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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

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The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 26

Hannibal, Will and y/n host a dinner to put an end to everything

@dovahdokren @deadman-inc-bikeshop @lov3vivian @wisesandwichshark @scpdragon

Trigger warnings: PTSD, violence

"Hannibal, baby," You called down from the wine cellar. "Which one pairs best with the paella?"

"A Spanish white!" Will interjected.

You rolled your eyes, then looked at his shelf full of Spanish whites. "Thanks, Hannibal."

"You're the sommelier, [F/N]." Will shouted back. "Go with your gut!"

"Verdejo it is." You said to yourself, grabbing the high-shouldered bottle from the shelf.

You returned from the cellar and headed to the dining room, where Will was dutifully setting the table.

"Well aren't you the perfect little homemaker?" You commented, making sure he caught you eyeing his backside.

Will playfully snatched the wine from your hands. "We can't all be the breadwinners, can we, Ms. Restaurant Owner?"

You laughed, looking around at your triple-income house and accepting a kiss from your Will. You put your hands on his shoulders and broke the kiss.

"You know Hannibal isn't going to let you attend one of his famous dinner parties in a flannel, right?" You warned him, lips hovering a few inches from his face.

"Two guests is not a dinner party." Will corrected you. "I figured you'd know this after six months but, baby, Hannibal is always overdressed for everything."

"Better overdressed than the other way around, my treasure." Hannibal said, standing in the threshold. "Why don't you go slip in to that suit I bought you?"

Will threw his hands up. "Do you two just live to gang up on me? You know I can buy my own clothes, right?"

You scoffed. "Babe, you spent your last paycheck almost entirely at Bass Pro Shops-"

"And then we spent the day workshopping new seafood dishes for the restaurant with the fish I caught." Will shrugged. "You don’t get to benefit from it then complain."

You put up your hands in surrender. "Fair enough."

"So I don't make an ordeal out of this in front of guests," Hannibal said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out two small drawstring bags and gave one to each of you. "Happy six months, my darlings."

"Six month anniversary presents?" Will laughed. "What are we, high school students?"

"Do you not want it?" Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't say that." He mumbled.

You opened the bag and slid the contents into your hand. A beautiful solid white ring with ornate carvings tumbled out.

"It's beautiful." You smiled, sliding it on to your finger. "What is it?"

"A ring, my indulgence." Hannibal chuckled.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Sure, but what is it made of?"

He hesitated for a moment. "Ivory."

"Should I be concerned that you somehow know both of our ring sizes?" Will asked, admiring how his fit perfectly on his finger.

“I think you mean ‘thank you, Hannibal’.” You corrected him. “Even if it is a little uncanny.”

The doorbell rang. Hannibal threw a dish towel over his shoulder and pointed to Will.

"Go change." He ordered. "I will not have my guests seeing you in such an unsightly state."

"It's Jack and [F/N]'s friend." Will protested.

"Sure, I'll get the door." You said. "Gee, thanks [F/N], that would be so helpful!"

You opened the door with a smile.

"Agent Crawford!" You greeted, shaking his hand.

"Oh, please." He laughed. "Call me Jack."

"And this must be Bella." You said, offering his wife your hand. "Jack has told me all about you."

"So you're the infamous [F/N] [L/N]?" Bella accepted with a smile. "It's so nice to meet you."

Jack removed his hat and coat, then handed you a bag. "For you."

"You shouldn't have." You said, knowing immediately that it was wine. Then you pulled it out of the bag. Your eyes went wide and your jaw hung open.

"Holy shit you really shouldn't have." You repeated.

Jack shrugged and smiled smugly. "I pulled some strings in evidence. Figured you might want it."

You threw your arms around his neck, keeping a tight grip on the 1907 Heidsieck Monopole.

"Hey, do I get a hug?" Said another voice.

Charissa waved to you from the porch.

"Holy shit, hey!" You opened your arms. Charissa jumped into your embrace and squeezed you. She'd always hugged you tighter after seeing you half-alive in a hospital bed with your seldom-seen lovers at your bedside.

"Jack, this is my friend Charissa Rodriquez." You introduced. "She was the one who sent you the address."

"So you're 'tip', huh?" Jack's face lit up. "The FBI owes you a debt of gratitude, Ms. Rodriquez."

"Tip?" You said, looking at both Jack and Charissa.

"The address we received came from an obvious burner email." Jack explained. "We thought it was from Chase, so we arrived with a ton of backup anticipating an attack. Turns out we needed it."

Charissa shrugged. "I thought you could never be too careful."

"Well, intentional or not," Jack said. "You helped us a lot."

"You're Charissa Rodriquez?" Will said from the staircase. He wore a grey suit with a dark blue dress shirt that fit him scarily well considering he hadn't even tried it on.

"Enchanté, monsieur." Charissa said, eyeing him up with a hungry smile. "You must be Will."

