he turns you round in his arms, he notices you’re bleeding profusely from a grievous wound. No longer smiling, panic takes ahold of him. “What happened? No, no, no, this can’t be. This can’t be happening. Stay with me Y/N, stay with me.” Planting his hands on the sides of your face, making you look at him. “Look at me. That’s it. Just keep looking at me. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” He keeps chanting that over and over again as he glances around the area frantically before he attempts to lift you off the ground but you stop him. It’s too late.

Instead, you merely hold his hand firmly and he entwines your fingers together and you see the fear and despair in his eyes. You tell him you’re not going to make it but he shakes his head.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, you hear? Teucer’s waiting for you to take him to the seaside, remember? We were…we were meant to go to the seaside together.”

As he speaks, he holds you tightly and he feels your laborious breathing against his chest and he keeps talking until you go still and quiet in his arms and he stops. At first, he can’t bear to bring himself to look at you and holds you firmly against his chest, resting his chin atop your head, closing his eyes.

Then he begins to weep.

A broken man, Childe vows revenge, swearing vengeance on your killers. In a blind rage, he spends countless of years hunting them down one by one. It’s not hard to achieve considering he has all the time in the world. His most recent excursion leads him to the final ringleader who lives in a citadel. Childe kills all the guards and everyone else who stands in his way until he reaches his target. At first, the man fights him but Childe overpowers him easily.

“Who the hell are you?” the man screams.

Childe rips off his mask to reveal his face. “Remember me?” He snarls.

The man goes wide-eyed and tries to run away with Childe in pursuit, but before Childe can reach him, the man has grabbed a random person in his way and thrown them onto Childe’s path as a human shield.

“Father!?” Childe hears the person exclaiming in shock as they’re roughly shoved towards Childe’s direction. Childe realises the man has grabbed their kid to use as the human shield.

Disgusted, Childe is about to deal the finishing blow until he catches them mid fall and their gazes meet; those eyes. They remind him of….you

And something deep inside him screams STOP! And Childe is briefly brought to a halt in his rampage. He doesn’t recognise them, but he feels your soul within.

What the frick? You had reincarnated into this bastard’s kid??? He’s shocked for a brief moment and a few guards who are still alive manage to sneak up on him. Childe returns to action mode and fights off his attackers, grabs you, and whilst he doesn’t get the chance to kill his target, he escapes the citadel with you in his clutches and you’re left screaming for help.

You’ve been abducted by Childe and he’s taken you to the forest where he pins you against the tree and forces you to look at him, left and right, up and down. Whilst you plead and beg for mercy with your eyes squeezed shut and knees quaking, he lets go of you harshly. He doesn’t want to believe it’s you, but there’s no doubt about it. He senses your soul within. He recognises your eyes. You’ve reincarnated.

“Show me.” He demands.

“…What?”

“Your birthmark. The one on your shoulder?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have any-”

“Don’t lie to me.”

He turns you round and pulls on your shirt to expose the back of your shoulder where your birthmark is. Whilst you wonder how the hell he knows you have a mark, he lets go of you then and you quickly pull your clothes back on properly, face red. What the hell!!!

Childe just staring at you in brief shock.

“It’s you. It’s really you.”

A lot of emotions are going through him right now; he’s relived and so damn happy, at the same time he’s like confused and angry by the whole situation

But the first thing he does is hug you tightly.

And the first thing you do is grab the nearest rock and bludgeon his head with it.

He’s taken aback and lets go of you, stumbling backwards with a bleeding head but he easily shakes off your assault and throws the rock to the side and you’re terrified, inching away as he goes, “Did you think that would kill me? I’ll let you in a little secret; I’m immortal.”

Not really sure who/what you’re dealing with, you flee but you hear him yelling, “You can run but you can’t hide!”

And as you toss a glance over your shoulder, he’s still standing there for a split second before he promptly vanishes from his spot. This weird cat and mouse game ensues with Childe stalking you through the forest and you’re either trying to run or hide until he finally catches you and pins you against the ground. You can’t escape.

“Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmurs, but you don’t believe him. “Just…stay with me for a few days, okay?”

It doesn’t matter; over the next few days, you’re effectively Childe’s prisoner and he seems to enjoy teasing you; he tried to talk to you but you refused and ignored him. It was quite difficult to do so especially when its time for dinner and he’s cooking grilled tiger fish - which is actually your favourite food - and although you’re salivating, he looks at you and grins and waves the grilled tiger fish on a stick in front of you, going, “Hungry?”

You turn away with a frown and he shrugs, “Suit yourself. But I know it’s your favourite.”

You’re confused and about to ask him, but you hear him eating and throw a glance at him to see he’s chomping down and your stomach rumbles. You choose to sleep instead to ignore the hunger but you wake up during the night, starving.

“Eat this,” says a voice, and a grilled tiger fish is plopped down in front of you and Childe is there, crouching by your side. He leaves you alone so you can eat.

You’re surprised by your captor’s behaviour and you initially hate him for what he’s done however he doesn’t harm you in any way. He doesn’t keep you tied up or anything and he’s quite entertained should you ever try to run away because he’ll always just catch up to you and just pick you up and throw you over his shoulder or something and carry you back.

Your travels with Childe continues but you don’t get the feeling that he hates you or wants to hurt you in anyway. In fact, he keeps surprising you by providing you with your favourite food, favourite drinks and other stuff. It confuses you and though you want to ask him, you’re a little too afraid as to what he might just tell you. Some days you even come across him looking at you a little forlornly but just when you notice, he changes in a split second and will grin at you. Even when it’s nighttime and you’re meant to take a bath, he won’t perv on you. When you arrive at the next village, he asks for a nice room for the two of you and allows you to take the bed, eat as much as you want etc etc. In fact, he’s….taking care of you. He even starts buying you things and whilst you turn down everything he offers, you see his expression crumble and you don’t know what he’s trying to do.

One night he sleeps in the open and you grab a knife, about to drive it in his throat although you’re not sure how much good that’ll do but then you hear him murmur, “You don’t know it…but I’ve been looking for you forever…and I’ve been waiting for you for such a long time… and you end up being the kid of that bastard…the one who killed you, the one who took you away from me….the one who started all this in the first place…”

Confused by what you had just heard, you watch him in steely silence before you slowly lower your hand and put away the knife. The next day he goes “I know what you were trying to do last night. Why didn’t you do it?”

“I didn’t want to. I’m not a killer like you.” You quip back, but he merely laughs.

The days continue but the dynamic seems to have changed; when Childe gets you something, you start thanking him and he goes red in the face and you also begin to feel weird around him. Before long, you’re both having food together, having some conversations and you’re accustomed to travelling around with him. He’ll always keep you safe and make sure you have a warm bed each night too. Sometimes when he looks at you, you don’t look away either.

Before long, your father’s men finally catches up; they begin to hunt you and Childe down and you’re stunned when you realised you’re about to get rescued. Something terrible flickers in your mind - maybe you don’t want to be rescued and you want to stay with Childe? After all, he’s taken you to so many places and you’ve seen so many things. Your father kept you cooped up in the citadel for years and this is really the first time you’ve experienced freedom.

Also, you don’t want Childe to get caught. You want him to run away. But he won’t run away without you. And when you question this, he goes, “I can’t afford to lose you again!!”

During the chase, a bunch of arrows are fired towards your direction and you’re worried about Childe, but when the arrows are about to hit you, you squeeze your eyes shut but nothing happens. Reopening your eyes, you see Childe has shield you with his body.

You’re surrounded and as Childe falls, collapsing into your arms, he’s quickly captured and you are returned home. But everything feels boring and dull now, and your father seems more occupied in torturing Childe than checking to see if you’re alright. You ask your father what happened between him and Childe and he tells you he killed his lover many years ago and now Childe has been seeking revenge. When you ask him why he killed Childe’s lover, your father just laughs and says there was no reason.

You’re conflicted. What is this? Why do you feel pity for Childe, and anger towards your father? Why do you feel you are more on Childe’s side now?

I’m in love with him, you realise -- much to your shock.

Your father announces Childe will be executed by dawn and you hastily rush to where they’re holding him, hoping not to be seen. When you find Childe, he’s badly beaten but still alive and you quickly unshackle him and as he sees you freeing him, he smiles at you; when the last of his shackle is unlocked, he falls forwards but you catch him and your gazes meet.

“Go,” you whisper.

“Not without you. Come with me.” He murmurs, placing a hand to your cheek. “I can’t lose you again.”

You don’t even need to think twice, nodding.

Zhongli

He didn’t think you would ever die... and in his arms no less. He found you after the battle and when he saw that you were grievously wounded, he could not believe his eyes. He was too late and unable to save you, so he merely held you in his arms as you told him with weak breaths that this was the end. He promises that he’ll find you again and holds you tightly as he feels your warmth slowly disappearing, the life escaping from your eyes and then you were simply…gone

For a while, he merely sat with you in the ashen field, cradling you tightly to his chest before he picked you up and retreated silently. No one would see him for several centuries following that but it was rumoured he went to the mountains to bury you. He was in mourning.

Zhongli never forgot you and his love for you never went away so he’s comforted by the fact that your soul will be reincarnated albeit into a different vessel and as he promised, begins to search for your whereabouts when it’s finally time.

He roams the world to no end and many decades pass. Eventually he gets tired and one day he even passes out from exhaustion, reverting to a dragon form to recuperate.

And you’re walking home from the mountains and you come across this huge dragon resting on a rock and you’re like oh my archon. But it looks like he’s sick so as you approach nervously and poke at his body gently with a stick (no response), and also press your ear against his scaly belly (he’s breathing and you can hear a heartbeat), you’re aware the dragon is still alive. You quickly rush home to grab some makeshift medicine made from herbs and return to the sick dragon

Zhongli too weary to open his eyes or lift his head, and as he drifts in and out of consciousness, he thinks he hears your voice and he’s comforted by the familiarity and as you sit with him, stroking his horns and mane, he kind of inches towards you and into your arms. As the day progresses, the sun is particularly harsh so you set up little parasols and pull huge leaves over his head to provide as much shade as possible. Occasionally the dragon has nightmares but you’re able to calm him down by petting him

When it gets dark, you need to head home but you’re a little reluctant, so you leave behind some food for him and drape a blanket over his body (though this doesn’t cover him much). However, during the night, it’s thunder and lightning and you get worried for the dragon so you rush back out and you find the dragon being battered by the rain whilst curled up into a tight ball and shivering under the blanket so you quickly try to move him but oh lawd he heavy and suddenly the blanket gets blown away by the wind when he lifts a claw so you race after it and end up almost falling off a cliff - to your surprise, the dragon swoops down to save you and you faint but before you black out, you think you see a young man in the dragon’s place, staring at you with much intrigue

He has the same eyes as the dragon

That night, you have strange dreams of that man. He acts as if he knows you, calls you by a different name and you are also his lover. The dream is long, but ends with your demise - which forces you to wake up in a panic

You’re surrounded by the coiled up dragon who has gotten better from your care but when he wakes up, he’s cautious and observes you for a few moments.

You and this dragon staring at each other until you slowly reach a hand to touch him

Your hand lands over his snout and you’re surprised he’s allowing you to pat him, but whatever, you’re super happy at his recovery and you can go home now. It’s time to part ways and as you head towards the direction of your home, you throw glances over your shoulder to see the dragon watching you silently

On the way, you think about the dragon and the strange dreams and attract the attention of a group of treasure hoarders who are wandering around the wilderness. However, to your surprise, you are saved by a young man - and it’s the very man from your dreams! He manages to defeat the bandits but you see he’s hurt and he almost collapses if you weren’t there to catch him. The moment he landed in your arms and that same sense of familiarity swept over you. You’re quick enough to react and sweep those thoughts away and bring the poor man home, lugging his polearm over your back along with your basket

You look after this young man and nurse him back to health. During this time, he looks at you strangely and when he’s sleeping, his calls out the name you were called in the dream. When you think he’s having a nightmare and you go over to check if he’s ok, giving him a little shake on the arm, he throws his arms around you and holds you close, begging you not to leave him and that he had spent eons looking for you. When you tell him he’s got the wrong person…it’s as though he comes to his senses and he quickly releases you, apologising for his behaviour and thanking you for his hospitality

He tells you his name is Zhongli and because he’s injured, you give him the spare room in the back and take care of him. During this period of interaction, at first it’s quite strange and maybe a little awkward, because hell he is an insanely attractive man (he can’t be single, no way) and you’re bustling around the house, doing chores/cleaning up or tending to your garden and he watches you the entire time and this goes on for a few days before he joins in to help when you’re hanging up the laundry though you don’t want him to help because he’s injured but he assures you he wants to do his part.

So Zhongli becomes a part of your everyday life where during the day and you both have breakfast together before you head to the market together to buy groceries and later, he accompanies you to pick herbs in the mountain.

One day you’re tired so he sits with you and massages your leg and you’re so embarrassed but at the same time, your heart is beating like crazy. He even carries you down the steep path all the way home.

At night time and you sit together on the front porch watching fireflies and chatting idly for hours.

He ends up staying for a long time and one day, when it’s time to redress his wound, you notice he’s completely healed - and it looks like he actually healed up a while ago. You blink in confusion before turning to him and he looks at you before he reaches for your hand and holds it firmly, smoothing his thumb over the back of your hand

A distant memory, more like deja vu, flickers through your mind and you realise Zhongli has held your hand like this before and you run out of the room, confused. Zhongli worried he scared you off so he doesn’t pursue you

When it’s night, you dream again but it’s becoming so vivid you end up confused the next morning, waking up in an unfamiliar house and in an unfamiliar body and screaming for Zhongli. As you calm down, he holds you in his arms and it reminds you of the dream you had when you died in his embrace. You briefly forget yourself for a moment before murmuring Zhongli’s name - and it reminds him of how you used to say his name eons ago and he gets sentimental, giving in because he knows you are the reincarnation of his lover and when you kiss, that’s when everything floods back and you remember everything

Finally reunited with your lover, you share an embrace, determined not to be separated ever again

#genshin impact #zhongli #zhongli genshin impact #Zhongli x you #Zhongli x reader #zhongli headcanons #childe #childe x you #childe x reader #childe headcanons #tartaglia #tartaglia headcanons #tartaglia x you #tartaglia x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin impact headcanons

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ascottywrites · 3 years

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AO3 History

That list that I, for some reason, think is valid enough to share. My personal Ao3 History.

Saddle up. The inner interests of my brain are kind of all over the place.

The Basement by My_Write_Life (Wip: 25/? | 40,696) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated E]

Stiles doubles back to the Argent’s house to free Erica and Boyd before making it back home. In which Stiles, not forgetting all about Erica and Boyd very much remaining in the basement saves them, Derek and Peter killing Jackson does make him go through the process of rebirth but he is brought back human and not a werewolf. Allison and her family go through the very legal repercussions of abducting three teenagers and Scott and Stiles friendship is put on hold because of that. Derek’s still the alpha.

Strip by Fessst (Wip: 12/? | 54,439) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated E]

"Singletail whip. Your favorite, isn't it?" Red. Stiles felt nauseated as he bent over the bench. Red. The tremble only increased when his wrists and ankles were secured with leather straps. Red. He heard the Dom behind him give a sample crack of the whip in the air. Red. This would likely pierce his skin. So fucking Red. "What's your safeword?" Red. "Stiles?" "The... the stoplights, Sir."

When Your Back’s Against the Wall by A_Diamond, Michicant123 (Complete: one-shot | 11,976) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated E]

Fifteen years ago, the country of Beacon was shaken to its core when three slaves murdered most of the royal Hale family and one of the politically powerful Argents in the course of a single night.

Six years ago, Stiles Stilinski was forced to grow up fast and hard when his dying mother, herself a freed slave, left him at the head of an abolitionist revolution.

Two months ago, beloved princess-to-be Allison Argent was assassinated; three weeks ago, Stiles was caught and charged with her death.

Five hours ago, he was sentenced to serve the remaining Hales—tyrannical King Peter and reclusive Prince Derek—as a slave for the rest of his life. In a palace where the only people who may hate him more than the king are the ever-present family of the woman he’s convicted of murdering, the best he can hope for is that death will only be a few torturous years away.

Caution: swallowing dick may lead to injury - memoirs of a size queen

raeupchen (Complete: one-shot | 7,115) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated E]

“Derek, can you give me my phone? I want to document this memorable moment,” Stiles said, before making grabby motions in the direction of his phone. Derek – unable to deny the other man anything – gave him the device before sitting back in his chair. He only raised one eyebrow when he saw what Stiles was up to. Apparently ‘documenting this memorable moment’ meant for Stiles to take a selfie and post it online. He showed Derek the picture with the caption ‘Dick sent me to the ER’.

soulmates tbh by bleep0bleep (Complete: one-shot | 1,423) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated Teen and Up]

"It’s been five months," Derek says darkly. "Why am I still getting these proposals? You know these are probably all fake marks."

Five months since the paparazzi had snapped that photo of him with the overzealous fan tugging at his shirt, five months since millions of people on the Internet realized that the birthmark revealed was in fact, the mark, five months Derek was inundated by claims from people who desperately wanted him to believe that they were his soul-mate.

Cornerstone by Vendelin for foreverblue_navy (Complete: 6/6 | 83,738) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated E]

Suffering from PTSD, ex-Marine Derek Hale moves back to Beacon Hills to open a bookshop and find a calmer life. That’s where he meets Stiles, completely by accident. Stiles is talkative, charming and curious. Somehow, despite the fact that he’s blind, he’s able to read Derek like no one else.

The Triskelion Mafia - Volume I by JamesAlexander (Complete: 10/10 | 20,834) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated E]

Derek Aletto saw his family being killed in front of him. Years of ruling the underworld of the organized crime were flushed down with the flames and the shot of a gun. Sixteen years later, under the name of the Triskelion Mafia, the family is back, leaded by Derek. He keeps his most trusted people close, for the Argento family is forever watching, trying to usurp Derek's prestige among the hidden world of New York. And everything seems to go according to plan, until the Argentos set an ambush for Derek's consigliere, Lydia Martini, and in the middle of the rush for survival, she ends up bringing Stiles along with her to the family's hideout.

tipping scales by jdphoenix (Complete: 2/2 | 3,810) Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.: BioSpecialist [Rated Teen and Up]

An early morning emergency wakes Jemma and Grant.

Slick As A Baby Seal by Faradaze (Wip: 52/? | 131,098) Game Of Thrones: Brimund TarthBane [Rated E]

Tormund is in love/lust. Brienne is repulsed, then intrigued. The story begins shortly after Brienne arrives at Castle Black. This is my interpretation and expansion of the greatest ship that never was. Spoilers for GoT season 6, canon divergent as of season 7.

Rich Man, Poor Man by TyReed (Complete: 10/10 | 58,055) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated M]

During a first date gone horribly wrong, Stiles Stilinksi realizes that the snarky guy he's been asked out by is actually Derek Hale, an heir to Hale Industries, one of the most profitable companies in the entire world. Who is, for whatever reason, interested in the son of a teacher and a cop, a loser who spends all weekend watching movies in his pajamas, and who is also possibly one of the biggest dorks on the Internet.