"Down, girl." You crossed your arms. Your tone was playful, but had a slight threatening bite. "He's all mine."

"Not all yours." Hannibal corrected, entering the scene to finally greet his guests. "Agent Crawford, Bella, Ms. Rodriquez, welcome."

"Wow." Charissa said, dumbfounded. "I feel like I'm meeting a celebrity."

"Oh, surely the rumors unraveled after the old place went out of business." Hannibal answered. "There are far more interesting things to talk about than myself."

"Very few, but they do exist." Jack commented.

Charissa folded her arms. "Like the bartender who stood up to a psychotic cult leader and found two wonderful boyfriends to take care of her?"

"I've heard that one!" You added. "I hear she bought the restaurant for next to nothing after it became a stigmatized property."

Carissa narrowed her eyes at you. "I still cannot believe you told him."

You shrugged. "I think it all worked out."

Hannibal gathered everyone around the table and tasked you with pouring the wine.

"Surely you know why I've invited you here tonight." He asked, taking a seat at the head. "The high courts have ruled Chase's death a suicide."

"Cheers to that." Will said, raising his glass.

"Nobody actually believes it was a suicide." Jack clarified, trying not to look at you too obviously. "But the jury didn't want to dignify him with a proper homicide ruling."

Charissa glared at you, not trying to not be obvious. "Only one person at the table knows for sure."

You shook your head. "I hit my head really hard, the details are just not there."

"But [F/N]'s DNA was on the gun." Bella added.

"But not her fingerprints." Jack said. "It was saliva. We think he tried to choke her with his fingers before reaching for the gun."

"Did you ever find that finger?" Charissa said like it was nothing.

Jack, who was more interested in the paella than the conversation, shook his head. "Never."

Your eyes widened. You left the finger with the gun, you were sure of it.

"Must we discuss the gory details over dinner?" Will said, sensing your discomfort.

Charissa rested her chin in her hands. "Would you rather talk about your three-person couple?"

"I distinctly remember spitting the finger out." You insisted.

"We found so many pieces of bone in that room," Jack continued. "It's genuinely of far less concern than the dynamite lining the walls and bunker full of cocaine, stolen medical supplies and baby coffins."

"And the stained glass window made of human skin." You added.

"You know a case is fucked when a lost finger is of the least concern." Charissa commented.

"The important thing is that it's over." Will said. "He's dead and [F/N] is alive."

Bella smiled at you. "God really is looking out for you, [F/N]."

You forced a smile, telling yourself that Bella had the best intentions. But her good intentions revived Chase's voice in your head, which was a voice you'd spent the last six months trying to forget. You tightened your grip on your utensils to relieve some tension, but it didn’t work.

The table went quiet, waiting for Bella to realize her mistake. Will put his hand over yours and looked into your eyes. He mouthed the word 'breathe' and some similar affirmations.

Hannibal raised his head, knowing the light casting shadows on his face intimidated people. "Ms. Bella, we generally don't talk religion here."

She covered her mouth with her fingertips. "I'm so sorry, [F/N], I just meant-"

You put your hand up. "Please, just don't."

"The important thing is that [F/N] recovered forty missing women and reunited them with their families." Will said. "And there was no divine presence involved in that."

You smiled softly. "I'll drink to that."

"And you'll also be happy to know that the woman who assisted him in luring all those girls into the cult," Jack added. "She's looking at twenty-five to life without parole."

"What about the babies?" Bella piped up. "Weren't there, like, at least twelve newborns?"

"That's where the department of family and child services took over." Jack answered. "Whether the biological mothers kept them or put them up for adoption is out of our hands, but I do know each child was thoroughly examined and are all up to date on their shots."

"Seriously, though." Charissa interjected. "How do you misplace an entire finger?"

"It's one of the easier appendages to misplace." Hannibal answered, speaking with experience. "I heard it wasn't just the one that you couldn't find."

Jack looked up from his plate, confused. "Now how did you know about that?"

"The man took a 12 gauge bullet directly to the hand, Jack." Hannibal said with a small chuckle. "It's more likely you find no fingers than any at all."

"The bones will turn up somewhere." Jack said, resignedly.

He just happened to say the word “bones” as you were glancing at your ring.

You smiled a little too wide. “They just might.”

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x you #hannibal x reader #hannibal nbc #the sommelier #will graham #will graham x reader #will graham x you #hannibal x you x will #hannigram x reader #hannibal x reader x will

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atths--twice · 3 years

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Perfect Planning

A late night surprise visit leads to a wonderfully fluffy morning.

I had an idea for a story a couple of days ago. A sweet fluffy idea that made me smile. I had to write it down and I hope you enjoy it. 💕

Scully shut the door quietly, locking it behind her as she set her bags down and took off her boots. It was dark and quiet in the apartment. She smiled as she set her boots beside the coat rack.

Picking up her bags, she stepped soundlessly across the room in her stockinged feet. Pushing open the door to the bedroom, she stepped inside with a silent yawn.

Opening the closet, she hung up her suit and placed her bag inside, closing the door with a soft click. Glancing at the bed, she smiled before walking to the bathroom and closing the door. She quickly readied for bed, yawning repeatedly, so incredibly tired.

Turning off the light, she opened the door and walked across to the room to the wardrobe. Taking out a shirt from inside a drawer, she took off everything but her underwear and slipped the shirt over her head, breathing in the scent and closing her eyes.

“Hmm,” she hummed softly, and turned around, yawning again.

Pulling the blankets back, she laid down and covered up, snuggling into the bed and then scooting closer to the man lying within it.

He was sleeping on his back, undisturbed by her moving around the room and slipping into bed beside him. He was warm and as she drew flush against him, he hummed.

She smiled as she raised his arm from his chest and laid her head upon it, his arm now on her back. Sighing, she closed her eyes, her arm wrapping around him.

He snored lightly and then cleared his throat, his arm pulling her closer, his hand absentmindedly rubbing her back.

“Scully?” he asked sleepily and she smiled as she hummed in the affirmative. “What? What are you doing here? What time is it?”

“It’s late, Mulder,” she said quietly, scratching her fingernails gently on top of the soft shirt he wore.

“Weren’t you going to your mom’s?” he asked, shifting to hold her closer, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before he yawned. “I figured you’d be staying the night.”

“I am, just not at my mom’s,” she stated and he chuckled softly, his fingers running through her hair.

“Ask a stupid question…” he said and she laughed before sighing, her bare leg hooking over his pajama clad one. “I feel a bit overdressed. If I’d have known you would be staying over…”

“I’m exhausted. I just want to sleep.” She snuggled closer and breathed in his scent. “And I knew my bed would be cold. And lonely.”

“Hmm…well I’m happy to be your bed warmer.” He kissed her head again and she hummed, kissing his chest.

“Glad to hear it.” She yawned, her eyes heavy and body tired.

“Night, Scully.”

“Mmm… night….”

She was asleep before she could finish her sentence.

_______________

She woke in the early light, the smell of fresh coffee in the air, and the bed empty. Stretching and rolling onto his side, she yawned and sat up, heading to the bathroom.

Coming out, she walked to the kitchen without changing, only wearing his shirt. The collar of it hung off her shoulder, his shirts far too big for her, but she loved wearing them. Loved being engulfed in his scent and wearing something that had also touched his skin.

He was in the kitchen, staring at the coffee pot that had just finished brewing. She watched him smile, unaware she was standing in the doorway, and she smiled as she took a deep breath.

God, he was handsome… and was she ever in love with him. He made her stomach flutter at the most inconvenient times, but right now… right now she more than welcomed it.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Jesus,” he breathed, looking over at her. “I didn’t see you. Or hear you.”

“Not surprised. You were staring quite intently at that coffee pot. Should I leave the two of you alone?” She pointed out the door, asking silently if she should wait in the other room.

He laughed and shook his head, stepping closer to her. Tugging at his shirt she was wearing, he pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. She closed her eyes as she put her arms around his waist, her stomach fluttering like mad.

“I was thinking,” he whispered and she shivered. “Thinking that you were sleeping in my bed, unexpectedly I might add, and how it meant I needed to make a full pot of coffee this morning. Not just the usual half I make for myself.”

“And that made you smile that way?” she whispered back, the beat of his heart under her ear causing her own to quicken.

“How was I smiling?”

“Like you had fallen in love with that coffee pot.”

He chuckled and pulled back, both of them smiling happily. Shaking his head, he stroked her cheek, his thumb brushing so softly across it, her eyes closed of their own volition.

“No,” he breathed and she opened her eyes. “Not in love with the coffee pot.” He held her gaze and her mouth went dry, hearing what he was not saying.

“Hmm…” she hummed, nuzzling into his hand. “I’ve always liked that coffee pot. It’s gotten us through a lot of long nights.”

“So it has. But… falling in love with inanimate objects? I may be spooky, but I’m not that spooky.” She laughed and he smiled, his thumb still caressing her cheek softly. “Not in love with the coffee pot.”

“No?”

“No.” He brought his thumb to her lips and she kissed it. “There’s this petite redhead who sneaks into my bed, her skin soft and warm, who looks better in my shirts than I ever will. She sleeps like the dead sometimes, but I know that a good cup of coffee will bring her around.” He smiled as she blinked back the tears in her eyes and took a deep breath, his thumb once more stroking her cheek.

“That’s why I was smiling,” he whispered. “I was looking forward to that time in bed, before our day began and she had to leave, going home to get ready for the day.”

“Mulder…” She sniffled, shaking her head as she let out a ragged breath.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Not the coffee pot.” She let out a small laugh and then choked on a sob, tears falling down her cheeks.