At the same time, after screwing up their first date horribly, Derek Hale realizes that the funny guy he's asked out is Stiles Stilinksi, the warmest and kindest individual he's ever met in his life, with a family just a loving and caring. Who is, for whatever reason, interested in a guy who screws up everything he does, lacks any semblance of a backbone, and who is possibly one of the biggest history dorks in all of the United States.

These rich and poor men will come to experience a taste of each other's lives, and learn where the real blessings in the world can be found.

Bonds of Blood, Bonds of Family, Bonds of Love by TyReed (Complete: 10/10 | 44,003) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated M]

After being beaten up by a door, werewolf Stiles Stilinksi finds himself bonded to Derek Hale, of the Hale Noble Bloodline. For a scrawny, wimpy, Tainted Bloodline werewolf, Stiles runs away, embarrassed and humiliated as he worries about bringing shame to the Hale Family, and even more shame to himself. Because the Nobles and Tainted just don't mix, never have, never will.

Except, things aren't exactly what they seem.

With the help of the (meddling) Hale family, his adoptive (meddling) human parents John and Claudia Stilinksi, and one very persistent Alpha Derek Hale, Stiles might come to see himself as more than just the blood that runs through his veins, and open his heart to find the happiness, friends, pack, and the family that he'd always wanted.

Matenapped by xcaellachx (Complete: 12/12 | 36,671) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated E]

Alpha Derek Hale has known Spark Stiles Stilinski was his mate for over six years. The traumatized Spark had killed the rogue alpha who tried to kill his friend so many years ago and was still scarred by the experience. Now, Stiles was settled in as a magic shop owner and Derek was ready to claim him for his own. The ritual of matenapping was an old but accepted tradition and Derek had his den ready to receive his mate. It was time.

Stiles Stilinski thought Lydia was insane for thinking the sexy alpha wanted to matenap him. He was damaged by his past and determined to stay single so he didn't harm anyone. He kept his magic tightly leashed and couldn't believe that anyone could want him. Not a murderer. Even when the wolf came to see him and touched him gently, winking at him and looking at him longingly, he just couldn't accept it.

Very soon, Stiles wouldn't have a choice but to believe it. Derek was taking his mate and bringing him to his mating den where he would court and woo him until he couldn't help but fall in love with him.

(A/N: This is a lighthearted fic for the most part. This isn't an evil kidnapping/fall in love with your captor type. Not very serious at all, to be honest. Enjoy!)

**I could have sworn I had more eclectic tastes but I guess in 2018 I was firmly about the Sterek.

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eideticmemory · 4 years

Text

FINE LINE | SPENCER REID

Two decades and two children later, you and your ex-husband learn to navigate the world of co-parenting.

Word Count: 2,604.

Warning: Daddy issues, mommy issues, angst, drama, romance. Love to see it.

You could feel it. The light illuminating your face, touching it with a gentle heat that made your eyes flutter open. Your head felt heavy, as if your neck was attempting to support the weight of a canon ball. You rested your skull on the back of the chair you sat in, eyelids dropping just above your irises. Just in the distance, you could make out a cinema screen. Large, blurry, projecting a bright white screen.

Her image appeared in the center of the square, perfect, in place, still. But you could make out the grin on her face. Watching her dark red lips release the words, “Hello, sleepyhead.”

You could just barely muster up the strength to part your lips, pushing out a small gust of air. It was hot and made your mouth feel like it was on fire.

“H—“

“Oh,” she interrupted you, gently, quietly. You jumped at the feeling of her touching your arm, her palm tight around your forearm. She was cold, freezing, but you could still feel warmth radiating off of her. “I’m afraid you can’t stay too long this time. It’s time to wake up.”

“Hm?” You whined. “Mm?”

“Wake up,” she repeated. “C’mon, wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake u—“

“Up!”

You jolted, violently, harshly, your eyes springing open to reveal the usual sight of your bedsheets.

“Mom, wake up,” an exasperated voice sounded from beside you, the words catching your attention instantly. Tightly.

“Huh?” You mumbled, flickering your eyes up to the figure at your side, sitting on your bed, looking at you with a concerned stare. “Hm?”

“Are you alright?” Eden asked. Sunlight shone on her face, giving her the appearance of an angel. Sent to wake you, pull you back into reality. “What were you dreaming about?”

You let out a long sigh, as if you could even begin to explain your subconscious mind to your 15-year-old daughter. “Oh, y’know,” you whispered, sitting yourself upright and resting back against the headboard. “Just...lions, and tigers, and bears.”

“Oh my,” Eden responded, her big brown eyes concentrated on your face.

You chuckled underneath your breath, and let out a quick huff. “Oh, shoot, is your brother up?”

“He’s up, he’s dressed, he’s fed, and reading the Illiad.”

“Oh?” You stepped out of bed, pulling the duvet over your legs to reveal your pajama pants. “What happened to War and Peace?”

“He finished that yesterday.”

“He gets quicker every hour,” you shook your head.

“It’s a genius thing,” Eden shrugged. She fiddled with the ends of her hair, watching the strands brush over her fingers as she chewed her lip. “Hey, mom?”

“Yeah, kid?” You replied, standing in the bathroom mirror as you began to get ready for the day.

“You—you know dad, right?”

You stopped in your tracks, any and all movements coming to a halt. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and you spun on your heels, slowly, until you came face to face with Eden. “Uh . . . your dad?”

“Yes.”

“Tall? Long, brown hair? Hazel eyes? Has a birthmark on his right thigh?” You listed, toothbrush hanging from your mouth.

“Ew,” Eden cringed. “Yes.”

“Never met him in my life,” you shrugged.

“Mom.”

“Kid,” you tilted your head, face softening as you realized how nervous she was. “What’s up?”

She sighed, ducking her head down to avoid eye contact. “I invited him to my sweet 16.”

“Oh.” It came out like reflex. You said the word before you could fully process the information.

“Are you mad?”

“No—huh? E,” you rushed to sit beside her. “You don’t have to hide inviting your father from me—you—you don’t have to invite your father at all. He’s always welcome to visit on your birthday. And of course he should be at your sweet sixteen.”

“Really?” Eden questioned, eyebrows raised. “So, it will be a nice day? A nice party? Everyone will be nice to everyone?”

“Yes, yes, girl scouts honor.”

“Good,” she nodded, a satisfied smile on her face. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him.”

“Oh, babe,” you murmured, tucking her hair behind her ear. “It—“

“Mom!” A shrill voice struck both of you with fear, coming out of nowhere.

“Yes, my love?” You directed at Emerson, watching him fidget with his hands in the doorway. His shaggy brown hair covered his face slightly and his button up was tucked into his khaki shorts.

“My chess tournament starts soon, are you coming?” He asked.

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world, kiddo. You and your sister go downstairs while I get dressed.”

They’re obedient, your kids. Kind, driven, smart — with an average IQ of 187.5. The could take over the world if they really, really wanted to. But they don’t. They just want to go out for pizza, and get their twenty dollar allowance every week, hang out with their friends, focus on school, and . . . to see their father. You solemnly set your toothbrush down in the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror — tired, worn out, nauseous from another . . . dream? Nightmare? You’re not sure, and frankly, you don’t want to think about it.

So, you pushed on. You got dressed, fixed your hair, used light makeup to cover your exhaustion. Stepping out into the bedroom, your eyes quickly fell on your cellphone — the device laying on your bedside dresser. Hands on your hips, you shook your head, telling yourself not to do it. It’s not necessary, it’s overbearing to even think about.

Then, you remembered who you were dealing with here. And you rushed over to picked up the phone.

“[y/n] Reid,” he beamed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I heard you talked to E,” you whispered, pacing back and forth in your bedroom.

“I did,” Spencer confirmed. “She called me the other day.”

“To invite you to her birthday party.”

“Yes.”

“And are you planning on coming?” You asked.

“Of course I’m planning on coming. It’s my daughter’s sixteenth birthday.”

“Right, right, it’s not like you missed her fifteenth, or thirteenth, or her twelfth, or her actual birth, or anything.”

“[y/n]—”

“Listen, I didn’t call to argue, or even talk,” you sighed. “I just called to tell you that this party isn’t an option. You will be here Saturday at 10 o’clock sharp, you will help decorate, you will spend time with your children, and you will make this the best damn day Eden Reid has ever had. Understood?”

“I have to help decorate?”

��Spencer—“

“I will be there. 10 o’clock. I will help decorate, I will spend time with my children, I will make this the best damn day Eden Reid has ever had. I understand.”

You released a quiet huff, like your lungs couldn’t stand to hold the breath any longer. “Thank you.”

Spencer let out a soft, sad laugh, “Haven’t done that in a while.”

Chess gives you anxiety. You understand it. You can conceptualize it, and even play it. Well. But the bubbling in your stomach every time you witnessed a game — particually one where your eight year old son is playing — comes back to haunt you again and again. You don’t worry about Emerson, he can take care of himself. He’s like his father in that way, the game is in his blood. But the tension, the speed, the risk. It made your breath lodge in your chest, and every so often, you had to sigh to regain control.

The only thing that could pull you from that stress is Em. Emerson Derek Reid, the little half smile on his face when he wins a match. It makes the three hour tournaments worth it. Watching your boy play against college level students who have been playing all their lives. Yeah, so has he.

He jumps off stage in an excited state, rushing towards you with open arms. “You’re a tiger, kid!” You exclaim. “You killed it.”

“Thank you, thank you,” he shrugged. “It’s really my opponents’ fault, they wouldn’t know a queen from a rook if it was looking them in the face.”

“Ooh, cat fight.” E remarked, causing Em and you to laugh.

“Hey,” you said. “Since you’re both already out of school today . . . wanna play hookie?”

“Mom? I am shocked!” E gasped, trying hard to contain a laugh.

“Oh, c’mon, we never get to hang out anymore since you guys started these college classes and my business went up. I’m off work, you’re already out of class, let’s just do it. Let’s go shop and eat and hang out and I will write you guys an excuse for tomorrow, okay?” You rambled, putting your hands to their shoulders.

Em and E looked at each other, and after a minute, they looked up at you and nodded.

Your very, very favorite people on the whole planet.

You took them to the mall. Bought Em some new clothes, but he wasn’t really interested. You and E did most of the picking. He sat in the corner of the store reading and only participated to try on outfits you guys had picked out. You both squealed and told him how cute he looked, and he scrunched up his nose. Just like . . .

And then you bought E some shoes, some vans. There was a huge sell, and she fell in love with everything she tried on. And you fell in love with seeing her happy so you ran up a bill.

“Okay, which one of us is dying?” E said as you sat at lunch. Em bursted out laughing.

“Wha—neither of you! I just wanted to spoil you guys. You kill yourselves all week with school, even though it’s summer. And I never see you, that’s all.”

“Mhm,” Em hummed, an unconvinced look in his face as he eyed his sister. “I bet someone died.”

“Em!” You exclaimed, E’s laughter blending in. “God, you guys are morbid.”

“Our parents both worked in the FBI, we’re basically trained,” E giggled.

Just then, you got a call. Work. Fuck. You stood from the table and stepped outside, excusing yourself first.

“[y/n].”

“Can we close the Pickett case tonight?”

“Raven . . .”

“I don’t want that boy in that house for one more second. [y/n], I will send you more of my notes, but . . . read them, read them. You will understand. Please.”

You sighed, “I’ll be there at ten. If you are not there at ten . . . I’ll wait for you. Let’s do it.”

“Thank you! Thank you, thanks! Bye. Sorry. Bye.”

You took in a deep breath and shook your head.

Nothing was going to spoil your lunch. Not today.

The car ride home, the three of you vibed to music. Your kids knew every word to Fleetwood Mac’s discography and it was your greatest accomplishment. They even developed their own dance routine to Dreams when they were younger.

Your very, very favorite people on the whole planet.

You pulled up to your house, and as you approached the driveway, you saw a familiar car parked out front. Your stomach flipped, caved in, skipped, hopped, and jumped.

Words can’t even described what it did when you saw him.

Sitting on the porch swing.

“Dad?” Em exclaimed loudly in excitement. You parked in the driveway, eyeing Spencer the whole time.

“Dad?” E said quietly, confusion in her voice. “Did you—“ She directed at you, interrupted by her brother hopping out of the car.

Em ran up to Spencer, and his father scooped him up in a quick motion, spinning him around and kissing his head.

You let out a quick huff, turned to E and smiled, “C’mon, go say hi.”

You followed E out of the car, and watched as she tip toed towards Spencer. She suddenly skipped and jumped into Spencer’s arms.

“Hey, dad,” she said.

“Hey, kid!” He replied, before putting her on her feet. “Your hair is getting so long!”

“Yeah,” she twirled her hair and laughed. “What are you doing here!”

“I wanted to see you guys . . .” He turned to you. “And your mom, who’s quiet as a mouse.”

“Hello,” you shrugged, giving him a kind smile.

“Are you staying for today, dad?” Em asked, tucked under Spencer’s arm.

“I was actually hoping to stay until Sunday, if that’s okay with your mom, of course.”

Your very, very least favorite person on the whole planet.

“Please, mom? He can be here for my birthday!” E pipped.

Em. E. Em. E. Those big, pouty eyes of theirs staring you down. “You can stay in the guest room,” you told Spencer.

“Is that close to your bedroom?” Spencer smirked.

“Heh,” you huffed. “Don’t push it. You can stay upstairs.”

“Yes! C’mon, dad! I made a new model that I wanna show you!”

Later that night, you made the kids pasta. It was one of your finer cuisines, taught to you by an old friend, and they asked for it all the night, especially when they needed to study.

Spencer wandered into the kitchen after getting settled upstairs. “Woah! I thought we could go out for dinner, huh? My treat?”

“We would, dad,” Eden said. “But we both have tests tomorrow. Calculus and Physics. Maybe tomorrow.”

You set their plates down and looked up at Spencer. You walked over to him, eyeing him knowingly as you led him out of the kitchen.

“They’re nerds,” Spencer laughed.

“They’ve also both got an eidetic memory. It’s gonna take them all of three minutes to study, then they’ll be all over you again,” you told him, walking out onto the back patio.

Following you, Spencer closed the door behind him, isolating you two on the porch.

You sat down, plopped down, and looked up at him, “Why are you here?”

“Subtle.”

“Spencer.”

“I mean it, you should be a federal agent.”

“Spencer.”

He sighed heavily, “I have some things I want to . . . handle.”

“Here?” You asked.

“Yes,” he hesitated. “I haven’t been enough a part of the kids’ lives—“

You rolled yours eyes. Yeah, you knew that.

“I want to fix that, to have a real relationship with them.” He continued.

“You’ve always been able to,” you shrugged. “You get distracted.”

“Work,” he muttered.

“Always is.”

“And . . .” he whispered, his eyes flickering back and forth between you and the ground.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “And?”

“I — I want to fix my relationship with you.”

Huh.

“I want us to go to therapy.”

Huh.

“Wha—“ You stuttered, rising from your seat. “Spencer, what?”

“Not couples therapy. Nothing . . . romantic,” his voice cracked. “But we can’t keep acting so . . . poorly around the kids. They’re smart, they notice things. They always have.”

“Spencer, how are we gonna go to therapy? You’d need to dig up Freud himself and have him work on us full time.”

“I just think we need to talk,” he murmured. He stepped closer to you, breathing deeply as he towered over you. “Will you please just think about it?”

You stared him in the eye, let out a heavy exhale.

Spencer.

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reidxreader #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #mine #fl

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weasleyswizardpleases · 3 years

Text

Playing Nurse (3/4)

Summary: Fred Weasley keeps showing up in Hogwarts’ infirmary, where you apprentice when you’re not in class, but he quickly becomes more than just a patient to you.

Warnings/notes: Blood, dental injury, bruising, broken bones. Language, kissing, some nudity, coming out. Not super graphic but it takes place in the school infirmary so people’s injuries and illnesses are described. Trans masc!Fred x fem!reader.

You can find parts 1 and 2 in my masterlist

Tags: @lucymfer @accioweaslcy @manuosorioh

3. Lovesick

A few weeks go by before you see Fred again, other than glimpses in the great hall or the common room. You can’t seem to keep him off your mind, to the point that your friends have begun noticing you blushing when they speak his name.

Then, on a grey Saturday morning, George practically shoves Fred into the door of the infirmary, shouting ‘he’s gravely ill!’ before slamming the door. You look up skeptically as Fred makes his way over.

“What was that all about?” you ask, but he waves the question away.

“Don’t mind him, what are you up to?”

“Uh, I’m at work. Working. What are you up to?”

“I thought you might be able to help me with something,” he says slyly.

“Are you hurt?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that. You seem to have a good, er, bedside manner, charming and all, and I thought I might ask you for advice.”

“Is someone you know ill?” you ask curiously.

“No, not exactly. It’s more personal advice, actually,” he says, holding back a sheepish grin.

“Well, as it stands, I’ve only got ten minutes before my shift ends, so start talking, carrot top.” He stands up and paces with his hands behind his back as he talks.

“So,” he begins, taking a deep breath. “Well, first, can you keep a secret?” he asks. You nod. “I have feelings for someone. And I think she has feelings for me too. The way she looks at me, laughs at my jokes.” He looks at you goofily. “I’m not daft, you know, Y/N. I have an eye for these things.”

You blink back at him, unsure what he’s insinuating, afraid to assume.

“Anyway, there’s something this person doesn’t know about me. Something she might not like, or… it’s hard to explain. Not that I think she’d ever be mean, it’s just a secret is all. But also perhaps she doesn’t need to know yet, or she might not care at all, but maybe it’ll be weird to her or just… surprising, and, I don’t know,” he says. “It’s nothing bad!” he adds hurriedly. “Just different from what you might expect, is all. It’s sort of a… physical thing.”

“I think,” you say carefully, surprised to see him flustered and rambling like this, “that anyone would be absolutely mad to turn you down over something like that. I mean, what is it, a third nipple? Birthmark? Ass hair?” you laugh. “I’ve seen it all in here, and most people are way more self conscious than they have any right to be. Every body is different. If she gives you the shaft over a blemish or what have you, I say screw her. Although not literally!” you laugh awkwardly at your own joke. Fred stops pacing and sits down in the intake chair beside your desk.

“You think so?” he asks, gazing directly at you now.

“I really do. You’re a very handsome boy Fred, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” you say decidedly. At this point, it seems obvious to you that he must have a crush on someone else. You have to admit, it disappoints you, but you try to hide your sadness until he leaves.

“Oh, no need to say that,” he says, looking away.

“I’m only telling you the truth. You should talk to her,” you say. “Now shove off, I have to get some things done here before Pomfrey gets back.” You pat him on the shoulder as if to physically nudge him in the right direction, and he leaves, looking thoughtful.

You mope through the rest of your shift, wondering who he’s interested in that isn’t you. Of course, you didn’t expect that he had feelings for you, necessarily, but you had thought you detected some chemistry when he was here in the infirmary. He had even thrown a note to you during a house meeting and you’d bantered back and forth in secret. You suppose you just completely misinterpreted things. You’re so wrapped up in your own thoughts that you don’t even stop to think what Fred’s secret is, nor do you really care. You’re sure it’s no big deal. Maybe he has a wart in a funny place or something.

You gloomily collect your things and head off to tell your friends what’s transpired.