“I… God, I love you too,” she whispered back and he smiled, bending his head and kissing her gently. She placed a hand on his cheek and gripped his upper arm with the other, his arms pulling her closer.

Breaking from the kiss. foreheads pressed together, they both breathed deeply, words unspoken but felt nonetheless. She smiled and pulled back, caressing his face and shaking her head. He smiled back, turning his head to kiss her palm.

“So… about that coffee…” she teased and he laughed softly with a nod. He poured their coffees and they carried them to his room, getting back under the covers, the bed still slightly warm.

Talking and snuggling, led to kissing, their coffees forgotten until his alarm went off. Looking at her, he sighed and shut off the alarm. He kissed her again and started to rise from the bed.

“Not yet,” she said quietly and he frowned. “You think I came here last night on a whim? Didn’t have this planned out?” She pulled him back toward her with a grin.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying… that a good Scout is always prepared,” she said, her legs wrapping around him, her hands creeping under his shirt. “Suit, heels, makeup, curling iron… all waiting in your closet.”

“Hmm… I’m not sure they’ll fit me, but if it buys us more time, I’m all for seeing how it goes.”

She laughed into his mouth as he kissed her, feeling happier than she had been in a long time.

When they left nearly two hours later, he locked the door, as she held her bags. He smiled as he put his keys in his pocket and reached for her free hand, interlocking their fingers together.

In the elevator, she dropped her bags, pulling him close to kiss him, much to his surprise, causing her to laugh at the look on his face. He picked up her bags and they walked to her car, putting her things in the backseat.

“Not the coffee pot,” he whispered, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing her fingers.

“Or the coffee,” she replied and he smiled with a nod. They stared at one another and then she nodded, taking her car keys from her pocket.

He kissed her fingers again, let go of her hand, and turned to walk to his car. She smiled as she watched him and then got into her car.

“Not the coffee pot,” she whispered as she started the car, laughing quietly as she shook her head, her stomach fluttering once again.

#xf fanfic #msr #the x-files #happy #fluff #fluff and humor #sleeping over #sleeping in his clothes #cuddling and snuggling #morning together #love #so damn happy

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gukieoppa · 4 years

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not again | pt.1

➢ summary: he wanted a challenge, a good, innocent fuck, so why did his heart race at the sight of her?

➢ genre: romance, following angst and fluff, (as of now) no nsfw planned, college au

➢ pairing: fuckboy!jungkook x reader

➢ warnings: cursing, fluff, mentions of sex, body image insecurities

➢ note: i did this instead of homework and paying attention to class lmao. also it’s only 1.55k so i’m sorry if you wanted a longer chapter but expect short chapters from me because i’m not an excellent writer. i also decided to post this today because i’m going on trip to the beach for three days and i don’t know when i’ll have time to write. oof.

← teaser & pt.2 →

◇ ◇ ◇

Ever since you met Jeon Jungkook, you couldn’t get him out of your mind. His face was the only thing you could see when you closed your eyes. You finally understood why he was so popular, but that didn’t mean you would associate yourself with him even further.

Truthfully, you didn’t go to the library after you talked to Jungkook. You went straight back to your dorm, catching a glimpse of his figure as you walked to the building. His figure, though, wasn’t alone. A silhouette of, what you assumed to be, a girl was beside him, their lips locked. You grunted and felt sickened by the sight, reminding yourself that it was better to have distance.

Jungkook, on the other hand, wanted to get closer to you, but he was afraid. Evidently by his title, he didn’t do relationships, but when it came to you, he felt something different: a feeling of need and possessiveness. That was why, when you were out of his sight, he pulled the closest girl who was ogling him to the nearest bathroom.

A good fuck was the only thing Jungkook felt he could cope with.

◇ ◇ ◇

Park Hyejin: you loved to hate her. She was your dorm mate, best friend, and so-called stylist. She’d always wanted to major in fashion, but her parents never allowed her, saying it wasn’t a stable job choice. That led her into the business major and to meeting you.

◇ ◇ ◇

You saw a brunette sitting on a bench, crying her eyes out. Seeing as you had just had a pretty shitty day as well, you approached her.

“Sky looks nice,” you commented, standing beside the bench with your arms crossed.

The sky was plain. Nothing but smooth, grey clouds filled the sky. Though the sky itself was dull, the red and orange leaves made up for it. The autumn leaves desperately hung onto the tree branches, some blown off at the slightest breeze.

You heard the girl let out a choked laugh, “Sure does.”

“Bad day?” You asked, looking over at her. She nodded, her brunette hair bouncing at the movement.

She wore a cream, knit cardigan atop of a black mock neck that was tucked into a brown, plaid, pleated skirt. Her shoes were basic combat boots, but they finished the outfit with a punch.

“Aren’t you a little overdressed to be sulking on campus?” You teased, seeing as you were only in an oversized hoodie and sweats.