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satanwithboobs · 4 years

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scars | oikawa x reader

words: 904

genre: I’d say this is fluff? mostly self-indulgent trash but definitely fluff

a/n: I got this idea based off a really cute fluff I read a while back. It was something along the lines of someone (can’t remember the character) tracing their S/O’s scars and saying “who hurt you?” and then promising that no one will ever hurt them again. Super adorable, I know. WELL, thing is, that got me to thinking... most of my scars are just from accidents, and 99% of them have pretty funny (albeit stupid) stories to go along.

warnings: physical intimacy, implied nsfw before start of fic, implied nudity

Y/N sighed in contentment as her boyfriend wrapped his arms around her to pull her closer into his chest as he leaned his back on their headboard.

She let her eyes flutter closed for a moment as he began to trace circles into her skin, drifting a bit as she melted into his light touches.

She stayed in that position of quiet bliss for a moment before she felt her wrist being held and then pulled in a direction.

“Y/n?” Oikawa asked, and she could feel the slightest hint of his breath on her right hand as he held it up to himself.

A bit odd, but she was too comfortable to do anything about it.

“Hmm..?” she hummed in acknowledgement.

“I’ve never seen this scar before, what happened?” he asked curiously, and she furrowed her brow in response, opening her eyes and giving him a puzzled look.

“The one on my right hand?” he nodded, and she continued. “Oh, my first year of college, I sorta caught it on my dorm door,” she admitted, sheepishly turning her red face away when she heard him begin to chuckle.

“A door?” he asked. “I wasn’t expecting that...” he said, laughing at her admission way harder than she thought he would.

“Hey! Don’t make fun of—” she started, before starting to laugh herself. It was pretty funny, admittedly.

When they both settled down, he began tracing a few light birthmarks on her bare skin. “Have any other doors mortally wounded you?” He said, tossing a teasing smile her way.

She wasn’t going to hear the end of that anytime soon, and that she was sure of.

She gave him a look. “No,” she grumbled, unhappy at her boyfriend’s clear amusement at her misfortune. But her cold attitude melted when he kept his rubbing soft circles into her skin, soon letting out another sigh and once again letting herself get comfortable.

But, of course, that couldn’t last forever. Not when Oikawa Torū had found a weakspot he could exploit.

She knew he was now on a mission to tease her, his clumsy girlfriend, into oblivion.

“Oh? How about this one,” she opened her eyes again and let out a huff of irritation, turning her fiery gaze toward the annoying setter that she was trying to use as her pillow. “Don’t look at me like that! I just want to know more about my beloved Y/N!” he feigned innocence, but she wasn’t buying it.

Not when she could see the mischievous glint in his eyes.

She tried to pry her arm away from his grasp by twisting it, but he wasn’t budging. She rolled her eyes. “Those two were when I accidentally stabbed myself with a pair of tweezers,” and admitted.

His eyes widened for a moment before he once again burst into laughter. “How do you even do that?” He asked, doubling over as he continued laughing at her.

Now impromptu pillow-less, she shifted to a sitting position, facing the athlete still having a laughing fit with an angry look on her face.

“I’m clumsy, okay?” She defended herself, crossing her arms. “It isn’t my fault I’m not some world-class athlete who has apparently never done anything stupid in his life!”

He settled down quick, his gaze softening when he saw a pink tint to Y/N’s puffed out cheeks. “You’re a little more than just clumsy, you’ve got to admit that.” When he was simply met with an eye roll, he chuckled, scooting closer to her.

“My love, you’re a beautiful mess, and I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said, his hands coming up to cradle her blushed face. A smile crept on his face as he noticed her frown was softening.

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead for a moment before leaning down to kiss her lips.

“I’m still mad at you for laughing at me,” she said after they pulled away from each other. “You can’t talk your way out of this one so easy, Torū.”

He raised a brow, giving her a look that just screamed, you wanna bet?

She rolled her eyes once again, before moving her way off their bed and toward the bathroom.

“You’re just full of surprises today, Y/N!” She stopped in her tracks, slowly moving to turn around so she could meet his gaze.

If looks could kill, Argentina’s national men’s volleyball team would need to find a new setter.

“What?” she asked, her tone low and her eyes just begging him to try something.

“What’s this one from?” He asks, leaning forward a bit, a slender finger tracing a long scar on the back of her thigh. His eyes once again gleaming with mischief.

She huffs and raises her hand to smack him upside the head, but he catches her wrist. He uses her surprise to tug gently on her arm, wrapping his arms around her form tightly.

“Torū, let go!” she squirmed, getting nowhere.

“Tell me where you got that scar and I will!” He teased.

“You’re so unfair!” She sighed in exasperation, giving up. “Fine. I’ll tell you.”

He waited for a moment, eyes looking down at her flushed face and embarrassed expression.

“A dentist chair.”

His initial shock let her slip from his grasp before he began howling in laughter.

“I really hate you, you know that?” she growled, walking away.

“I love you too, Y/N!” Shouted after her, still laughing.

#oikawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #oikawa toru #oikawa fluff #; drabble #picked oikawa bc he’s beautiful but also 100% would laugh at you until you got angry

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you-are-crazy-beautiful · 3 years

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What is something that you'd like to see on the next seasons? What were your Top 5 scenes and/or dialogues? Who's your favorite character? Why? What's the character you relate to the most? What's your favorite friendship dynamic? What are some of your headcanons for Kieutou? Cashqueens? Instas? Maybe a mix between all three? You don't have to answer all of these questions, you can pick the ones you want to answer to aldhs

Anon, I f*cking love you! 💛😂 These questions are all amazing, so I will answer them all. I'll make separate posts for them 😉

Top 5 scenes:

1. NYE clip 2

I absolutely love the clip itself, but I also remember all the emotions that I felt the 1st time, and they come back everytime I watch it! When the music fades out when Kieu My bumps into Fatou when they're dancing, my heart nearly came out my chest it was beating so hard!😲 The first time Kieu My spoke and was revealed as a Space nerd on screen! Kieu My once again being vulnerable and sharing her dreams while being shy and avoiding eye contact. While Fatou does that signature look with the head tilt🥰 Kieu My calling Fatou 'butch' by mistake😂. The production of the blow torch (I still have so many questions...😅), the hand holding. Kieu My's reaction to the gum in her hair. I got such a fright when they kissed that I screamed out loud! Fatou looking up to space afterwards and the shot of the moon 👌

2. Museum date. I have to. This is one of the best clips of all time. Although, no.2 and no.3 are interchangeable for me. The cute awkwardness at the beginning. The tango under the blue lighting while the audio is talking about young galaxies colliding. The blue and red galaxies colliding when they kiss symbolizing the Ice queen and the warmest person. Kieu My opening up about her different fears and dreams. The bonding over being 3rd generation immigrants. The song and them just messing around! Lieu My saying she likes the person standing in front of her in Vietnamese. The dance and twirl into the kiss paralleling moments in S5. The freaking birthmark throwback!!! I will never be over it! I burst out crying and it was during this I truly realised they were like no other couple before! ❤

3. The reunion/ R+J clip. My galaxy brain predicting this as soon as Mailin posted the IG content of the axolotl 😂

The song 😭 I don't think I've seen a more beautiful clip! The direction of Fatou hiding when she heard Kieu My enter, Kieu My looking at the fish though the hole in the coral and then meeting Fatou's gaze. The vulnerability that Kieu My displays when she looks down avoiding Fatou's gaze and when she looks up, Fatou is just staring at her with confidence and gives a smile and the nod. She's finally secure after her dyscalculia diagnosis and so sure of her and Kieu My. Again, the blue lighting!👌 The line 'love when you laugh because then I see you and how much love there is inside you' is my favourite line in Skam history. The 360 shot of them and running past where they were 1st clip of the season. The happiness and laughter, the explicit consent, the way the sex scene was handled. The whole thing was just stunning!!

4. Gay silence. This clip has it all, tension, cuteness, vulnerable Kieu My. Imo, Kieu My knows she has a thing for Fatou but didn't realise it was that serious until this moment. She knew exactly what she was doing. My girl totally tried to Fingersmith Fatou 😂 I love how Kieu My shares her insecurity about talking to girls, and Fatou's reaction 😂 She's like 'this is the best moment of my life'. The playful Zombie bit, joking about stereotypes, Fatou reassuring Kieu My when she's sees Kieu My feels insecure about her nails💞 The camera panning to Kieu My when Fatou says about 'just kiss her already' showing that's what Kieu My is thinking 💀The staring, especially the Peter Pan moment when Kieu My is staring intensely and when Fatou turns to look at her, she quickly turns to the tv😆 Kieu My asking 'purely hypothetically' who would Fatou date out of their friends, hoping Fatou would say her. Then the annoyed look she gives Fatou at the end because she thinks Fatou doesn't want to date her and she shakes her head, and angrily takes popcorn. While Fatou is avoiding eye contact and you can see her realising her mistake 😂 Idiots!

5. Tie between dyscalculia diagnosis and it's a match!

I love the dyscalculia test clip so much!! The way it's shot is again beautiful with Fatou using the different counters. It didn't just rush into the dialogue. Fatou being cute and nearly getting the right answers by using really complicated tricks 🤗 Sira's acting when he said she had it, and the tears just filled her eyes with relief, realising that's why she has struggled. The alarm bit when she said she thought she was stupid killed me!! 😂🤣 Nora and Mailin being there with vanilla fries and Fatou smiling and saying she's not stupid. It brings me so much happiness that clip 💛

It's a match being dropped at midnight unexpectedly. The way Fatou stops breathing when Kieu My's profile comes up. Kieu My swiping right first! And Fatou caressing her phone with happiness and relief that her instinct has been right! Kieu My messaging 5 seconds later. Bringing back the comment about the guys with pets, and Fatou having to slap herself and squeal into her duvet (same!❤) Them just being the nerds they are and coming up with Axolotlgirl and Zombiewoman. They talked for 11hrs!!! I actually think this was one of the smartest decisions I've seen in Skamverse. That one interaction, which Kieu My wasn't even physically in, expanded upon their connection, and for me that's the moment they really fell head over heels for each other into deep feelings territory. Especially with them having to keep the eps shorten than S5, it was such a clever decision 👏👏

Thank you so much for your questions!! I will look forward to answering the rest tomorrow 💛

#druck

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carryon117 · 2 years

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Chapter One:

I sigh in disappointment as yet another rejection email fills my screen. I thought that once I had gotten my second PhD that the job offers would come flooding into my inbox. However, no such luck. I close the laptop screen and gently rub the raised birthmark on my inner wrist. An anxious habit I had formed early in life that I cannot seem to let go of, nor do I particularly want to. I stare at the ceiling and contemplate my next moves. Obviously I need a job, living in the city is quickly depleting the little that I had stored away in my savings. If I can’t find a job in my field, anything would have to do until then. I rub the sleep from my eyes and glance around the sparse apartment that I currently call home. A simple couch and table in the corner, both salvaged from the street corner before the trash collector could take them away. On the other side of the room was a sink with a small refrigerator and stove top oven with enough counter space for either a microwave or dish. I had chosen to put the microwave on top of the stove, not like I had the money to be cooking anyways. I continue the lazy circle around the room eyeing the bare off white walls of the apartment. They always seem to taunt me, ‘Where are your pictures of family and friends?’ At that thought I sink a bit further into my threadbare couch and glance at my phone.

10:48 PM

0 Notifications

I lock the screen and open my laptop again. The melancholy feeling creeps over me at the sight of the email once more. The rejection stinging anew through my mind. I close out of my email and open a tab for a new webpage. I click the bookmark to ‘Disney+’ and select the first Captain America movie, content to rewatch the timeline from the beginning. The opening fanfare surrounds me in a comfort that I don’t experience much. Since the loss of my family I have been alone. Well, as alone as someone can be while obsessed with fictional characters. My eyes begin to drop as the movie comes to a close as the next begins, the familiar music lulls me to sleep once again.

When I open my eyes once again it is still dark outside. The soft glow from the laptop is stagnant as a generic screensaver of rolling hills takes over the screen. I glance at my phone,

10:48 PM

No Service

‘Did I really sleep for 24 hours?’ I ask myself with a confused grumble. I sit up and crack my neck, getting all the kinks out. As I stretch my stomach growls angrily at me. ‘How long was I asleep? When was the last time I ate something?’ Shuffling from the second hand couch to the closet I throw on a black hoodie, careful that the sleeves are long enough to cover the mark on my wrist. I slip on my sneakers, determined to lift my spirits a bit with some greasy food from the 24 hour diner down the block from my building. I pat my pockets to find my wallet and keys and step out the door. I lock the door behind me and shuffle down the stairs and into the crisp night time air. Turning left with eyes-downcast to continue my shame and self-hatred spiral, I shuffle in the direction of the diner at the end of the block. No sooner do I leave the safety of the light from the front of my apartment building do I hear a sneer,

“Lookie here, I think we found a new toy to play with.” My eyes widen as I glance around me, sight landing on a group of three gruff looking guys with their predatory gazes locked on me. My heartbeat picks up as I glance around trying to figure out if I will be able to run away, or if anyone is nearby to hear a call for help. My panic is reaching a crescendo as I start to back away from them, keeping my eyes fixated on them rather than paying attention to where my feet are taking me. I can only concentrate on getting away, and hopefully in one piece. As I shuffle away from them my breath begins to come in short gasps as my back collides with a solid wall and a whimper of fear escapes from my lips. The leader of the three chuckles at my predicament and moves closer with his goons following close behind him. He reaches out and grabs my hair, I flinch and move to try and get away.

“Don’t run away sweetheart, we’ve only just begun.”

He slaps me across the face which sends me flying towards his goons. I shriek whether in pain or panic, I don’t know at this point, and throw my hands in front of me for some semblance of protection. For a split second, nothing happens. But then a sharp pressure begins to build behind my eyes and the leader of the goons is thrown off his feet and lands with a crash in a nearby dumpster. My vision begins to darken along the edges as the true terror sets in with the looks of hatred on the other two faces. As they begin to approach, I throw my hands up again, praying that it would happen again. I hear before I see a heavy thunk of metal before both the men disappear from my eyesight. I can see a brief reflection of a street light on metal before I begin to sway before collapsing to the cold concrete.

My vision and consciousness continue to ebb away as I register a somewhat familiar looking face in my field of vision. I hear some brief mumbling followed by voice stating,

“Vitals stable but it seems she is going into shock sir”

And everything fades to black.

#marvel #marvel fanfic writer #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #avengers #reader insert #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3fic #ao3 writer

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thewildomega · 3 years

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Star in the Sand Ch.9

THUMP!

Snapping your eyes open you looked in front of you and saw the wood siding of the boat. Blinking a few times you forced your tired body up into a sitting position, wincing a little at the soreness of your body. It was still dark out but you could make out the light from the coming sunrise. Looking around you saw nothing but the endless sea until you looked behind you and saw what your little boat had bumped into. Swallowing even though there was little to no moisture in your mouth you looked at the lone man with yellow eyes. "Hello." you said in a soft voice, hoarse from having nothing to drink for the past day and a half. When he said nothing you looked down to see your boat still touching his slightly bigger one. "I'm sorry." you mumbled. Grabbing the little oar you went to row away from him.

"Not very wise for you to be out here on your own with no provisions." Mihawk said in a plain voice. When her eyes stayed down he looked her over. She was already showing signs of dehydration, she wouldn't last another day out here. "Where are you headed?" he asked the woman.

Looking back up at the warlord you took a small breath. "Anywhere I suppose."

Humming he reached beside him and grabbed one of his many flasks of water before holding it out for her.

Looking down at the flask you furrowed your brows and looked back up at him. "I don't have anything to give you in return." you said, shaking your head.

"Your name will do."

Seeing he was serious you licked your lips, "Y/n."

"Well then Miss y/n, it is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Dracula Mihawk." he said with a bow of his head.

Forcing yourself to grin you bowed your head back and took the water when he pushed it towards you, "Thank you." you said before taking a long sip, feeling it burn your dry throat slightly. Sighing you looked down at your lap, taking another sip before putting the cork back in the top and handing it back to him.

"No you keep it, you will need it. he told her.

"Thank you."

Humming he nodded and then looked to the left. "If you keep heading that way you will reach an island by the end of the day. It isn't the best place but it's somewhere." he told her.

Nodding you looked to where he was looking and then back to him just in time to see him toss you an apple. Catching it you looked back up to him and saw him give you a blank look. "Thank you." With a nod the man was gone. Biting down on the apple you chewed it slowly, you should be relishing the first food you had had in days but it was tasteless in your mouth. Letting out a sigh you looked towards the direction Mihawk had told you an island was in. You knew from the manga that Grand line formidable place, in actuality you were lucky to still be alive right as it is. Last night had been a rough night, a thunderstorm had struck suddenly and you had curled up in the bottom of the boat to shield yourself from the needle like rain and the sharp lightning. At one point you had been sure your small boat would flip over and dump you to the sea kings but you had managed to stay afloat. Finishing you apple you bit your lip and unzipped your bag to pull out your sketchbook. Ripping a page out you placed the seeds in the middle before folding it up and pouring a small amount of water on it to dampen it. Placing it one of the smaller pockets in your bag you put your sketch book back up and grabbed the oar. You didn't really know what you were going to do but you knew you needed to get to land soon.

................................

It was late when you got to the island and the sun was going down. Your arms were sore and you were extremely tired. Forcing yourself to pull the boat onto the sandy shore you breathed heavily and finally dropped back to sit in the sand. Leaning against the boat you stayed there for a moment and let your eyes slip closed. You were close to drifting off when you felt the patter of rain start hitting your back and shoulders. Blinking your eyes open you looked up at the sky and saw a flash of lightning. Standing up and grabbing the boat again you tugged it further up onto shore almost to the rocks and then struggled to flip it over. Dropping to your knees you started digging away the sand and dirt to make a tunnel big enough for you to crawl under it. Wiggling your way under the boat you felt around for a few big rocks and placed them over the 'door' till only a small air hole was left. Grabbing your bag you moved it to the front and laid down, placing your head on it and curling up on the cold ground. The rain was now beating against the boat so loud it sounded like hail and you bit your lip as the lightning and thunder boomed outside. A rumble of the earth and a close strike made you whimper and tense more if it were possible. Feeling a tear roll over the bridge of your nose you closed your eyes and tried to imagine you were at home, in your own bed. Not even that seemed comforting anymore through. You didn't want to go back to your empty house with only memories to keep you company. You knew what you wanted but it would never be a reality. With a broken heart you finally drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

.................................

Waking up the next day you stared at the tiny bit of sunlight coming in from the little hole you had left. You were still tired, your body running on fumes. The clenching of your empty stomach told you you needed food even though you didn't particularly care to eat. Sighing you dug the hole back out and pushed out your bag before crawling out yourself. Blinking as your eyes adjusted to the light you looked around at the island you had washed up on and saw it was a very rocky landscape. There were trees and grass as well but a lot of rocks. Glancing back down to your boat you decided to leave it there, might need to use it as shelter again tonight. Attempting to stretch out the stiffness in your body you let out a heavy breath and grabbed your bag. Unzipping it you took the water out and finished the last sip off. That was definitely your first thing to do. Tossing the empty flask back in your bag you zipped it up and put it on your back.

Exploring the island you were able to find a source of freshwater and drunk a fair amount before filling up your flask and putting it in your bag for later. Unfortunately you weren't able to find any food, not even any berries or fruit but lucky for you you had watched tons of survival documentaries. Grabbing stuff to make a fire you took it back to where your boat was, dragging the boat all the way up to the rocks to set up your camp. Sitting down on the ground you grabbed your pocket knife and the long stick you had found to make a spear out of. Sharpening the tip and cutting small notches in the first foot of it you nodded, "Thank you Les Stroud." you mumbled before taking off your jacket, shirt, shoes and socks. Rolling up your pants legs you grabbed your stick and walked out to the water. Jumping across the rocks you looked down and saw a few fish swimming around in the water below. Taking a deep breath you aimed the spear before stabbing it into the water.

So catching a fish is a whole lot harder than it looks. After three hours you hand managed to catch one lousy fish that was only the size of your hand, but it was something. Cooking it over the small fire you made you looked out over the sea and felt a clenching in your heart. You wondered if he missed you. No he didn't want you there to begin with. Swallowing hard you dropped your eyes down, taking the last bite of the fish. Looking down your shirt you saw your locket laying over top of your birthmark and lifted it in your hand before opening it. Looking over the picture of the man and woman you felt tears brim your eyes. Reading the words you licked your lips, "My heart will guide me huh? To what?" you asked the air. Watching the arrow spin around before finally pointing out in front of you you huffed and snapped it shut. "Yeah that's what I thought."

By the end of the day you had a nice fire going and had bathed to the best of your ability. You had seen a small village on the other side of the island but it looked very rundown and sketchy so you decided to possibly check it out tomorrow when there was more light. Yawning you crawled under the boat to sleep, having dug a nice tunnel earlier. Curling up you breathed out deeply and closed your eyes.

................................

People were starring at you. This place didn't feel safe. You didn't see any children running around, there was no laughter or smiles. Glancing up out of the corner of your eye you saw as a group of people looked at you with knitted brows, they were whispering. Swallowing you dipped your head and adjusted your bag before going up to the only stand. "Um excuse me..."

"What is it?" the woman snapped.

Flinching a bit you furrowed your brows and licked your lips, "Well I was wondering if there was anything I coudl do to possibly pay for some food..."

"Unless you have money or something valuable to trade get lost. I don't give hand outs."

Looking down you nodded and mumbled a thank you before walking away. Making your way through the forest and rocks you again tried looking for some sort of food. Looking up to one of the tree tops you tilted your head. Were those coconuts? Dropping your bag you removed your shoes and socks. Grabbing hold of the tree you started to climb. Gritting yoru teeth as you slipped back down again you dug your foot into the bark, holding onto the tree as tight as you could. Slowly but surly you managed to climb your way up to the top of the tree. Hugging it with your legs and one arm you reached out with the other to try and knock down one of the coconuts. Swatting a few times, your fingers just did brush it. Wiggling up more you hit the fruit one last time and let out a small cheer as it fell to the ground. Slidding back down carefully you walked over to lift the fruit when a boot clad foot smacked down on top of it. Looking up the brown pants leg and then torso you saw one of the men from the village standing there looking down at you with a grin. "Excuse me..." you said, trying to pull the coconut out from under his shoe.

"Now what you doing stealing our coconuts girly?"

Furrowing your brows you shook your head. "I.. I'm not stealing... I dind't know the trees belonged to anyone.."

"Well they do. This here is our island which makes the trees and all else here ours as well." he told the woman, bending down to pick up the coconut and toss it behind him.

Following the coconut as he threw it back to one of his three friends to catch you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Straightening back up you looked back to what you guessed was the leader. "I'm sorry for taking the coconut, I was just looking for some food but I am just going to go now." you said, turning around to grab your bag and shoes.

Smiling he grabbed the woman's bag before she could. "Now sweetheart if you got something to trade then maybe we'll just let you have that coconut."

Shaking your head you reached for your bag and tried pulling it out of hsi grasp. "I don't so you can just keep it." you told him.

Humming he held tight to the bag and grinned at her, "Well maybe there is something else you can give me."

Understanding what he meant you grit your teeth, "Not a chance in hell." Snatching your bag back you put it on your back and turned to walk away again.

Growling he grabbed her wrist to stop her, pinning her to a tree. "Now don't be so rude girl. You see I was just trying to be a gentleman and ask is all. Don't have to though, I meant what I said, everything on this island is ours... that means you as well."

Gasping a bit you felt fear fill you and quickly brought up knee. As soon as he was doubled over in pain you ran for it. You could hear him cursing and yelling behind you but you didn't stop. You had to get off this island. Running towards your boat you were suddenly knocked backwards as something hit your chest. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry and you gasped for air. It felt like you couldn't breath. Rolling to your side you managed to suck in some air and opened your eyes when you heard the sound of sticks breaking. Looking up you saw a man standing there with a club looking thing, smiling.

"Got er' boss." he said.

Blinking you heard boots on the rocks and turned your head a small amount to see the man from earlier standing over you.

"You are going to regret not taking my offer girl." he huffed.

Seeing his foot come towards your face you felt a pain on your cheek before everything went fuzzy.

"Grab her."

You could feel rough hands lifting you up from the ground and huffed out as you were flung over someone's shoulder. Not being able to fight back you felt your bag get ripped from your arms. Blinking slowly you watched the trees and rocks move by in a blur. It felt like you couldn't get enough air still and your head was throbbing. They were saying something but you didn't catch any of it. When you were finally tossed down you whimpered and looked around to see you were in some sort of room. There was a fire going and you could hear muffled voices. Seeing a window on the far wall you tried to plan out your escape.

"Now let's see what we have here."

Seeing them unzip your bag and dump out your few things you knit your brows.

Looking down at the hygiene products, flask and sketchbook he felt his lip lift into a snarl.

"That's it?"

"Where's the money?"

"Where's the treasure?"

"I told you I didn't have anything!" you scoffed, trying to sit up.

Picking up the sketchpad he flipped through it, hoping some hidden money would fall out but there was nothing. Growling he stomped over to the woman and grabbed a fistful of her hair. "That can't be all you got? Where's the money?"

Wincing as his hand in your hair tightened you looked up into his brown eyes. "I don't have any you piece of shit!"

Clenching his teeth he slapped her before he moved to start patting her down. Tossing down the knife in her back pocket.

When his hand felt around your chest and over your locket you tensed."NO! Let me go!" you yelled, wiggling about. Punching at him you managed to get one good hit in before he slammed you back down on the ground and straddled your middle.

"Give me some rope!" Being handed the thin rope he held her hands in one of his while he wrapped it tightly around her thin wrists, pulling it tight and tying it off. Holding her hands down above her head he grinned down at her as she still fought against him. "You sure are a feisty one ain't you." he chuckled.

Glaring up at him you spit in his face. Seeing him still and watching the smirk fall from his face you knew you had made a horrible mistake.

Standing above her he wiped the spit from his eye and glared down at her. "I am going to enjoy breaking you in." he snarled, snatching his belt from the loops and folding it in half.

Seeing the man grab the leather belt in one hand and raise it over his head you started to tremble, your past coming back to haunt you, a cry leaving your lips as it stung your side and back.

.......................

Flinching as a glass bottle was thrown into the wall beside you you opened your eyes and looked to the group of people currently drinking and talking away by the fire. Blinking your eyes you looked back to the window and saw the sky was now dark, the moon and stars out. How long had you been here? Feeling eyes on you you looked back to the leader to see him looking towards you with a smirk, your locket hanging around his neck.

"Ya'll go get us some more booze, I'ma go tend to our pet." he said.

Stiffening you watched them all glance to you as they stood, some of them laughing as they walked out, smacking the leader on the back.

"Don't ruin her boss."

Swallowing hard you watched them all leave you alone with the man and saw him continue looking at you for a time, the both of you just sitting in silence as he drank his bottle of rum. When he stood and started walking over to you you tensed up and again tried pulling at the ropes around your wrist, feeling them rub your skin raw even more.

Sitting down beside her he let his eyes rake over her body. Looking to her lips he rose his brow and moved the bottle to them. "Drink."

Keeping your lips pinched together you tried turning your face away from him but he quickly grabbed your jaw and squeezed, forcing your mouth open enough to pour in the strong alcohol. Coughing you felt it spill down the side of your face, burning the cuts and scrapes that were there.

Chuckling he sat the bottle down to move his hands down her neck. Gripping the neckline of her shirt he tugged hard, ripping the material almost in half.

You wanted to cry. Trying to curl up he held you down and you felt his hand move to your breast, groping your mound painfully.

"Huh...interesting soulmate mark you got there? Is he some kind of clock maker?" he chuckled.

Not understanding what he was talking about you tried pushing his hand away with your bound ones. When he took out a knife and started running it along your chest and over the mark between your breasts you felt the tears roll down your temples and closed your eyes tight.

"Aww don't cry yet beautiful, we're just getting started." he chuckled, dragging the blade over her skin to leave a trail of blood.

When he leaned down to pushing his lips to yours you felt something wet proud at your lips your eyes went wide as it pushed it's way inside, his hand attempting to push into your pants. This was your chance. Biting down on his tongue you heard him scream but you only bit harder. A sharp pain to your chest made you release him.

Falling to his back he covered his mouth with his hand, blood pouring down his chin. "YOU FUCKING BITCH!" he yelled.

Pushing your self up you stumbled on your feet, running towards the window and feeling the broken glass get embedded in your feet. Jumping through the window you rolled to the ground, your adrenaline making you able to forget about the pain radiating through your body. Running towards the trees you heard him yelling behind you and then the sound of a gun filled the air and you fell to the ground. Screaming at the burning pain in your shoulder you panted and rolled down the rocks. Once you stopped you looked up at the sky for a few seconds. You could hear yelling, they were coming. Shaking you stood and pushed yourself forward, knowing you wouldn't get another chance if they found you. You fell and tripped on the rocks and roots, your battered body feeling like it was ready to give out any second. As the voices drew closer you looked around frantically. Seeing a dark hole in the rocks you moved towards it and dropped to your knees before squeezing inside. Going in as deep as you could you curled up and held your breath when the voices and heavy footfalls ran by. Watching their shadows run by you felt tears roll down your cheeks.

Sliding down the wall of your little crave you curled up and started to shake as your adrenaline started to fade. Laying your head down on the ground you bit your lip to muffle your sobs. Everything hurt, your whole body was throbbing and you could feel blood soaking into your clothes. What were you going to do now? Were you going to die? Wouldn't surprise you if this was how it ended. Your life had been nothing but shit up to this point anyway. The only good thing you had happen to you was Crocodile and even that had ended in heartbreak. In all honesty if this was it you wouldn't really care. There was nothing else for you to live for. You had no home, no family, no friends. None would miss you, no one would even notice you were gone. Hell if word somehow got to Crocodile he would probably be happy, he'd probably laugh. Feeling a clenching in your heart you closed your eyes and brought your bound hands to your chest. "p..please just l..let it be quick.."you whispered as you started to loose consciousness, hoping whatever higher power there was would have mercy on you, just this once.

..................................

He had already searched two islands now and she wasn't on either. The dark thought that she had fallen victim to the sea crossed his mind occasionally but he quickly tossed it out. No she was not dead, she was alive, he could feel it. He refused to believe she was gone. But there was something in his chest, some heavy pressure making him feel like something was wrong. Arriving on the run down island he stepped off the boat and looked down the rocky shore. It was just past dusk and he could see lights from the small run down village. Narrowing his eyes he looked to his men and nodded. They knew the drill, search for any signs of his missing soulmate. Puffing on his cigar he started walking towards the village, looking over the people he saw them all looking at him warily. Going up to a woman at the only stall he could see he took out y/n's phone and showed her the picture of the two of them she had taken, ignoring the woman's confused look at the device. "Have you seen this woman?" he asked.

"No." the woman said, barely glancing at the picture.

She was lying. Narrowing his eyes he went to go say something when Dori came hurrying over to him.

"We found the boat Captain." the young man said.

Looking down at him he raised his brow, "Where?"

"South side of the island sir, looks lik..."

"What exactly you lot here for?"

Turning at the sound of another man he looked to see a brown haired man looking up at him with his arms crossed over his chest. Opening his mouth to speak his eyes caught sought of something gold around the man's neck and felt his temper flare, his teeth biting down on his cigar. In an instant he had his hand wrapped around the man's throat.

"What the fuck man!"

Ignoring him he lifted the necklace with the curve of his hook, not caring when it cut open the his chest. Lifting it up he saw it was y/n's locket and felt his lip lift into a snarl, his brows dropping to glare at the man. Now looking him over he saw blood on his shirt collar and bruises along his jaw. "Where is she?" he growled.

"I don't know who the hell you are..."

"I am not a man you want to test. Now where is she?!" Seeing the man stay silent he dug the tip of his hook into the man's shoulder, watching him scream.

"CAPTAIN!"

Snapping his eyes up he saw Hex standing in the doorway of a run down looking barn. Tossing the man to Bonez he walked towards the doorway and looked inside. Not much filled the space, a few chairs around a fire pit and old, broken bottle of what looked like sake. None of that caught his attention, his eyes fell to the black bag laying on the floor and it's contents stowed about. A small pocket knife he knew was hers, the one Vick had given her. Her sketchbook was laying on the dirty floor, some of the pages torn out. Walking over to one he bent down and lifted it up to see a drawing of him. He was lounged back in the small canoe of hers, a butterfly on his hook. He had knew she was drawing when they had went out that day but he didn't know she had drawn him. He looked relaxed with the cigar in his mouth and his eyes closed. There was even the small amount of scruff on his jaw from where he hadn't shaved. Swallowing hard at the amount of detail she had put int he picture he then felt his blood boil. Turning back he held out the drawing to Maverick as the man went about picking up her things, placing them back in her bag. Walking over to the man he looked him in the eye. "Where. Is. She?"

"The bitch ain't here! She took off!" he said defensively before he let out a choked gasp, looking down to see the man's hook disappear into his gut.

Pulling his hook up slowly he heard the man scream and narrowed his eyes before he pulled it out. Looking to Bonez he took a breath, "Keep him alive. Take whatever you find." was all he said and saw his second nod. Glancing to the broken glass on the floor he noticed small bloody footprints leading to a broken window and pushed his way past to the door. Walking around to the side of the barn he looked down and broken glass in the grass. Looking up to the forest and rocks he felt his heart beat rise and his feet move for him. He could hear the sounds of his crew pillaging the village but it was simply music to his ears. Walking through the trees and tall grass he noticed blood along the rocks. A small stream ran along the rocky ground and on the other side the blood trail disappeared. Snapping his eyes around he looked down a small cliff hill and saw a little hole of sorts. It was small but so was she. Climbing down he got down on his knees and looked into the cave. It was dark so he couldn't see much and grit his teeth before he remembered the flashlight y/n had shown him her phone had. Fishing the thing out of his pocket he turned the light on and then bent over to shine it into the hole and what he saw made his blood run cold.

His cigar fell from his mouth in a gasp. "Y/n." he called but she didn't move. Se was facing away from him, her small body curled up in the back of the cave with her blood puddled on the rocky floor. "Y/n!" He called again, his voice coming out louder and deeper. Attempting to reach her his fingers just barely brushed her back. Growling out in frustration he used his devil powers to push sand under her slowly and then move her towards him enough so he could reach in and pull her out. When he finally had her out he looked down at her and felt a knot form in his throat. Brushing her blood matted hair our of her face he saw the dark bruises and gash on her cheek. They had beat her, badly. His breathing was erratic as he gently moved the curve of his hook to her chest, flipping back her ripped shirt and looking down at her blood spattered skin and seeing the dark soulmate mark directly over her breastbone just like the witch had said. Although it looked like someone had cut her over it he saw it looked like a sand glass. Licking his lips he lifted his eyes up her body, looking over her collarbone and then throat. Bending down over her he listened to her shallow breathing and felt a flood of relief wash over him, she was alive...for now. That could easily change though, she had lost a lot of blood. She need held and she need it now. Laying her over his lap long enough for him to shrug his coat from his shoulders he wrapped her in it to the best of his ability and then carefully moved his hook under her upper back and his hand under her knees. Lifting her easily into his arms he stood and held her tightly to his chest before walking to the village.

Getting on board his ship he carried her straight to his room, laying her on his bed and not caring at all for the blood seeping into his bedding, he could feel it on his clothes. He wanted to massacre the whole village, he wanted to make that piece of shit pay for what he had done to her but he couldn't bare to leave her side again. Ripping her mother's locket from his neck he looked him dead in the eyes as he told Bonez to take care of it, walking away and adding the command for him to drag it out. He had yet to acquire a doctor on his crew and he was quickly regretting that decision. He knew a basic amount of medical skills but nothing compared to what she needed. Having the lights from his oil lamps and candles he could see just how bad her injuries were, not even mentioning what her bloody clothes were hiding. She hadn't made a sound the whole time and the feel of her clammy skin made him uneasy. As soon as the crew was back and had loaded all they had acquired he left Daz in charge of commanding the deck. Hearing a knock at the door he growled. "WHAT?!" Looking up he saw Maverick there and knit his brows.

"I ain't no doctor but my father was, I may be able ta elp' the lass." he said.

Nodding stiffly he saw the man walk in, towels and a few bottles of alcohol in his hands. Looking back down to her he felt a painful clenching in his heart, "Don't give up on me darling." he said in his head.

#Sir Crocodile #sir crocodile x reader #one piece crocodile #crocodile fanfiction #crocodile x reader #one piece #One Piece Fanfiction #soulmate #soulmarks #soulmate au #angst

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henry-cavill-baby · 4 years

Text

Mark of the Witcher ┃ 1

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Original Female Character

Warnings: Little Violence

Length: 3k~

Summary: It was legend amongst the Witcher’s of Kaer Morhen, and not one had donned such a thing for centuries. Some thought it had come from the Conjunction of the Spheres, or perhaps a cruel sorceress out to end the Witcher line.

Unfortunately, Geralt dons the Mark on his left shoulder, and for only when the first born of Pavetta enters the world, does it begin to all make sense. He doesn’t really understand what it means, or really know where his destiny lies, but with Jaskier at his side, he will find the girl who lies within the Cintran walls and is meant to be his.

And not even Queen Calanthe can stop him… right?

Through the halls of the Cintran Castle, Pavetta wailed as though she were dying, and in truth, that is how she felt.

They had all known this day would come to pass, that the child would have to be born, but as Duny paced outside his wife’s chambers, biting the quick of his nails, he did not think he could bear it for one moment more.

It seemed as though the entire castle and its people were put on hold; those outside pressing their ears to the walls, wanting to hear the first cry of the new child.

Calanthe, the Queen of Cintra, gripped her daughter’s hand. “Push, my sweet. Bring my granddaughter to this world.”

But sweat continued to pour down Pavetta’s face, her tears staining the silken sheets below. I want my husband, please, bring me Duny.

She’d wept her pleas, but they went ignored. Men were not welcome during birth, and this time would be no different.

When another painful feeling went through Pavetta, she screamed, and her cries shattered the bedroom walls. The nurse patted a damp rag on her clammy skin, but it did little to help. She felt as though she were being torn apart from the inside, her organs and intestines ready to slip out with the child.