She let out a quiet sigh, “I guess, but what better way to display my fashion if I can’t pursue it?”

“May I give some feedback on the outfit?” You asked, feeling as if her outfit was missing a piece.

The girl sat up, improving her posture, “Please do.”

Your hand rested on your hip, “Though the overall outfit is gorgeous and much better than I could ever put together, I feel like there’s something missing.” Your finger rested on your chin as you thought. Then, it came to you, “A hat! Yes, that’s what's missing. Specifically, a beige beret. If you don’t like hats, though, you could put in those long hair clips things on the side of your head. Know what I mean?”

She perked up at your suggestion, “That’s actually a great idea! Are you secretly into fashion?”

That made you laugh.

“If I were into fashion, I wouldn’t wear the same pair of sweats every other day,” she grimaced in disgust.

“I should style you, then,” she smiled.

“I’ll have to think about it,” you suddenly realized that the pair of you hadn’t properly introduced yourselves. “By the way, I’m Y/N L/N. You are?”

“Park Hyejin,” she smiled and stuck out her hand for you to shake. You shook her hand, a warm smile on both of your faces.

◇ ◇ ◇

“You talked to Jungkook? Jeon Jungkook?” She laughed loudly.

“Yes, I talked to him, but he approached me first,” you frowned at the girl you called your best friend.

“Doesn’t matter! You still talked to him,” she smirked, “So, how was it? Talking to the Jungkook?”

“Quite boring, not going to lie. We just made small talk, and, I kid you not, after talking for about five minutes, he suddenly said that he needed to leave,” you said, an unimpressed look plastered onto your face.

“Only five minutes? You must’ve been boring,” she snorted.

You glared at her, “Me? Boring? Never, but I did see him devouring some girl’s face when I was coming back to the dorms.”

“Damn, he moves fast,” the two of you shared a mutual laugh.

◇ ◇ ◇

Jungkook was already on his third bottle of beer when Jimin burst into the house, whining about the lack of sex he had because of homework.

Park Jimin was one of Jungkook’s closest friends, apart from Kim Taehyung. Jimin also enjoyed one night stands, but he never went to the extent of Jungkook. Instead of spending every Friday night partying and getting drunk off his ass, Jimin would occasionally spend his time at the dance studio practicing.

“Just pick up a random girl,” Jungkook slurred.

Jimin looked over at his intoxicated friend, “Drinking already? What happened?”

Jungkook let out a sarcastic laugh, “What do you mean? Can’t I drink when I want?”

“Alright, so this isn’t about that girl I saw you talking to this afternoon,” Jungkook’s head snapped over to look at the ash grey haired man.

“What?” The brunette seethed.

“Haven’t seen you talk to a girl like that in a while,” Jimin sighed, “What’s up? You know you can tell me.”

“Just leave me alone, hyung,” Jungkook groaned.

“She'll be good for you,” Jimin whispered before leaving the maknae to himself.

◇ ◇ ◇

“Taehyung,” you shouted, jogging over to your friend and study buddy. You hopped onto his back, arms wrapping around his torso, eliciting an “oof” from him.

“Y/N/N,” he looked over his shoulder to smile at you.

“How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while,” you pouted.

“We literally saw each other like 5 days ago,” he said in disbelief.

“That’s 5 days too long.”

You hopped off of the blonde’s back and walked in front of him, “Hyejin dressed me up again,” he let out a small laugh, “Hey! What do you think? The outfit itself is gorgeous, but on me, it looks like, well, it just looks bad. I feel like I’m a walking potato.”

You were very self-conscious about your body, seeing as your best friend had the body of a model. It wasn’t that you didn’t go to the gym and work hard to have your desired body, it was that your expectations became harder to achieve as each day passed.

“If you’re a walking potato, then what are the other girls? Moving trash cans?”

You gasped and slapped his arm, “You can’t say that! That’s rude.”

“I’m only speaking the truth,” he huffed, “I can’t deny it. You look fucking hot in that outfit,” he bit his lip and let his eyes roam your body.

“Ey! Eyes up here, buddy,” you slapped the side of his head lightly, earning a chuckle from him. “But seriously, are you sure I don’t look fat?”

“Y/N/N, you’re not fat. You’re gorgeous on the inside and out. I’m being completely honest right now,” you looked at your feet, “You need to treat yourself better. You don’t see all the jealous glares girls send your way because you always take the breath away from other guys.”

You gave him a weak smile, “Thanks, Tae. Love you.”

“Love you, too, princess,” he teased.

Laughing and shaking your head, you grab his arm, “Do you have time to help me study tonight?”

“Study?” He smirked, “What kind of studying are you talking about?”

You gagged and pushed him away, “Never mind! I can study on my own.”

“No, wait! Come back, babe,” he chased after you as you ran away from him.

“Be gone,” you say as you get into a fighting stance.