“You’re close,” Calanthe insisted. “Just a little longer.”

But Pavetta squirmed against the soft sheets on the feathered bed, whimpering, “I—can’t. It hurts—I can’t.”

The Queen gripped her daughter’s hand, “You can, Pavetta. You’re almost there, just push, darling, keep pushing.”

After what seemed like an eternity, Pavetta gave one last push followed by a weak cry, echoing her child’s fierce wail. My child, she looked between her legs at the nurse cleaning off her baby, my sweet Aleira.

The small pruned child wept for her mother’s arms, and Pavetta was all too ready to accept her to her breast but the pain of birth ceased her consciousness, and the handmaiden worked to clean off the unconscious woman—wiping away the sweat and tears of birth, but saving the placenta for later consumption.

It would no doubt be baked into a sweet meat pie for Pavetta’s first meal as a mother.

One of the handmaids gingerly cleaned off the child of muck and gunk, bundling her up in a fresh blanket and carefully placing her into the arms of the waiting Queen. Calanthe’s eyes were misty as she gazed down at the squirming child.

There were no physical deformities on the girl—not a toe missing or a finger out of place, both eyes unseeing with mirth and curiosity. It was the perfect child, one of the blood of Cintra, and the granddaughter that would be the lioness of Cintra. She held perfection in her hands.

As Pavetta slept off the pain of birth, Calanthe ran her hands along the child's back and shoulders, brow wrinkling at the wrinkled skin she felt underneath her fingertip.

It was quite small but noticeable to a keen eye,, and even worse, it was a mark that dropped her heart to her stomach.

To most it would mean nothing if not a birthmark, but she knew more than most. She was vaguely aware of one of the handmaidens questioning if the child could be returned to the sleeping mothers arms, but Calanthe drearily walked to the door. The handmaiden might have said something, but it was null to her ears.

The door pushed open with ease, and Duny shouldered past to see his wife.

“Ah, what a lovely child, my queen.” Mousesack said with a smile, trying to get a glimpse of the little one, “Has she been named?”

The frightening glare that was shot in his direction was enough of an answer to follow Calanthe to a separate chamber.

He made sure to shut and lock the door as soon as it closed, and made his way to the near trembling Calanthe.

“What troubles you, my queen?” Mousesach eyed the child.

Calanthe kept her voice steady, “Take the child, Mousesack.”

He was quick to take the small girl into the crease of his arms, watching her look around the world with a sense of amazement and wonder. Her eyes were bluer than the waters of old, and her round full lips would hold the heart of any man who dared gaze upon her. A beautiful child indeed.

“Should we not return her to Pavetta?” His eyes looked to the locked door, and back to Calanthe with confusion.

"Her shoulder, Mousesack.” Calanthe’s voice grew harsh. “Look at it.”

The harshness in his Queen's voice was concerning, and his heart thudded to the dungeons of Cintra as his gaze landed on what had caused the Queen such anguish. It was small for now and would no doubt grow with age, but his knowledgeable eyes knew exactly what it was, and he knew his Queen did too.

It was the mark of a Witcher.

The blade sliced through the final Wargs head with ease, dropping to the floor with an undesirable thump.

Blood poured from the severed head, and Geralt sneered at the still twitching body of the Warg that had been terrorizing the small town. It had fed on three children before a poor butcher had called him, of course with coin as a guarantee if he did indeed bring back the head of the creature.

“Is it dead? Geralt?” A voice whispered from seven trees over and a brown tuft of hair with blue eyes peered around the oak. “Is it safe to come out now? Should I be running?”

Geralt turned to glare at the bard that was like a thorn in his side, yellow orbs glowing with irritation. “It’s dead, Jaskier. It won’t bite.”

“Ha!” Jaskier spat. “You say that now, but I think you’re forgetting that little sea maggot that you said was dead and then tried to take my head off.”

Jaskier scolded as he skirted out from behind the tree and made his way to Geralt. “Is that all of them? I thought the Butcher said there were three or four.”

“He was wrong.” Geralt grunted. “The pups died from starvation days ago. It was just trying to feed them.”

“Oh, well alright then.” Jaskier rocked on the balls of his feet as Geralt made to clean off his sword. “Where to now?”

He gestured to the direction of the town. “I bet once we deliver the head we’ll have enough to get a room and— ooh , a nice bath perhaps. I think the both of us smell a bit riper than normal.”

Geralt grunted and lifted the bloody head; “I’ll get my coin at sunrise. We'll camp here.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier whined, “Come on, a fresh bath sounds so much better than sleeping on the hard floor with bugs and dead things.”

Geralt grunted. “Hm.”

Jaskier sighed and dropped his lute onto a particularly soft piece of moss, mouthing ‘stay there’.

Setting up camp was never a feat for the bard and Witcher, but Jaskier saw it before Geralt—

“Did that thing scratch you? Seriously, Geralt? What happened to telling me these things so we can fix them before you get an infection and die and I have to take your place as savior of the Continent?”

Geralt lightly patted his side and red was indeed blossoming under his armor.

“How would you live without me, Geralt? Honestly.” Jaskier scolded the big bad Witcher as his nimble fingers cleaned up the cut with a little of this and that, trying not to gawk at the shirtless Witcher under his fingertips.

Jaskier had seen Geralt’s scars before; there were ones that he’d seen him get first hand, others older and more faded. Some were obvious bite marks from creatures much larger than any human, and others Jaskier knew not to ask about.

Well, except about—

“What’s this one?” His fingertips skimmed over the Witcher’s left shoulder. It wasn’t raised or held any ridges meaning it couldn’t have been a scar. It looked far too detailed to be a scar anyhow.

“Hm?” Geralt grunted, head turning slightly to show Jaskier had his attention.

“This one doesn’t look like a scar.” Jaskier slowly said. “It looks more intentional, you know? Where’d you get it?”

“Nothing, bard.” He only called him bard when the topic was one Geralt wasn’t fond of.

“But what does it mean? Is it like a tracker or sorts? Does it ever burn? Oooo, does it glow?”

“Shut it, Jaskier.”

“Stop fidgeting, it’s going to scar if you keep moving.” Jaskier reminded his Witcher companion, trying to effectively wrap the slightly less bloody cut.

“It’ll heal on its own.” Geralt grunted.

“But it could heal—alright, I guess we’re done for now.” Geralt grunted with a glare and took his place on the other side of the low fire, sneering into the flames.

An injury was a sign of weakness, it meant he was getting slower—more likely to get himself or Jaskier killed. It made him feel almost human.

“Soooo,” Jaskier hummed in a jolly tune, “You going to tell me about that scar?”

“It’s not a scar, bard.” Geralt sneered, “And it’s none of your business.”

“But what if I want it to be my business.” Jaskier smiled like a cat that’d caught the canary. “Come on, Geralt. I share all of my secrets with you and you can’t share one measly little detail with me. Just picture it, a new ode to the scar on the Witcher’s back.”

“Hm.”

Jaskier glared with friendly mirth at his disgruntled Witcher, “Come on, Geralt, and how bad can it be?”

Only a honeyed glare was the response, and they both stared into the flames, waiting for the spit-roasted rabbits to become charred and brown with smoky flavor. It was a meal much needed for the Witcher, and his fingers twitched against the caked red on his pants. Ominous howls resonated through the dark woods, and Jaskier chuckled nervously.

“Do you think there’s more Warg’s out there? I think they’d be better company than you—“

“It’s a soul mark.”

Jaskier shut his gaping mouth at his white haired friend, sputtering, “Soul Mark? What—what does that entail, Geralt?"

This would make for a new epic in the White Wolf’s name.

He sneered at the red flames with tired eyes, “It is common lore amongst Kaer Morhen. No other Witcher has bore one in centuries.”

“I always knew you were a special one, Geralt.” The low growl from the rough chest across the fire had Jaskier smiling sheepishly, leaning forward on his seat on the log.

“Is there a reason no other Witchers have this mark? Not that I’ve ever met another Witcher aside from you, but do you even know why you got it?”

“If I knew, Jaskier,” he huffed, “I’d have gotten rid of it by now.”

“Are you not curious, Geralt?” he spoke with mirth and utter curiosity. “I’m going to assume that you share that mark with some other lonely soul walking this plane, and that person, Geralt, could be your destiny.”

Geralt took a swig of his water jug, “Destiny is for fools, Jaskier. It only ever disappoints the hopeful.”

“Are you not hopeful that someone out there is meant to be beside you until the end of days? Not just myself of course.”

askier hummed, “I am assuming all of this, of course, seeing as you are outright refusing to tell me exactly what your little mark entails—are you sleeping?”

“Shut it, bard.”

“We could cut it off before Pavetta wakes.”

Mousesack glared at his Queen, questioning her sanity.

“Oh yes, we’ll return the future princess of Cintra bleeding out from the shoulder, no questions asked.”

The child in his arms squirmed for a better position, mouthing at the buttons, little belly craving her warm mothers milk. Her little toes wiggled in earnest as she watched her grandmother pace the room with fury.

“I’ve had enough of these fucking Witchers,” she snarled with unaltered rage, startling Mousesack.

“He already called the Law of Surprise like a fool, and now his claim on that child is near unbreakable. Have we not been punished enough, Mousesack? It will destroy Pavetta to know that her daughter will live out of her days with—with…”

“Geralt, of Rivia, my Queen.” He absent-mindedly rubbed the child’s belly through the soft cloth. “He is not as cruel as you seem to believe.”

“All Witchers are the same, Mousesack.” She spat with bared teeth, “I’ve read the texts, and I’ve seen enough of them to last a lifetime. They do not feel, they do not love, and they are creatures meant to be slayed.”

Mousesack furrowed his brow, allowing the babe in his arms to grip his fingers with strength belying a newborn babe. “I do not wish to speak out of turn—“

“Then do not speak.” She snapped while waving a frivolously dramatic hand through the air. “No one can know about this, Mousesack. Not Pavetta, not Duny, no one.”

The air in the room felt tight and cold, the child yawning and snuggling into the gold of his robes. The silk was softer than a cloud, and it rubbed against the smoothness of the baby's skin.

The black mark stood stark against her fresh pale skin, and he lightly fingered the soft curve of the wolf's head that ended in the center with sharp teeth.

It was a mark he’d seen donning the silver necklace that Geralt was never seen without.

Turmoil boiled in his gut at the thought of Geralt taking away the granddaughter of Calanthe; it would destroy the Queen, just as it was now, to know that soon Geralt would feel the pull of the mark and make his way to Cintra to claim what was his.

To claim the lioness of Cintra as his partner in life.

“What shall you have me do, my Queen?”

His steps were soft across the room, gliding to her side and watching with pursed lips. The distress on her face was broad and clear, and the impatient knock on the door jolted them back to reality.

“My queen?” he begged over the banging door, “Your choice?”

Calanthe stood and smoothed down her golden dress, lips twitching with barely repressed disgust for the child in his arms.

To go from utter adoration to putrid disgust so fast made her head spin, and she tried to gingerly take the dozing babe in her arms, staring down with watery ways.

“We shall be patient, for now.” Her hand rubbed the fat of the child’s cheek, a cracking smile breaking as blue eyes opened to gaze with amazement.

Mousesack opened the door and allowed Duny to race in, gazing at his daughter with loving eyes. Calanthe handed her off with a smile, watching the father leave with words of adoration spilling from his lips.

It came in bursts—flashes of light behind his honeyed eyes—images of himself with a woman.

Geralt looked down and saw his bare feet resting in hoards of purple lilacs, as far as the eye could see. They lingered in the air—floating before his eyes and suffocating his keen senses—but the aroma of the freshest peaches lingered in the back of his mind.

Salvia pooled under his tongue as the temptation to bite into the wettest, softest fruit flooded his thoughts. Fruits of tender flesh were hard to come by in these times but this was one that was to die for.

His legs moved on their own, stumbling through the soft field of lilacs with no mind in any actual direction. This was a place that was strange and new, and a call rang through his heightened Witcher senses.

“Geralt.”

He must’ve been dead—that Warg must have bitten on his head and this was truly heaven—and the voice calling for him was an angel. It was ethereal and haunting at the once, and desperation to find the voice and hold it close grew stronger.

His stumbling grew more desperate for the voice, running through the field and coming to a halt.

It was a woman indeed; she was far away in the naked flesh in a field of purple. Her back was turned to him and he nearly fell to his knees at the sight of her full buttocks and flesh back. It was flesh that he could see himself marking with his teeth, his nails as they rutted against one another.

The desire to nibble and suckle on the sweet flesh, to mount and fuck was startling to the normally tame Geralt. Who was this sorceress, casting a spell on me?

The golden eyes of the Witcher zeroed in on his mark donning her shoulder; wanting to touch and make sure it was real. It couldn’t have been . The wind blew her short dark locks and exposed a pale neck, small ears that looked positively edible.

He was immobile, stuck to the floor and only a spectator as her head turned to gaze at the fallen Witcher. Blue eyes akin to the waters of plenty, red lips softer than the petals of a rose.

His voice was desperate and hungry. “Who are you?”

Her body turned and he fell to his knees. His golden orbs took in her perky round breasts with dusty thick nipples, the soft fat of her stomach that would no doubt hold the children he could never sire, the thick thighs that would be best wrapped around his head as he feasted on her most desirable parts.

Who was this enchantress?

“Find me, Geralt. Before it’s too late,” she whispered, vanishing into the air.

Part 2 Soon!

#the witcher #the witcher fanfic #geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt imagines #geralt of rivia x ofc #geralt x ofc #henry cavill #henry cavill imagines #henry cavill x ofc #geralt x oc #geralt of rivia x oc #fanfiction #oc character

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aileysmirnov · 3 years

Text

Loki x Ailey hc! part 1

I was watching Thor Ragnarok with some friends (over zoom ofc) and then It popped up in my head a conversation that I had with @melyaliz and Alex (ig: shir.0_guru) a while back, and I couldn't shake it off my brain as I was trying to write some other thing. So hopefully writing this down would apace my mind.

TW: Arranged marriage, depictions of emotional/psychological abuse

Summary: Eris and Odin find a solution to what's been threatening their domains, an alliance between 2 of the most powerful families, but Ailey and Loki don't seem so keen about it.

Disclaimer/notes: Ailey is my OC! You can learn more about her in here!

Ailey has finally been reunited with most of her family and entered the realm of gods in this AU.

Samaras is the last name of the Eris family, they are rulers of Thera (Eris kingdom) and each member bears a royal title.

Ailey is the only demi-goddess in her family, Demigods are seen as shameful in this AU and usually they have a birthmark and a weakness that distinguishes them as such. In Ailey's case is her golden rose hair once she transforms in her god-form and her weakness is her allergy to gold, it practically burns her skin, debilitates her magic and herself, is like kryptonite for her.

◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

The only reason they even know about the other, is because of their parents: Eris had been in conflict with Ares lately, and one of his recent attacks greatly debilitated her army and Odin had trouble with a few of the realms under his command forming complots against him and the safety of Asgard.

Both rulers found themselves in need of the other: Odin had the greatest warriors and military at his service, and Eris being the goddess of discord could easily rise or disipate any conflict that may come her way (except for Ares ofc), an easy way in or out of war.

And so, they decided to form an alliance; But Odin being the wise men he is, knew better than to trust blindly in the goddess of chaos, after all...Eris was known for being a backstabber who acted only to beneficiate her own interests.

To prevent that, Odin decided to make the alliance under the condition that one member of the Samaras family must marry the second son: Loki, God of mischief. And so, Eris agreed and offered her youngest daughter: Ailey goddess of ruin and folly.

God it was an absolute mess since the beginning!

Frigga was the one to inform Loki, who immediately went to Odin to protest, but like always his father ignored him, shutting him down by comparing him to his brother and how he would do anything to protect Asgard but Loki was being selfish.

Ailey in the other hand was kept ignorant of such decision and only knew about it a few hours before the engagement party began and only because a servant accidentally told her.

She was furious and much like Loki tried to protest but Eris couldn't care less about her daughter's opinion.

Ailey could rage all she wanted, Eris wasn't even paying attention, the only thing she was accomplishing was in making her angry.

—Child, I think you tend to forget your place in this world, you see: among humans you might be...special but in here... you're just an idiot with too much privilege—Eris had a way with words that could make them feel like poison, creeping in to the insecurities of one's heart.

—If it weren't for me and your brothers, you would be Hera's new toy, so please remember, dear. You not only owe me but to your brothers and this kingdom as well.

Ailey headed back to her room feeling ashamed and angry, she felt her mother's words had some truth in them, seeing as how different she was viewed here in comparison to the human realm.

When the time came for the engagement party and for Ailey and Loki to meet for the first time, is fair to say neither of them were in a good mood.

Even though deep inside they knew both of them didn't have any say in the matter and were pretty much in the same situation; they still felt irrationally mad at each other, that's why since the moment they met to the end of the ceremony they would throw little passive-aggressive remarks at each other.

She viewed him as a pretentious asshole, and He saw her as a spoiled brat.

Almost near the end of the celebration and no announcement had been made so Eris took it upon herself to throw them into the spotlight.

—I believe you two have something important to share with all of us—her face was smiling but her eyes were threatening.

Ailey bit the inner side of her cheek, rolled her eyes as she turned to face Loki who only gave an exasperated sigh before speaking in a monotone voice

—Do you want to marry me?—he didn't even bothered to get on one knee and just extended the ring for her to take.

Ailey felt tempted to say "no" and walk away gracefully but doing that would probably have a negative impact on Thera, so after a long pause she answered.

—Whatever—and put the ring on, herself.

Clearly a good start :) .

I think they didn't saw each other that much afterwards and when they did it was mostly for wedding arrangements in which they continued with the passive-aggressive comments but this time about everything the other would pick.

The mood was so uncomfortable every time they were together everyone around them was like:

I think that sometimes they would have moments where they realize they had been too harsh with the other and would tone it down a little but treating each other like that was the only way of protest that was allowed for them.

Specially for Loki since he constantly had to travel to Thera bc for some reason unknown to him Ailey refused to go to Asgard, which only made his negative opinion on her grow.

In his mind, it was probably because she thought she was too good for Asgard but the reality was: Asgard is practically a death sentence for Ailey since 90% of every building in there was made of gold.

But she will never tell him that.

I think their first "moment of closeness" came to be purely out of the realization neither of them had any option other than get married or see their domains destroyed.

So, they decided to call it a truce: both would play along with the whole marriage fiasco for a while until things died down and then they could divorce and pretend they never even met.

And so, the passive-aggressive comments slowly died down, not that they started acting like lovers all of a sudden, instead they acted like they were just... co-workers or something.

They would greet each other in a formal manner and then only talked about the arrangements and left, nothing else.

But then, inevitably they started to get closer.

It was something so gradual none of them really knew how it happened.

It started off with small comments about decoration ideas for the venue, it turns out they both had quite the interest in interior design.

Eventually those small comments became lengthy conversations about which combination of colors would look the best.

When it came down to learning about the nobility attending the wedding on each side, both would spend a little more time together. Studying the proper way on how to address them and their interests all for the possibility in forming new alliances.

But I feel like instead they would roast the hell out of them, like they would be going through a list of the Asgardian nobility that were to attend and Ailey would just point at a picture of a random Asgardian noble and go: "Oh. My. God. what is he even wearing?"