Then in perfect sync, you both yell, “Thot!”

◇ ◇ ◇

Hand in hand, you and Taehyung approached the double story home.

“Fair warning, it might be messy on the inside,” Taehyung spoke up.

“You live here?” You asked, flabbergasted.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “But I have two roommates who, by the way, are my best friends. They’re almost always horny, though.”

“Aren’t you always horny?” You smirked.

“Would you like to find out?” He winked, nudging your shoulder with his.

Your nose scrunched in disgust, “Gross,” he laughed, “We have work to do and not a lot of time, so let’s get it!”

You skipped over to the door, waiting for your friend to unlock the door for you. When he reached where you were, he pulled the door open without unlocking it.

“You don’t lock the door? That’s so stupid,” you scolded him.

“Oh hush. My roommates are probably home already,” he spoke as he walked into the house.

The smell of beer stung your nose, and you winced in disgust. You looked around for the source of the odor to find bottles of finished beer sitting on a table. Beside that table, though, was the culprit responsible for the placing of the empty bottles.

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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years

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Dr. Chilton Hates Camping [NSFW]

K!nktober 2020 Kink Bingo!: Blowjobs

For @thatesqcrush’s kink bingo!

Because for some reason this picture always makes me think Frederick is packing to go camping, and he would look exactly this miserable if he was.

1,671 words

Feathery tops of pine trees swayed blue-green in a gentle northern breeze off the lake, the late summer air buzzing with a chorus of insects and birds. Golden light cast a hazy glow over your backcountry campsite as the sun began to sink in the sky. It was beautiful and serene. Perfect, even.

For the number of fancy galas and boring dinners Dr. Chilton dragged you to, it seemed only fair that he tolerate going camping.

“Gah! Die, you blood-sucking fiend!” Chilton shrieked, and a smacking sound echoed off the lake. He grunted. Heavy, annoyed footfalls paced across the camp.

That was your first mistake—thinking Dr. Frederick Chilton shared your notion of “fairness” or the ability to tolerate things with fewer than five stars. All day since backpacking to the primitive campsite he complained there were rocks in his shoes. He was tired. His bag was too heavy.

A small fire crackled in the center of a bare clearing in the trees near the lake shore. You dropped a larger log onto the tinder as the flames grew hungry enough to bear it, and excitedly rifled through a stuff sack for the makings of s'mores you’d packed.

There was a hissing noise behind you, and you choked on the bitter chemical air, covering your mouth as Chilton’s nuclear cloud of bug spray wafted over to you.

“Can you not spray that upwind of me, please?” you coughed.

He glared at you miserably and swatted another mosquito.

“This is not a fair trade. The things I bring us to are enjoyable. They are civilized, and... indoors!” Swat! “It is freezing, and—and damp, and these damned bugs want to drain me like a phlebotomist in training!” Swat!

“Sit by the fire,” you suggested. “It’s warm and dry, and the smoke repels bugs.”

“It does a better job repelling my lungs.” He stood taller and temperamentally fussed with the buttons of his wool peacoat (because why would he have worn sensible technical gear when he could look stylish). “If you need me... I shall be inside! Waiting until tomorrow when we can leave!” He turned on his heel and stormed into the small, orange tent, and gave his best effort at slamming the nylon zip-up door.

You speared a fat marshmallow onto the end of a stick and sat by the fire, making a s’more while grumbling to yourself about what a baby he was being. This could have been a nice trip if he wasn’t so—ugh!

By the time you finished the crunchy melty treat, you felt much better. It got your blood sugar up, anyway. Sighing, you followed him into the tent.

Chilton had his reading glasses on and was squinting at the glowing screen of his phone as he held it in the air trying to get service… which clearly was not working. You were way off the grid.

The tent flat unzipping caught his attention, and he gave you such a pathetic look as you ducked inside. His always-perfect hair was droopy where it usually stuck up and fluffed up where it was usually slicked down.

“It is damp and cold in here too,” he whined. “And the floor! The floor is lumpy. How will I sleep?”

Your heart softened at the sight of him. He was just so adorable it made your cheeks burn. Crawling onto the sleeping bag he was sitting on, you reached out and gingerly plucked a twig from his hair.

His eyes widened in mortification, and he quickly patted down his head for any other horrible bits of nature that might have latched onto him. “This is not my idea of fun,” he said.

“Well, I’m happy that you tried it for me. Really, I’m impressed you actually came.”

His eyes darted down to your lips, suddenly aware of how close you were sitting, and one cheek twitched briefly into almost a smile. “You wanted to do this,” he said gently. Of course he was going to come.

You leaned forward to close the distance and kissed him. His eyes shut and he moaned softly into your mouth, his frazzled, exhausted, itchy body locking onto you as source of comfort like a heat-seeking missile.

“You taste like chocolate,” he murmured, lips breaking away just far enough to breathe your air, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Have you ever had s’mores?”

“Of course I have,” he answered, a little offended at the implication. He was not so sheltered and elitist to have never roasted a marshmallow. “Not since I was a child…”

“I can make you one. Or if you come out, we can sit by the fire and make them together.”

He thought about it. You had straddled onto his lap, and your body heat was all the more enticing against the annoyingly wet air and cold floor. He was feeling a little less awful about the whole situation.

“But first…” you purred, hand running down the front of his shirt, continuing lower, “I was wondering how I could thank you. Since you’re doing this for me… maybe I can do something for you?”

He inhaled sharply, Adam's apple bobbing as your hand reached the front of his pants, searching between his legs. His eyes, as blue-green as the pines, fixated onto yours, but then rapidly blinked and darted around his surroundings.

“You want to do that outdoors?”

“We’re inside a tent.”

And yet he could hear squirrels chittering as if they were right inside the tent with them. The thin nylon was hardly a barrier at all, and it all felt a bit shockingly exhibitionist. But then, no one was around for miles apart from birds and squirrels who could see or hear you. The devilish idea stirred him that he could fuck you right out in the open if he wanted, like two wild animals rutting in the woods.

Exhaling a deep, breathy growl, he grabbed your face and pulled you back into a burning, fiery kiss. You grinned as he broke it, eyes still burning into you as he pushed you down to his belt.

He leaned back on his elbows, taking the passive role and letting you unbuckle his pants and slip his cock out of his underwear. He drew a sharp, quick breath in through his teeth as your tongue made contact with the tip of his head, and let it out long and easy and shuddering as the wet warmth of your mouth engulfed him. You nursed his semi-soft cock, enjoying being able to hold all of him in your mouth at once so easily, sucking and teasing it, feeling his arousal grow—his pulse getting stronger, throbbing under your tongue as his cock lengthened.

When he finally reached his full, exquisite hardness, he was too big to take in his entirety without choking. You pumped his shaft with your hand, bobbing in his lap as he let out helpless little whimpers, stroking your hair tenderly. He was always vocal in bed, but especially when he was feeling needy. He really needed to be comforted now, and you relished every shiver and moan of pleasure that told you you were doing a good job.

His fingers spasmed reflexively, pulling your hair as you took him deeper, opening your throat until you couldn’t breathe. Your eyes watered with the effort, but it turned you on feeling how much he loved it. You wanted to please Frederick so much he’d remember this trip fondly for a long time. You worked him with everything you had, twisting your hand around his shaft as you pumped it, flicking your tongue over the underside of his cock, stroking his balls, and hollowing your cheeks as you sucked him into oblivion, listening to his gasps of pleasure grow louder as he came completely undone.

His eyes squeezed closed and he threw his head back. You felt his abdominal muscles tense and twitch, and at last he could not hold his hips still and passive, and they began to jerk up into your mouth, pulsing at a rapid and shallow pace. You matched his tempo, bobbing faster on his cock, and within three shallow thrusts he shook and came with a forceful whimpering cry of your name. His hips kept pulsing and twitching as hot, salty cum flooded your tongue.

He fell back on the sleeping bag, panting. You held him in your mouth until you were sure you had licked him clean, then buttoned him back up.

He watched you lick your swollen, shiny lips with satisfaction, admiring your beauty and your skill at making him feel… amazing. It still surprised him sometimes when he stopped to think about it—that you had chosen him. Out of anyone in the world, he was the one lucky enough to have you. It really was incredible.

“I begin to understand how my primitive ancestors got by,” he hummed.

You laid yourself next to him and he happily made room for you to curl up under his arm, wriggling as you settled beside him. He was so warm, like a furnace. Funny and charming. Overdressed. Wickedly smart. God, you loved him. The woods were the last place he should be, you laughed to yourself at your own foolishness in dragging him there. He was not at all the masculine adventure type. There was no hidden rugged side deep down waiting to spring out. But it made you want to take care of him all the more. Your stuffy, helpless, whiny, suit-wearing, scotch-sipping Frederick, who braved the wilderness just to please you.

You kissed him again, warm and tender in his arms. He smiled, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Come on,” you sat up and crawled to the front of the tent, beckoning him. “Douse yourself in bug spray, and lets sit by the fire, stuff ourselves with s’mores, and watch the sun set over the mountains.”

“I suppose...” he considered it, eyes narrowed cautiously, “it does not sound that horrible.”

#Frederick Chilton #Frederick Chilton x reader #Raúl Esparza #Kinktober #Hannibal #smut #smutfic #my writing #I WROTE NON-BURNED CHILTON FOR ONCE!! YAAAY!#I've been on a bit of an angsty post-canon kick lately eh?#I ALSO!!!#WROTE!!!#A ONE SHOT!!!!#FLAWLESS VICTORY #(not really edited forgive me)#thatesqcrush kink bingo

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freckledoriya · 4 years

Text

“dead girl walking” (izuku midoriya x reader fic)

WARNINGS: smut (18+), mentions of alcohol, aged-up character

SUMMARY: The number one villain has given you a death notice. How will you spend your last hours to live? (Inspired by the song “Dead Girl Walking” from the musical Heathers).