And Loki would try to force back a smile or a laugh but eventually he would just give in and start joining Ailey in the roasting.

They also have a very similar sense of humor, but Ailey is just more blunt and open about it while Loki isn't, I feel like most of the time he has genius comebacks to stupid comments people make but he's a gentleman and normally just keeps it to himself or would only say it in a polite but slightly aggressive manner, so when Ailey just bluntly says something similar to what he was thinking he can't help but laugh a bit (he won't admit to it though)

Other things Ailey and Loki have in common is their love for drama and spectacle, while Ailey is more of a ballet/dance-based plays person, she understands Loki’s enthusiasm for theater and books even sharing some of it herself.

Not only they enjoy these things, but they also found comfort in them: For Ailey ballet began as something her mother forced upon her but transformed in an outlet for her emotions and a way to connect and control her powers.

For Loki theater was a form of escapism since he was a child, every time he felt like he didn’t belong he found a safe place in countless stories of the misunderstood heroes.

This only makes their bond grow deeper; up until this point they never had anyone to talk to about their interests in such depth, so now they talk all the time about it, sometimes they would surprise themselves looking forward to the next meeting just to gush about a new play or book they just saw or read.

I feel like Loki might’ve even lend Ailey some copies of his favorite books and Ailey as a “thank you” decided to sneek out with him to the human realm to watch "Tristan und Isolde".

Everyone is able to notice the change in attitude of these two, especially Thor who only had heard about the girl but could tell how happy she made him every time Loki would mention her.

And he was happy for his brother but felt curious about his soon to be sister-in-law.

So, it was only natural when Thor asked Loki if he could tag along the next time he went to Thera.

He said no.

Thor went anyways.

When Ailey met him, she could only think about one thing: "he himbo" which she thought was cute btw.

Thor could see why Loki liked this girl so much, they were practically the same, which he found sweet yet amusing.

—Lady Ailey, a pleasure to meet you, mi brother has told me a lot about you!—he stated.

—Really?!—Ailey questioned directing an incredulous glance at Loki.

—He asked—Loki tried to defend himself by downplaying his brother statement.

—No, I didn’t.—Thor retaliated with a mocking smile, he could tell his brother felt embarrassed so he decided to tease him a bit more.

—In fact, he won’t shut up about you.

—That’s not true, he’s just..

—No, he’s all the time saying Ailey this, Ailey that. It peaked my curiosity and so here I am…

—Brother, Could you shut up?—Ailey could only smile and hold back a laugh at the brothers spontaneous quarrel.

Truth is she thought it was sweet of Loki to talk about her with his brother. And teases him about it afterwards.

I think Thor might talk privately with Ailey and would ask her to take care of his brother.

—I know Loki can be a bit…difficult, but have patience with him, I can tell he really likes you.

And Thor was correct, Loki really did like her. But it might take a while for him to come to terms with his feelings, and would only manifest in small gestures towards Ailey, like: tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, subconsciously offering his arm for her to take as support when walking down the stairs, placing a hand on the small of her back as guidance whenever they were in a crowded space, sneaking small glances at her, etc.

Overall, he starts acting a lot softer with her, a lot more caring.

Ailey might be a bit oblivious to this (since she’s only used to overly sexual advances and has a difficult time understanding genuine affection), but she appreciates it none the less.

And both might even find themselves thinking that maybe…just maybe spending the rest of their lives together isn’t a bad idea after all.

#ailey #oc #dc #dc comics #oc edit #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki headcanon #loki hc #loki x reader #loki x oc #loki x ailey #yulia rose #tom hiddleston #loki

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vanchlo · 4 years

Text

The Firsts / #1 “The First Time Meeting The Family”

ABOUT: A blurb series retelling the important firsts in the first year or so in Becks and Harry’s relationship, covering the gap between the end of The Assistant, and the beginning of its sequel, The Partner.

---> NEXT BLURB: I hope that I can put it out on October 4th, following the every other week rule, but I’m not sure with my busy schedule. Keep an eye out for updates on the series masterlist!

READ THE ASSISTANT, AKA WHAT CAME FIRST

SERIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

READ ON WATTPAD

LEGEND:

+ : a break in the story; a time jump.

italics : a flashback in the story.

++ : a point of view change in the story.

WARNINGS: Some mild language, and a small incidence of physical assault

WORD COUNT: 10.9k words (!!!)

SONG: A Love Like This by Ben Rector (CLICK TO LISTEN AND I KNOW I USE TOO MANY OF HIS SONGS BUT THEYRE SOOO ROMANTIC)

* SNEAK PEEK, DUH BC ALWAYS *

“Always, baby - protect you, save you- you name it and ‘ll be there,” Harry coos with the softest of smiles, tracing with his thumb the new red lines that litter my face in places. “Always,” he whispers, leaning forward to kiss the place under my eye where my birthmark sits, and beside it a new scar that he’s kissed more times than I could count.

I could never keep track of how many times I’ve looked at him and silently said those three words that once itched to jump off of my tongue and into his ears. The very three that sit in his eyes, just for me.

“No matter how much it hurts, no matter how hard it gets, you gotta keep grinding. And that’s how we’re gonna win. We’re gonna win and anyone that gets in our way? Well, God help them.” - Dean Winchester, Supernatural

The phone rang with a shrill bringggggg!, yanking a sigh from my lips.

Another one.

Another sigh.

Another call.

It’s just another normal day for me.

After sliding back on the mask that I so often wear within these walls, I at last leave my office and the phone that tends to keep ringing off the hook. Ignoring it and letting the answering machine take it this time, my heels click-clack on the dark tiled floor, a sound I had long ago become accustomed to.

Yet another sound is that of the hot coffee churning into my mug from the Keurig in the break room, and the splash of the creamer I pour in next.

A sound that I don’t think I could ever get used to, nor would I want to become mundane, is that of the breathy giggle trickling out from my open office when I return. He doesn’t see me yet, but I see him as I take a page from his book and lean in the doorway to watch him. Steam wafts across my smiling lips before the coffee meets them, my eyes fixed on the back of his tousled curls.

“It’s about time your meeting finished,” I announce, returning to my stride as I close the door. Setting down the hot mug on the corner of my desk, I tread over to my chair and let my arms wind around his neck from behind.

“Yer tellin’ me,” he nearly scoffs, switching apps on his phone quickly.

“What are you being secretive about, hmm, Harry?” I tease with a peck to his satiny smooth cheek.

“Oh, nuthin’, I jus’ wanted t’ check tha weather. Reckon we’re in fer some sun this weekend, yet anotha thing that’s overdue. We should go on a hike or sumthin’ Sunday, but we might need our Wellies.”

“You say that I’m a bad liar, but you should know that so are you,” I huff against his cheek, catching a whiff of his aftershave’s notes of cucumber and aloe vera.

“I dunno what yer talkin’ ‘bout, Becks,” he insists with a measly shrug of his shoulders, but he tries to act like I can’t hear the slight snicker in his voice, or see the red appearing in his cheeks.

“Fine, I give up . . We should get cracking on those testimonies already, seeing as now I’m done waiting on you.”

“Agreed. ‘m gonna go grab a cuppa, and ‘ll meet you in me office. ‘Kay?” Harry responds, standing to his feet, and turning around to face me. The smile falling into my cheeks is instantaneous at the mere sight of him, making me realize that I somehow missed him for the last three hours he was in his meeting. Well, I wouldn’t be wrong to say that I’m most definitely spoiled getting to work with my boyfriend for nearly every second for five days a week. My dream at last came true. “Wait, I thought you were gettin’ sick o’ me earlier? ‘sn’t that right, bug?” he poses with a perfect raise of his eyebrows, taking a step towards me.

“I uh, dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Yer a bloody terrible liar, still dunno why ya think I can’t sniff ‘em out on you,” he smirks, clicking his tongue in disappointment as he taps my nose. The tall white roses on his baby pink slacks billow with every step of his, only worsening my giggle. “Becks, Becks, Becks,” he tuts with a shake of his growing curls. My lips sparking with a happy nervousness bring out the dimples in his cheeks.

“What, Harold?”

“Dunno how many times ‘ve told ya not t’ call me that,” he exhales with a wag of his finger, only a few steps between myself and the door now.

“But Rory gets to call you that!”

“He doesn’t get t’ call me anythin’, bug. Rory doesn’t listen t’ a fookin’ word I say, so he’s not goin’ t’ start callin’ me by me real name fer tha first time in eight years, I don’t think,” he chuckles, and I let an eye roll slip, but not quick enough. “Ya betta watch it now, and my bloody God, Rebecca Holte, you best put that pout away befo’ I-.”

“Before you what, Harry?” I tease with a cock of my head.

“Y’know yer pushin’ me buttons, right? Oh wait, yer fully aware o’ that, arentcha, Becks? I can see tha look on yer face right now, y’know yer diggin’ yerself a hole here, babe,” Harry tuts, continuing to wag that finger at me until my back meets the door and he lays his hands above my head to steady himself. “And, t’ answer yer question - reckon ya won’t get any kisses fer tha rest o’ tha day if yer gonna be a brat,” he shrugs with full composure, sliding a hand to my back that he presses on to come closer to him. “Make this one last,” he whispers, leaving a kiss on my forehead before opening the door.

“Harry!” I exclaim, whirling around to find him already escaping down the hallway.

His hearty laugh wanders down to grace my ears, and then, he turns around with that smart grin on his face, “‘m jus’ grabbin’ a new cup o’ coffee, ‘ll meet you in me office, love,” he calls back ever so innocently, almost running into one of Asher’s blokes from IT. Groaning, I imitate his typical stance of leaning against the doorway with crossed arms, watching his figure become all the smaller as he stops to talk with Amelia and then to Jennings with an always cheerful smile.

At times, it still boggles me how different things are, although it’s difficult to remember how things were before. How they were when my view every day was this very hallway from my measly desk sat at the end of it. It makes it all the harder to remember how much I longed for, how it tore me apart, and not just that, but how different of a person he was. I wasn’t the same either - I started off cold and brash with him, as did he, and I could never entertain the thought of what things would be like if he hadn’t warmed up to me, as well.

Memories flash in front of me as the sofa molds to my body, like all of the other times, followed by the thud of my heels falling to the floor. With a blink, I’m propelled back to the days when I’d be scared to set foot in this office, his. Now, I can’t imagine feeling anything other than safe to be in here. Despite the traumas that took place inside of these four walls, my lips curl up at the thought of the lovely things that were born in here as well. The hidden kisses. The beginning of our friendship. Our first hug. My beginnings as a lawyer, and so much more that warms me from the inside.

My, all of the firsts that we have had.

Pulling my cardigan around me tighter, I round a corner and then another, hoping I’m at least going in the right direction. The images keep flashing before my eyes - the silence that fell over the room when he entered it, a completely different person than the one that I know. A pride that I want to deny and forget still clings to my body and every thought that I have. So often, I find myself hating him, and yet I couldn’t have been more proud sitting in that room and watching him do what he does best, argue.

Coming to a halt, I look around for a sign to tell me where I’m going, in the hopes that the front doors are somewhere near. Shaking my head, I take another left on a whim, and regret it within a matter of moments.

“Holte?” comes a voice from ahead of me. Glancing up, I freeze in my place before my feet try to scurry away. “What tha bloody hell are you doin’ here, and where are you goin’ so fast?” they say, almost making a sound. A laugh, perhaps?

“I was just uh, meeting a friend.”

“Since when do friends meet at a courthouse?” he asks with skewed eyebrows, his steps ending in front of me. His hand full of rings cards through his long curls, and my, they only look better up close.

“My friend . . works here.”

“Oh ‘s that so? What department do they work in?” he continues, the dimples slowly finding their place in his cheeks, especially as the words fleet me. “Yer lyin’ t’ me arentcha, Holte?”

“Fine, I wanted to come and watch you argue your case, since you were making a big deal out of how important it is,” I sigh, turning around and placing my back to him.

“Hey, you. Wait!” he calls, and I soon feel his rings against the flesh of my bicep. “What’s tha rush?” he titters, and when I turn around, this all only gets all the more weird.

“What, is it a crime to come and watch you in action?”

“No, so why’re you actin’ like yer doin’ sumthin’ yer not s’posed t’ do?” he smirks. “Huh, Holte?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Styles,” I sigh, wishing I could sneak a look at his fingers gentle around my arm to prove that it’s real, but . . that would give it away and perhaps make him stop. That’s the last thing I want, even though two seconds ago, I thought that running into him here was the last thing I wanted. Now, I’m not so sure. I should have known that this would happen, though. “You were great, you know,” I say slowly, a smile mirrored on his reddening face.

“Thank you,” he responds quietly, looking away and regrettably, letting his hand fall from my arm. “I didn’t know you were there . . watchin’ me.”

“I wasn’t planning on it . . but I’m glad that I came and spent my lunch break watching you.”

“Me too,” he replies softly, his bottom lip escaping to between his teeth.

“Well, good luck and I’ll see you at work, I guess.”

“Ya, you too, Holte. Thanks,” Harry says, and I find it painful to walk away from him now, and awkward. Sighing, I find a hallway in each direction when I reach the corner, and take one at random.

“Tha main entrance ‘s tha other direction, Holte,” Harry giggles, and I stop in my tracks, hearing his familiar Saint Laurent boots click-clack on the tiled floor. “Here, I was jus’ goin’ t’ lunch, I can show you tha way.”

“No, I’m okay.”

“No, please. Let me,” he insists, and when I steal a glance at him he’s pushing back the dark sleeve of his smooth black blazer to look at his watch. I’m left wondering which was more expensive, the suit or the watch. “I was jus’ poppin’ ova t’ a restaurant down tha street fer lunch, if ya’d like t’ join me, yer welcome t’.”

Gulping, I quickly look away and to the ground where he can’t see my eyes threaten to pop out of my skull. Did he really just ask me to get lunch with him? What should I say? Wouldn’t it be awkward? What would we even talk about? I should say no, he’s probably just being nice.

“I um . . “

“‘ll take that as a yes then,” he pipes up eagerly, accompanied by the sound of his booming steps. “Hurry up, Holte, time’s a tickin.’ I reckon this ‘s tha only time you’ve been in these walls, so ‘ll be kind enough t’ show ya t’ tha front doors, even tho’ me car ‘s on tha otha side.”

Because of course he would say that, Mr. Hotshot Lawyer who is cocky, annoying, frustrating, full of himself, bossy, rude-

“Thank you,” I say, interrupting my thoughts and taking a plunge, right into those deep green eyes that land on me, and to my surprise, with a smile.

“Welcome, Holte.”

“Thank you,” he says with a rose colored smile to the server, plucking the black book from the middle of the table before I could even think to grab it first. With a quiet sigh, I watch him fish out his wallet and slide a sleek credit card out from a sleeve, stuffing it into the small pocket inside the book, without even a glance inside. “What’s yer problem?” he huffs, chewing on the mint-flavored toothpick and pointing his eyes at me. His eyebrows do all of the talking that stops me from refusing.

“You don’t have to pay for me, I can pay for my own meal,” I insist firmly, touching my wallet that I had pulled out and placed next to my dwindling glass of water.

“I know that,” he begins with strength in his voice, and I worry that I just offended him. I’m afraid it could erase the memorable first meal we just had together of brunch, talking about his case and actually finding out things that he likes and enjoys. “But I would like t’ treat you, and I did invite you after all,” he finishes, smiling briefly when the server returns the book. Sliding out his credit card, he replaces it in his wallet and instead grabs a few bills that he tucks into the black book. “Goin’ t’ argue with me some mo’, are we?”

“No.”

“Good choice,” Harry replies, and when he meets my eyes across the round wooden table, I think that I may see him smile at me.

“But-.”

“And what tha bloody hell d’ya want now?” he grins, propping his chin on his upheld fist, his cheeks round from his smile.

“Maybe I wanted to pay for your meal too.”

“You can tha next time, love. Alright?” he replies softly. When he tears his eyes away to glance at his dinging phone, something stirs inside of me and I wish I could make him look at me like that again. I wish I could create another moment where it feels like he actually likes me.

“On one condition.”

“What’s that, love?” he asks with that breathy laugh of his I’ve only heard a few times now, and never has it been because of me.

“You go back to calling me Becks . . no more ‘Holte,’” I announce slowly and carefully, because if I said them too fast or not just right, I’m afraid that they may break altogether and ruin it. One corner of his mouth reaches higher up his cheek, and I think that for the first time, I’ve made him smile all on my own. “I like it when you call me that.”

“I like it too, darlin’. Reckon ya could be a good lawyer, y’know, with that convincin’ face o’ yers, yer hard t’ say no t’,” he answers, standing to his feet and sliding on his coat, waiting for me to do the same. Does that mean my puppy dog eyes worked on him, fucking finally?

“Thank you, Mr. Styles.”

“Yer not allowed t’ call me that anymo’ then,” Harry says, looking back over his shoulder at me, a few steps ahead of me now.

“Okay,” I agree softly, and the breath hitches in my throat when his eyebrows raise at me with the smallest of smirks. “Harry.”

“Good, I like tha sound o’ that betta.”

“Me too,” I echo ever so quietly, stepping out into the fall air as he holds the door open for me, dreading the strange friendship of ours that will end in the next few moments. A friendship that I wish could live within the walls of the firm, and inside of my heart as something more.

“Ya, that all sounds great. I can’t wait fer this weekend . . Ya, ‘ll ask her soon and let y’know . . Alright, bye,” I hear from down the hall in a happy lilt. Within moments, the smile I hear in his voice appears before my eyes, and somehow only grows brighter.

“What are you smiling about? Oh, and what’s this you’re going to ask me?”

“I neva said I had sumthin’ t’ ask you,” he shrugs with a rosiness to his round cheeks, gliding into his office with his bottom lip held between his teeth.

“Don’t be rude.”

“‘m not,” he giggles softly, stopping at his desk to grab his dark gray Macbook.

“You don’t have me convinced, Mr. Styles,” I sigh, letting my chin fall into my hand as I open up my Google Docs.

“Ah, I rememba when ya used t’ call me that, ‘s been awhile.”

“You can say that again, and God, don’t get too big of a head about it,” I huff with an ironic laugh, feeling myself pulled down memory lane regrettably. “I was just thinking about that, and how much things have changed.”

“Too true,” Harry hums, getting comfy beside me on the sofa while his Macbook blankets his face in a soft glow. “You were Holte and I was Mr. Styles or sir sumtimes. Talk ‘bout a bloody blast from tha past,” he tsks and I find myself nodding along with him. Glancing over to him, my eyebrows fall as my cheeks deceive me with a balmy warmth filling them.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” I wheeze, my fingers drifting to my hair nervously. After all of this time, he can still make me blush like there’s no tomorrow.

“What, I can’t admire me pretty girlfriend?” he scoffs with a shake of his head, booping my nose with his finger. Sometimes, I really still can’t believe that I get to be called that by him.

“I guess you can.”

“Reckon ya should be nicer t’ yer boss, miss. ‘m tha person who signs yer checks,” he tuts while I admire the beauty of his side profile, still trying to get used to how he looks without a beard. Give him back his long hair and it would be like the beginning all over again, although I’m not sure why I keep thinking back to then. I’m not even positive if it’s a good or bad nostalgia.

“Hey!”

“Hey!” he returns in a high pitched voice, imitating me, I suppose. His bubbly laugh soon follows and so do those olive greens that return to me, quite possibly my favourite color in all of existence. “Look at us, bug, back where it all started, aren’t we?” he coos, pulling me into his side and pressing his lips to my head in a loud smooch.

“Mmmhmm, better than ever.”

“Yes, we are. A new beginnin’ o’ sorts, Becks. I dunno how I got so lucky with you,” he winks and thumbs at my chin, his lips only a breath away.

“I think I’m the lucky one.”

“No, that’s me,” he argues with his trademark breathy laugh, and before I get two words out, my comeback is smothered with a kiss. I really did get lucky, luckier than little old me ever thought I would, or could.

God, I’m so proud of her - the old Becks. Him, too. The new us, and especially the old us. We earned this.

“Woman, I swear t’ bloody God if ya send me one mo’ bleedin’ photo o’ a puppy ‘stead o’ writin’ yer brief, imma boot you outta me office and yer not allowed back.”

“Harry!” I scoff after a sound of disbelief, my eyes tearing away from the Google search and to him. His chin is held in his palm while he taps his temple with his pointer finger, eyebrows raised in a silent question at me. “You wouldn’t!”

“Oh, you wanna try me, Holte?” he returns with his eyes narrowed at me, giving me a nod.

Huffing, I look away and back to my laptop, to a screen filled with photos of golden retriever puppies. “Y’know, you’ll seal yer fate if ya roll those pretty eyes at me.”

“I won’t,” I grumble softly, closing out of the tab sadly.

“Good girl,” he hums, tapping the corner of my laptop from above. Looking up, his green eyes draw me over, but I don’t let them pull me in. “Good girl listenin’ t’ yer boss, bug,” he finishes with a wink.

“Don’t call me that, you know I don’t like it,” I retort curtly, switching tabs to my brief where the cursor stares back at me, daring me to try my hand at it.

“But ’s cute, brings back good memories. I like tha name, ’s yer last name. Rebecca Holte,” he teases, nosing at my cheek that grows warmer with every word he speaks.

“For you it does, not me, Harry,” I almost snap, closing the laptop with a sudden clap! He clears his throat and the sound is followed by that of his velvet black Chelsea boots backing up. Spiegel im Spiegel floats from his iMac across the room, a black folder sitting in front of it with now forgotten documents.

“‘m sorry, Becks, it wasn’t tha best o’ times fer me either . . ,” Harry says softly. I wouldn’t have to even look and I know that his lip is held between his teeth like a vice. At my eye level, he twirls a red gemstone ring around a finger, much like I do when something is itching at my insides annoyingly.

“It was the best of times and the worst of times, somewhat minus the best part,” I mumble, picking at the Coldplay sticker already peeling from the lilac case of my laptop.

“Hey, it wasn’t all that bad when ya think o’ tha good parts, babe. Tacos at Pedro’s, stayin’ late drinkin’ wine coolers togetha, tha Halloween party, all o’ our games o’ Scrabble, takin’ you t’ that charity ball with the masquerade theme, and meeting me best friend in tha whole entire world.”

“You know how to work the floor, you know that?” I say gently, smoothing down the sticker with the back of my fingernail.

“Looks like we need anotha night at mine, paintin’ our nails togetha,” he pipes up, but when I remain silent, he returns to my comment that he so easily ignored. “Well yes, yer datin’ a lawyer here, bug. That’s how I swept you off yer feet, dontcha rememba?”

“I dunno about that,” I giggle, ever so slightly, distracted by his hands that come into view and his rings that I bother with. At last, I find those green eyes waiting for me, just as they always do.

“Hey, why tha long face, my love?” he coos sadly, eyebrows bent beneath the weight of his words. “‘m sorry t’ upset you, ‘m not gonna kick you outta me office, y’know I couldn’t handle you bein’ gone eitha.”

“I know,” I titter softly, sliding off his silver ring dotted with little figures and placing it on my thumb where it still hangs loose.

“I like tha name, maybe even fer a boy one day . . Holte,” he muses happily, but I can’t find any words that I’d be willing to say. Instead, I pry the jewelry from my hand and swiftly glide it back onto his. “Altho’ I reckon I treated you like shit when I called you that.”

“Just a bit.”

“‘m sorry t’ drudge tha memory up like I did,” he whispers, only feeding the awkward tension waiting in the air. His lanky figure leaves its place in front of me, reminding me of the money tree sitting across me by the window, an ironic gift from Myles last month. “Can I help you with yer brief, li’l one?” Harry continues, the cushion underneath me dipping with his weight. I nod before I even feel his hand squeeze my adjacent shoulder and pull me into his side with a lasting kiss to my forehead. “Love you.”

“I love you too,” I echo, tipping my head to his shoulder as he lifts the closed laptop from my lap. Laying back, he props it on his spread lap as I snuggle into his side.

“I like what ya have so far, I think yer inna good spot. How ‘bout this, next we . . . . ,” Harry says after reading the document, but with his greens back in sight and that dimple threatening to pop loose, I find it hard to listen to a word he says while staring up at him. My boyfriend. Can you believe it, Becky? “You even listenin’ t’ me there?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just hard to when you’re so cute.”

“Bloody hell,” he chuckles with rosy cheeks, the dimples loud and proud at the helm of his smile. “Alright, let’s take a break from goo-goo-gaga land for a few, Ms. Holte, and work on yer brief fer yer case that’s bein’ heard next week. Alright?”

“Alright,” I sigh with a slight pout that he sees instantaneously with a shake of his head.

“Shall I entice you? Dunno why I should hafta, but I guess we all need a li’l bit o’ bribery e’ry now and then,” he smirks, finishing his words with a wink. “My Becks likes bribes.”

“Oh and what, you don’t, Ha-,” the giggle flows from my lips, and is yanked in by his that silence my words. Sometimes, I really do wish that I could tell The Old Me about how good it gets, and to hold on, because it may be a bumpy ride, Old Becky, but it’s going to all pay off in the end.

“Bloody hell, no wonder ya’ve had t’ pee ten times t’day. Chill on tha caffeine, would ya?” somebody gripes from behind me, but it falls away when their arms come around my middle, soon nosing at my neck.

“Hey, I gave into coffee long ago. It owns me by now,” I return, closing the top to the Keurig. After pressing a few buttons, the machine begins to whir and spit out the dark liquid. My neck tickles from his warm breaths behind me, and the feeling of his lips.

“Becks?”

“Yeah, Harry?” I respond, my hands finding their way to surround his that lay clasped over my belly. The tip of his middle finger ghosts over my several inch scar, making me wonder when he had memorized it in his mind.

“My mum ‘s comin’ t’ visit this weekend, t’ see Gemma and tha kids, and me. She’s comin’ over t’ mine Saturday mornin’ fer brekky . . and I was uh, wonderin’ if ya’d like t’ join us? If ya’d like t’ meet me mum at last? She hasn’t stopped askin’ t’ meet you fer tha last two months.” the words leave his lips in an announcement, taking away all else and no longer do I feel his hands on my stomach or hear the churning of the coffee. Turning around, his dimples live far away and so does his bottom lip that’s trapped between his teeth, telling me that I’m not the only one being consumed by my nervousness. “I reckon she’s mo’ excited t’ see you than she ‘s t’ see me,” Harry chuckles but the light on his lips sputters out when I tear my eyes away from his hopeful ones.

“Harry, I . . “

“What ‘s it, Becks?” he whispers. My eyes close when he noses against my cheek, his next words crawling along my neck. “Y’know she’ll love you, ‘ssa given, babe.”

“How can she love me when she hasn’t even met me?”

“‘Cuz yer so lovable, that’s why,” he insists from below my ear, mouthing at the hollow that lives there. “Why’re ya so nervous, babe? I reckon this ‘s a piece o’ cake compared t’ how I met yer bloody parents, in hospitals o’ all places.”

“Yeah, I shouldn’t complain,” I respond quietly, but that’s all that I can think of when we pull apart at the sound of a voice from behind the break room door. Clearing my throat, I turn back to my mug of coffee where the last few drops plop into the steaming liquid.

“Promise you it’ll be okay. There’s nuthin’ t’ be nervous ‘bout, she’s tha sweetest woman ‘ve ever met- well, besides you that ‘s,” Harry says quietly, eyes wandering between our guest and me. “‘s jus’ brekky and if ya like, dinner at me sista’s that night too.”

“Two in one?” I exclaim, setting down my coffee and turning to face him where he leans against the counter. The smirk painted across his face spreads to his shoulders that he shrugs ever so smugly. “God, Harry, bombard me much?” I sigh sarcastically with a shake of my head, turning away from him and watching how the coffee does somersaults when I pour creamer into it.

“Well? Ya aren’t jus’ gonna leave me hangin’ there, Becks, are you?” he plods on, pulling at the cuff of my blazer impatiently while one of the blokes from IT rummages through the refrigerator.

“I dunno, Harry, meeting two family members in one day is a lot to ask of me,” I tut jokingly with my lips pressed into an uncertain line. The disappointment on his face melts away when I find his greens with my own again. “Of course I’ll meet your mum, but I’m supposed to have dinner with Skye and her parents Saturday night, so I can’t make it to your sister’s, I’m sorry. It seems to be a popular weekend for parents to come into town.”

“Oh, I rememba you mentionin’ that now. ‘m sorry, I forgot. No worries on meetin’ me sista, she lives in town y’know, so we’ll jus’ find anotha day,” he agrees in a soft voice, brushing it off expertly. “Yer not gettin’ outta that one that easily, Becks,” he teases, pointing a finger at me that I push away.

“If you meet Skye’s mum, I’ll meet your sister. Sound like a deal?”

“Skye’s mum?” he questions, crossing his arms over his chest with knotted brows. I almost giggle at the confusion swept over his face until the bulging of his muscles beneath the arms of his button up pulls me in and far away. Once again, this man really does know what he’s doing to me, even when he’s not exactly aware of it.

“Yes,” I exhale, dragging my eyes back to my tan colored coffee. Finished with the creamer, it closes with an excited snap! “I was nervous for you to meet my mum, although I never thought it’d happen, but I’m more about you meeting Eliza, Skye’s mum. She’s more of a mum to me than mine ever was, always letting me sleep over when things got bad with mine, and Robbie too. I’d really like for you to meet her, maybe lunch or something while she’s in town the next few days.”

His eyes are soft and light dances within them, just for me. “‘Course, bug, ‘d love t’ meet her. She sounds lovely, and so would lunch with her and Skye. Altho’ ‘m not sure how somebody who birthed Skye could be lovely,” he jokes and quickly laughs when my jaw slackens. “‘m bloody jokin’ and whateva ya do, don’t tell her I said that,” he chuckles, enjoying this far too much than he should be.

“You’re really going to be in for it with Skye now,” I giggle with a dismissive shake of my head as I lift the mug to my lips.

“What’s new?” he asks with his hands held out in front of him, leaving my side to grab a Styles and Lawson mug from the cabinet, identical to my own. “I thought you and Rose didn’t like our mugs, so why d’ya keep usin’ ‘em, hmm?”

“I dunno, they have . . good handles.”

“Sureeeee, Becks,” he tuts as the K-Cup falls into the holder with a signifying pop! “So, Saturday then?” he says nonchalantly while placing the mug under the impending stream of caffeine. He continues his trained practice of his voice dipping when the bloke gets too close to us- Brian, I think it is, I can’t remember. He really does know what he’s doing, this man of mine.

My name on his lips rouses me from my overactive thoughts and pulls my eyes over to his and his already five o’clock shadow, distracting me from the clang! of the door closing. “What should I wear?” I wonder aloud with placid lips that only move to imitate the emotion yanking his towards the heavens.

“You’ll look gorgeous in absolutely anythin’, bug, and ‘s jus’ brekky. Please, ya don’t hafta worry ‘bout meetin’ her, she’s so easy t’ get on with. ‘s like she already knows you from everythin’ ‘ve told her ‘bout you over tha years.”

“Wow, no pressure or anything,” I exhale loudly, glad to have the room back to ourselves, and for the way his arms lull the monsters away. “Do I even want to know what you’ve told her?”

“I dunno, sumthin’ along tha lines o’ how ‘m in love with this girl, and have been fer awhile now,” he coos into my ear, zings sent down my spine when his lips brush my earlobe. The next words stop in their tracks on my tongue and my arms stop halfway to wrapping around him.

“Wait,” I begin lightly, taking a step back and wishing I could in this conversation. “You’re in love with me?” I say tentatively, the front of his blazer grounding me to this moment when my fingers grab onto it.

“I thought that you knew . . that it went without sayin’,” he giggles with cheeks resembling apples, both by shape and color. “I couldn’t be anythin’ other than that, Becks.”

“Huh,” I hum absently, admiring the threads of each white flower that climb from the sides of his slacks and all the way up to his lapels between my fingers.

I think I lose my grasp on them when his lips attach themselves to my forehead, and I just hope that he can’t feel the racing of my pulse all the way up there. That may not be possible, but to feel the way his lips curl against my skin is, and a whisper of a laugh.

“Reckon ‘s time we have a li’l argument over who’s been in love with tha other fer longer, innit?” Harry begins before a kiss brings an end to his words, their sound whisked away by a long silence that I fear. “Ya don’t hafta say it back y’know, I won’t-.”

“It’s not you,” I interrupt, my fear quickly being allotted to the same emotion that wipes his face clean. “The winner, I mean. I’ve been in love with you far longer, that’s for sure.”

“Can ya maybe not gi’mme a bloody heart attack there?” he giggles, clutching at his chest.

“What, I rarely get the chance to one up you, so I have to take it!” I exclaim and my eyes grow wide when I see the look on his face. One of his signature looks. A squeal tickles the air when he lifts me off of my feet and into the air. “Harry Styles!”

“What, Rebecca Ann?” he titters after a few spins, soon setting me down on my feet. My lips have only parted when he silences them with his, and I wonder how I went from dreaming a dream that I knew could never exist and now, getting to live it every second of every day.

“I think I fell in love with you when I saw you get off that lift,” I begin, looking away shyly, but he doesn’t let me get away with it, lifting my chin with his finger. He may let me get away with loads of shit, but no, not this time. “That night in Madley, at the hospital . . . but I think I had fallen in love with you a little bit loads of other times before, and not known it.”

“I swear, woman, tha amount o’ times ya make me fall fer you all over ‘gain,” Harry wheezes with damp eyes, shaking his head with the largest contradicting smile. “C’mere, my love . . Bloody hell, I think ya win this one, ‘cuz I can’t even rememba tha moment I fell fer you, ‘s been so many times fer me as well. Reckon I prolly told me mum each time they happened too.”

“Saturday should be fun then,” I joke from the corner of his neck, relaxing with my exhale against him.

“Yes, it shall. Until then, let’s get goin.’”

“What, where?” I giggle, finding the glitter in his eye that I have a hard time remembering them being without.

“‘s Tuesday, silly,” he titters with dimples shining, and face skewed into a confused question. “Let’s go get our tacos. ‘ll even buy ya extra churros.”

“That’s the only reason I’m going,” I joke, feeling him squeeze my hand. When I look over to him, I find those warm greens painting their happiness all over me.

“Don’t be bloody rude,” he chuckles with a shake of his head, holding the door open for me.

Although this impromptu ‘meeting the parents’ gig is eating away at my nerves, I can’t help but grow in excitement at the idea of meeting the very person I have to thank for him.

My God, I have my whole world to thank her for.

We had fallen into our own routine at work and quickly, but that was due to ‘push came to shove’ and there was no real way around it. Much to my mortification, Harry had told me that while in the hospital Myles had informed the rest of the legal team at the firm that we were dating, and so they knew. There wasn’t any way around it really, trying to explain why Harry was also gone for the same length I was from work, and suddenly. Regardless, Harry and I still avoided acting like we were dating, and at times I let it get to me, dwelling over the fact that everybody knew our secret. It was fun at first to keep, but it grew out of hand swiftly. It frustrated me often and I think it did the same for Harry, refraining from hugging when a team meeting went well or we won a case. The rules of the courtroom were far stricter, but it still upset me at times.

Like now, seeing how Amelia’s substitute was flirting it up with Harry, unbeknownst to him. It’s not like I could exactly walk up to them and tell her to stop, although it bothers me how her flirting goes through one of his ears and out the other while he shows her how to do something at the front desk.

“Fuck me,” I groan, giving up on waiting for him and going ahead with what I was doing. Blinking hard and filling my lungs with air, my opal necklace dances below my collarbones with every step.

I find that I have the room to myself, and as the copier beeps with each button that I press, I hum a song to myself. The documents sitting in my hands are whisked away by the large machine, a newer and larger one since my first time here. Thank God, because that thing was always having problems.

“I think somebody’s got a little crush on our boss out there,” somebody snickers from the doorway. My eyes flit over to find Jennings waltzing into the copier room, his horn rims perched on his long nose. Awkwardly, I look away and answer with a soft ‘mmhmm.’ I occupy myself with watching the machine spit out new sheets onto its bottom tray. “I hope you’re not too jealous,” he jokes with a loud laugh, but I don’t echo it. Why would I? Could you bring up anything more awkward or inappropriate to say to me, Jennings?

“I’m fine,” I answer gently, picking up the stack after the whirring sound finishes. Stepping to the side, I tap the stack against the black counter and slide open a drawer.

“Figure I owe you a congrats on your Employee of the Month recognition, that’s a rather big deal,” he continues, meandering through the wire shelves of supplies across the room from me.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” I return with emphasis in my voice, feeling out the lack of compassion in his. Clearing my throat, I dig around in the plastic tray set in the drawer until I grab a few large binder clips.

“I’ve worked here for years, and haven’t had the luck of getting it since they started it this year,” he remarks, shaking a box of pens that he plucked from the shelf.

“It’s only April, I’m sure you’ll have your chance,” I say slowly, separating my piles and tapping them against the counter until they’re neat and tidy.

“I dunno about that, I haven’t even made bloody partner yet here. You’ll probably make it before me, seeing as how you have an in with the boss,” Jennings nearly retorts, and I gulp hard, suddenly reminded of the iffy feeling I’ve always had about him. I can’t place the blame on myself though, because he’s given me good reason for it, and I hope that he isn’t about to give me more. “It’s a shame you lost your case last week though, I hope Harry wasn’t too upset with you, but I’m sure he couldn’t be mad at his little girlfriend. He would’ve been mad at Rose, or even me, but no, not you. Isn’t that right?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” I begin, the papers threatened between my suddenly clammy fingers.

“Excuse me? I’d say it is, I don’t want you giving the firm a bad name now, but it looks like your boyfriend can’t save you from everything.”

“What are you implying?” I demand curtly, turning around swiftly just in time to watch him slip a Macbook charger into his pocket.

“I thought you were supposed to be a brilliant lawyer from what I hear, Becky, so I’ll leave that one up to you, wouldn’t you say?” Jennings poses with a dark glint in his eye, raising one thick eyebrow at me. “Oh wait, maybe I’ll give you a little help, seeing as how you couldn’t even win the case of that ex-wife racking up debt in her ex-husband’s name . . How do I say it? Well, I find it rather unfair the special treatment you receive, wouldn’t you agree? No, I guess you wouldn’t, would you?” he snickers, the swing and fall of his shoulders and eyebrows being more than enough for me to see.

Turning back around, I hastily fasten the clips onto the stacks of documents for Harry’s new case, and well, mine too, much to somebody’s dissatisfaction. Excerpts from legal books, testimonies, and rough drafts of the argument. The tapping of a pen against the wire shelf gnaws at my ears, and accelerates the time bomb inside of me.

“I don’t receive any special treatment, because of Harry or from him,” I mutter through gritted teeth, gathering the stacks all into one final pile. “I’d say that you’re being out of line and that you need to stop while you’re ahead.”

“Or what, you’ll tell your big, bad, boss boyfriend? Nobody likes snitches, you should know that. Plus, I’m his friend and I’ve known him longer than you, so who would he believe?” he chuckles darkly, igniting the hairs on the back of my neck with his impending footsteps. “Don’t deny it, you do receive special treatment. You get out of meetings and trainings even, the firm pays for your lunch several times a week I’m sure, you get overtime when you want it, you got a free thousand-dollar laptop again, and I’m sure your reviews will come out just sparkling. Not to mention, still having a job after being gone all that time after your accident. Did I miss anything there, Becky?” he finishes, his snarky words slithering along my back and into my ears where his breath wafts over me.

“‘s everythin’ alright in here?” comes a voice from out of the blue. The three-level paper organizer sat in front of me blurs as my eyes widen. The ball in my throat is met with an unsuccessful gulp when I feel a hand on my arm. I shrink away from the touch before he can squeeze it.

“Oh yes, I was just congratulating Becky on her Employee of the Month recognition. She deserves it,” Jennings answers for us, voice boisterous with faux cheer.

“Becks?” Harry murmurs, cautiously touching my arm again and this time, I don’t run away from his touch. “Alright?” he whispers questioningly, the gentleness of his voice wills my eyes over to him. There’s a pang in my gut when I watch the emotion mirrored on his face - alarmed with fear and confusion. “Hey, what’s tha matter?” he probes, the warmth of his rings seeping through the thin fabric of my long sleeved blouse.

“H-He . . was saying this stuff to me- awful stuff, and . . ,” I trail off quietly, my eyes flitting to the sandy brown hair I see from behind Harry, watching and listening as well.

“What tha hell did ya say t’ her, Pete?” Harry questions, turning to face his colleague as he holds my elbow firmly.

“Nothing,” he almost laughs, and then he makes a sound as if something came to mind. “Okay, okay. I guess I upset her when I told her that I saw her nick one of the Macbook chargers the other day. I approached the subject gently, just letting her know that they’re eighty bucks a pop, and she can only have one here at-.”

“What, I did not! You’re the one who just stuffed one down your pants, you liar!” I scoff, spinning to face them both. “You did it when you were accusing me of getting special treatment from Harry!” I exclaim with my voice breaking in mid-sentence, the explanation soon growing wet.

“What?!” Harry breathes, shock coating his every syllable. “Pete, what in tha bloody fuck ‘s tha matter with you? Becks would never steal and- wait, yer accusin’ her o’ gettin’ treated special jus’ ‘cuz she’s datin’ me? Have ya fell off yer fookin’ rocker, mate? I don’t treat Myles any bleedin’ different fer bein’ me best friend all me life, I treat e’rybody here tha fookin’ same, if ya hadn’t noticed. I reckon ‘s none o’ yer damn business how I mentor her, and don’t forget who fookin’ hired you as well, mate, and who can fire you.”

“I just dunno why I’ve been here for how many bloody years as only a senior associate, mind you, and in walks her and-.”

“I don’t care what yer fookin’ problem ‘s, Pete, but maybe I would’ve if ya’d bloody brought it t’ me instead o’ takin’ it out on her. ‘m yer boss, mate, I coulda helped you, so what good was it t’ cuss her out ‘cuz ya feel like shit?” Harry interrupts defensively, and with a blink, I see the redness rising in their faces.

“Harry, please, let’s just go. I’m fine,” I beg, taking his hand and pulling on it. He doesn’t move an inch, and neither do his eyes from Jennings.

“I tried, if you hadn’t noticed, but you were always too fucking busy for me, weren’t you? ‘Cause apparently, the only people who can get your bleeding attention as of late are those who are sucking your prick,” Jennings shrugs matter of factly. The surprise morphing my features and shaking my body is nothing compared to the shift in Harry’s demeanor.

“Harry,” I begin when his fingers slip from mine. “No, don’t!” I exclaim, stepping forward and grabbing onto his arm, but my fingers only grasp at air.

“A li’l fookin’ jealous, are we? Would ya rather it be you suckin’ me dick?” he jests at Jennings who steps closer to him.

“Jealous of that? Fucking, hell no. I can’t believe you even call her a lawyer,” Jennings retorts, pushing his glasses off his nose and into his hair. “I see now why you hired her, she must be pretty fucking good at giving head and-.”

“Harry!” I almost shout, wanting to step forward and instead backing up when I watch his fist fly. A wrenched sound escapes my lips when I see it connect with Jennings’ face, but it shrinks in comparison to the tear that splits my heart when Harry’s knocked back by Jennings’ swing. “Stop it! Now!” I nearly scream through a curtain of tears, my throat burning. Only then, does Harry lift his head of messy curls to look at me, wiping his fist against his nose that comes back red.

Muttered curses fall from Jennings as he leaves hastily clutching his cheek, and I remain frozen until I see the blood gush from his nose.

“You idiot! What were you thinking?” I cry, rushing forward and surrounding his face with my hands.

“What was I thinkin’? I was thinkin’ I was standin’ up fer you, I wasn’t gonna let him say one mo’ nasty word ‘bout you, Becks. I could do with a thank you, y’know,” he sighs, eyeing the scarlet plummeting to the marbled floor with silent plops.

“Harry,” I sob with a dismissive shake of my head, brushing back his hair to find the shock of red skin surrounding his nose below his eye.

“Oh, baby, ‘m so sorry,” he huffs, grabbing a handful of tissues from a shelf and shoving them against his nose. At last, he yanks me into his arms and there I shed my tears into his cream button down that’s already marred by his sudden bloody nose. “I didn’t mean t’ frighten you, it jus’ happened so fast . . But I don’t regret it, standin’ up fer you . . I can’t believe tha mouth on him . . ‘m so sorry he said those things t’ you, none o’ them are true, I hope y’know.”

Sniffling, I move away and find his eyes that beg for me, “Don’t let what he said get t’ you fer one second, e’rythin’ he said was lies, Becks. Every li’l thing, I promise you that,” he says firmly, pulling away a strand of hair that sticks to my cheek slick with tears. “‘d never let sumbody hurt you like that . . never ever.”

“I haven’t even sucked your dick yet,” I giggle from beneath him, and then, can I start to relax when his giggle graces the air.

“Ya, ‘d rather we keep that info’ t’ ourselves, wouldn’t you?” he snickers with that breathy laugh I love so dearly. “Don’t need tha whole bloody firm knowin’ I haven’t even gotten me dicked properly sucked yet.”

“Hey!” I shoot back, slapping at his chest ever so faintly.

“‘m kiddin’, bug. Y’know I don’t care it hasn’t happened yet, e’rythin’ in good time,” he insists, pulling me back against his front. I relent, but remain with my eyes pointed skywards. “I mean it, don’t worry yer pretty li’l head ‘bout inconsequential shit like that, or what he said.”

“You’re still an idiot,” I sigh, caressing his cheek that tickles my hand with its stubble.

“Why, ‘cuz ‘ll have a bruised up face fer our lunch with Skye and her mum t’day, or fer brekky with mine?” he jokes with a grin half hidden by his handful of Kleenex.

“Yes, and no. Wait- you will. Harry!” I whine, only making him laugh against my hair when he kisses the top of my head. “No, you idiot, you’re not going to get it to stop bleeding like that. Sit down.”

“Yes, m’am. I always knew I had a thing fer in charge women,” he snickers with a click of his tongue, stealing a kiss from my cheek before dragging over a chair against the wall.

“Okay, give me the tissues. Thanks, now- No, you’ll only swallow blood that way. What, are you stupid?” I instruct, leaving him one to manage the nosebleed by himself as I fold up the rest. “Here, you need to hold them against your nose and with your other hand, pinch the bridge of your nose as you look down. Do that for, I dunno, five or ten minutes until it stops bleeding. Let me go and get you some ice for that shiner of yours.”

“‘m fine, Becks. Really. All I want ‘s fer you t’ stay,” he says, grabbing hold of my hand when I turn away to leave. His expressive eyebrows near his hairline when he raises them at me in a near dare, but all I can see is the man I love and those eyelashes I’m so jealous of. “And t’ apologize, even tho’ ‘m not even really sorry for what I did.”

“Apology accepted,” I concur sarcastically, stepping back to lean against the counter. “I’ll let you be an idiot this one time.”

“Hey, don’t get yer hopes up too high now,” the sound of his giggle floats away and then my eyes are lulled to our hands that he laces together with a squeeze.

“Thank you, Harry,” I tell him sincerely, finding those greens hidden amongst his obnoxious curls.

“You’re sure?” she asks in between the noises that sound like bubbles trickling from her lips.

“Yes, ‘m sure. Dunno how many times I hafta tell ya.”

“You know it’ll never be enough,” she giggles below me, her face screwed up in absolute happiness. “Harry!” she yelps, shoving at my chest weakly.

“I know it won’t, yer stubborn as a bloody bull, you are,” I tsk with a click of my tongue, her body jolting with every stroke of my fingers across her ribs. Chuckling, I back up and watch how the laughs still peel off of her lips. “What’re you laughin’ at now, hmm? ‘m not even ticklin’ you anymo’ and yer still laughin’, li’l one.”

The crinkles around her eyes remain and so does the divot in her left cheek that I love almost as much as her eyes, but not quite. Speaking of, those very blues open up and land on me with a glitter to them, only to flee when the chime of the doorbell rings throughout the house. I watch how the skin of her throat is disrupted by a nervous swallow, followed by the automatic twirling of her ring around her pointer finger.

“Coming!” I call behind me, glancing to the door and then her. The way her dark waves are splayed across the sofa cushions. The glittery opal that sits perfectly above the scoop of her maroon blouse. The pink seeping through in her cheeks that I could kiss until I taste their sweetness.

“You’re really sure, Harry?” Becks asks softly, her eyes wandering nervously to the front door and then me.

“Yes, ‘m absolutely positive she’ll love you. Now, take a deep breath and let’s go answer tha door.”

A small ‘okay’ greets the air as her fingers fall between mine that I reassuringly squeeze. My steps come to a halt in front of the cherry oak, but I’m not quite there. Looking up, my thoughts are confirmed when I see my arm outstretched holding onto her where she stands, much too far away.

“C’mere,” I laugh in a whisper, tugging on her arm until she arrives at my side. The smell of orange blossoms and vanilla flood my senses as I pull away from the forehead kiss.

“You know, she’s going to be mad, don’t you?” I pose, ghosting my thumb over the concoction of purple and blue painted below his eye.

“Hush, li’l one, I already have one mum. I don’t need anotha,” he chirps with a teasing wink, twisting open the door.

“What is this I’m going to be mad about?” a voice pipes up with a curious accusatory sound to their voice. “Harry Edward!” she exclaims, not even one foot in the door. “What’d you do to your beautiful face?”

“I uh, ran into a door. Y’know, my sunglasses were really dark and-,” he begins, but much to my surprise and happiness, his mother doesn’t let him get away with the terrible lie. I’m liking her already.

“Don’t lie to your mother, son,” she tuts with a shake of her head, lightly smacking the back of his head that he mutters an ‘ow!’ at. The oddly cold Spring day rushes in with her first steps, but my insides warm at the sigh she shares with me when our eyes meet. “I thought you were old enough to know better to avoid fist fights.”

“Pete started it, not me!”

“I don’t care who started it, you’re a grown man, Harry.”

“That’s what I tried to tell him,” I groan, watching him take her coat to hang in the closet beside the stairs.

“Bloody hell, I see you two are gettin’ on already. Who’s side are you on, anyways?” Harry scoffs, closing the dark cherry wood door.

“Yes, I see we are. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you, Becky. I’ll just blame it on me son keeping you away from me,” Harry’s mum croons, her lips painted with lipstick spreading into a cheery smile. Chuckling, I ignore Harry’s arguing ‘hey!’ as I step forward into her outreached arms. “I think I have a bone to pick with him, you’re prettier than he ever said you were.”

“So are you,” I chortle, picking up on the geranium and amber notes of her perfume before I step away to find her cobalt blue eyes smiling at me.

“I do like her!” she chuckles to Harry, squeezing my opposite arm that she still holds onto.

“What’d I tell ya?” Harry pipes up, nodding at me. “Two peas inna pod already, you lot are. Talkin’ shit ‘bout me and motherin’ me togetha in tha first bleedin’ minute ya’ve met,” he sighs, taking down three white plates from the cabinets that he reaches easily with his height.

“That’s good, I need somebody else here to mother you while ‘m away. I reckon it doesn’t help much when you’re too stubborn to avoid boyish fist fights,” she returns, turning to me with a joking look in her eyes. Our laughs echo the others as she leads me over to the oval wooden table on the other side of the kitchen island, against the sliding patio door. “Who better than your girlfriend and colleague?”

“I guess so,” Harry groans, pulling back a chair for her to sit, soon falling into the chair across from me. “Neither o’ you even let me get t’ tha introductions, you women and yer talkin,’” he grunts, pulling himself closer to the table. With a calming breath, he runs a hand through his hair and pushes up the sleeves of his olive green knitted jumper. “Mum, this ‘s me girlfriend, Becky, but I like t’ call her Becks. And bug, this ‘s me mum, Anne. Shall we finally have that brekky togetha we’ve been talkin’ ‘bout fer months?”

“Yes, let’s dig in,” Anne chuckles, a sliver of Harry’s song heard in her voice. “Oooo, ‘s this apple bread by the famous chef I’ve heard so much about?”

“Yes, she doesn’t disappoint, never ever,” Harry winks, licking a crumb off of his thumb after grabbing a slice of the bread. A pink sits in his cheeks that I’m sure is mirrored in my own, and perhaps greater. I look away with a small smile, shoveling the egg bake onto my plate. “Not in tha court room, with baking, or with how good o’ job she does takin’ care o’ me,” he muses with a glint in his eye and cheeks rounder than I’ve ever seen.

I go on and listen to the stories, I even help tell some of them. Some of them make me tear up, whether it be from laughing, the wetness in Harry’s, or the love shining through in his and in hers.

“I told ya so.”

“Yeah, when don’t you?” I bite back, and immediately regret it when I feel his fingers along my ribs, eliciting laughs from my lips.

“Hey, watch it, li’l one. I have you inna compromisin’ situation here, so ya betta watch yerself,” Harry giggles, the words tickling my ear. The sounds continue from my lips and I hear them shadowed in his, and how they play off of each other while his hands keep my stomach warm. “I told ya she’d love you, and she did. Couldn’t shutup ‘bout you at Gemma’s last night, ‘specially tha fact you gave her a whole loaf o’ yer apple bread. You made her bloody day, ‘m sure. Speakin’ of, ya ready t’ meet me sista properly fer lunch t’morrow?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I groan, the words whisked away with a sound that my lips, I sometimes think, hold just for him. His stubbly face is itchy against my temple, but he remedies it with soft pecks to the skin.

“You guess?!” he exclaims, squeezing me around the middle. My head knocks against his, and he keeps my fingers secure between his while the smells of greasy pizza and floor cleaner lull me with their familiarity. His argument dissolves into a soft chuckle muffled against my hair where he mouths kisses.

“You know who I wish you could meet?”

“Hmmm, who’s that, bug?” Harry replies. Gulping, my eyes fall away from the crowds of people mingling around at the their tables, sucking the last few drops from their soda or guzzling pints. The answer flees from my lips, but after I twirl it around my finger a few times, I think he knows after he nuzzles his head against mine. “I wish I coulda meet yer gran,’ too, y’know. I wish you coulda met my granddad as well. ‘m sad I didn’t get t’ meet yers eitha . . . You’ll have t’ come home t’ Cheshire one o’ these weekends and meet me Gran’ Clara- Claire, she likes t’ go by. She’s a real hoot and already knows ‘bout you, naturally. She reminds me loads o’ Skye’s mum- bloody hell, I see where Skye gets tha crazies from now.”

“I agree with you on that one,” I titter and he nods into my neck, but the sounds fall when he spins the ring around my finger before folding my hands inside of his own.

In a whisper against my cheek, he whispers words that take away the breath I didn’t know that I had left. “‘m so bloody glad that I met you, Becks, and that we’re here . . finally. Met me mum, met Skye’s tha other day, and meetin’ me sista t’morrow. Harper will be delighted t’ see you, I know, and tha baby ‘s gettin’ bigger e’ryday.”

I nod and any words I had wanted to say escape me with the squeal garnered by his fingers digging into my tummy, remedied by a kiss below my ear.

“You lot are fucking disgusting, y’know that, don’t you?” comes a voice with a disdainful scoff. “It’s been your turn for a good thirty seconds now, Ree. Get going, would you?!”

“I know, ‘s great, innit? Go on, babe. Show me how t’ get a strike,” Harry teases with a loud kiss to my cheek to annoy Robbie, pushing me off of his lap where his arms wrapped around me kept us arm. It’s drowned out by the sound of surprise I utter when he slaps my ass with his hand.

“My fricken God, you two are embarrassing me,” Robbie groans, walking past me to pick up his pint from the table, and taking a seat beside his muddy Wellies. Turning around in shock, I find Harry’s greens lit with a smirk that shines on his face. “C’mon, Ree, bowl already! You’re shit half of the time anyways, what’s the difference now?” he jokes and a loud scoff graces the air, much to Harry’s amusement.

Sighing, I step up to the little contraption that wheels forward Robbie’s glittery navy blue bowling ball. I lean over to grab my electric yellow one etched with a white ‘7’ and widen my eyes at Harry’s green ‘10.’ Threading my fingers into the three holes, my clown like shoes step onto the polished wood, and I try to remain cool and calm. Closing my eyes, I grimace at their teasing of me from behind, but Harry’s contagious breathy laugh propels me forward.

“Ya, that’s me girl! Three pins down, woohoo!” he shouts loudly in a squeaky and sarcastic voice, holding up his beer in a fake cheer. Shaking my head with red cheeks, I wait for my ball to return and to try again.

Slowly, I realize with the ball heavy in my hands and my score falling far behind theirs on the tv above, that just like any other time, I don’t care if I win or lose. This time is different, listening to how my boyfriend and my twin brother joke from behind me and laugh, their conversation quickly turning to football and then music.

Sometimes, I have a hard time believing this is a day in my life after everything, and it’s only one of the firsts.

A/N: Hello, friends! Thank you SO MUCH to those still reading, and also to new readers! Welcome, and I’m so glad you’re here! I’m so sorry that this blurb took awhile than I originally planned . . it boggles me how I spend basically every minute I’m not working and shadowing doing homework :/ I hope to have the next blurb out in two weeks, so I’ll keep you all posted! Enjoy and let me know what you think, please! I love you all and good luck with everything!

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