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | ask box

TAGLIST: since this is smut, I didn’t put my usual taglist. if you’d like to be notified when I post spicy content, let me know!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is my first time really writing smut so I apologize ahead of time if it’s bad!! thank you to everyone that’s been really encouraging about me doing this, especially @gallickingun 💕

The chilly night air passes through your spine like an ice cube going down your back. It has only been an hour since you received your death notice from the city’s number 1 villain, the words “tomorrow, 8AM, you’re dead” scribbled in ink on a piece of folded paper. Since receiving the threat, you did your heroic duties: reported the incident to police and strategized how to take down this villain. You were confident in your abilities as a hero, but the gnawing thought that this might be your last night alive would not rest. After all, every hero in the city that received this death notice previously had fallen victim to the villain’s deadly ways. From a purely statistical standpoint, you were a dead girl walking.

So several shots of strong alcohol later, here you stood outside an apartment, home to the number 1 hero, Deku, a.k.a, Izuku Midoriya. Izuku worked for the same hero agency that you did, and since joining, the two of you became quick friends. And that’s all you saw him as for a long time. A friend. But as patrol partners, it wasn’t uncommon for you to be witness to his many fangirls that came with the territory of being the number one hero. When you started to notice yourself feeling a twinge of jealousy as one of them shamelessly flirted with him, you knew things were going south.

Ever since that first time, you couldn’t help but steal glances and “incidental” touches during your patrol rounds. Izuku Midoriya had captured your heart, no doubt about it. Maybe it was the way that he so selfishly put himself before others, or the sheer amount of passion he had for being the best hero possible. When you thought about it, his passion is what you found most attractive in him. Not that the luscious green waves, adorable freckles, and beautifully sculpted body didn’t do it for you, but his passion... if he could have that much passion for doing his job, you could only imagine the kind of passion he would have for a significant other. And the amount of passion he’d have during… other things.

You couldn’t help but have those sinful thoughts when it came to Izuku. He was so wonderfully naive. You often took joy in seeing how much you could make him blush and stutter when you’d say slightly suggestive things (he practically choked to death when you commented on how well his new hero costume fit him in certain areas). But at the same time, you’d have to stop yourself from drooling when watching Midoriya fight, seeing how tough and almost feral he’d get. Both things made you want to dominate and be dominated by the hero.

So after your fifth (or sixth?) shot, you realized that dying without making that fantasy a reality would be a crime. And heroes are supposed to fight crime, right?

You contemplated this as you climbed up the stairs to his apartment and knocked softly on the door, wobbling back and forth slightly as the alcohol coursed through your veins. Hearing footsteps approaching from inside, you start to wave to the door’s peephole, knowing that he was way too cautious to just open up the door to anyone so late at night.

The door creaks as he cracks it open. “H-hey!” Midoriya stutters and clears his throat. “Is everything okay? It’s pretty late…”

You flash him a bright smile. “Everything’s great! May I come in?”

“Uh, sure!” he says as he opens the door for you.

As you walk into his apartment, his scent hits you like a train. What you wouldn’t do to pounce on him right then and there, run your hands through his hair, moaning and panting in his ear as you beg for more.

“Are you sure everything is okay? You look like you’ve been drinking and I know-”

“Shhhhh,” you say as you quickly close to space in between you two, putting your finger to his lips.

The sensation of your body pressed up against his causes Izuku’s eyes to widen and his face to heat up. He’d never admit to it, but your presence is intoxicating to him. Every time you’re near him, he feels his chest tighten with feelings. And when he goes home alone at night, laying in bed staring up at the ceiling, you’re all he dreams about. He dreams about you under him as he grinds against you, getting the chance to feel every inch of your skin beneath his finger tips. He hates himself when he wakes up thinking of you like that. He likes you way too much to jeopardize your guys’ relationship. But now, with your face just inches from his, you’re just too tempting.

“W-what are you doing?”

You smile and give him a knowing look, as if to communicate through eye contact that “I’ve decided I must ride you till I break you.” Wrapping one arm around his neck, you pull him closer to whisper in his ear.

“Izuku,” you say as sultry as possible. You whispering his first name in his ear gives him goosebumps. “I want you.”

Without warning, you smash your lips into his, kissing him with so much force, you’re surprised he stays standing. Midoriya immediately tenses up, unsure how to proceed. He wants to kiss you back. So badly. This is everything he’s ever wanted and more. But what if he does something wrong? What if he goes too far? Can he really trust himself to not lose control around you? What if-

“Stop thinking so much,” you say, pulling away from the kiss.

You look him in the eyes lovingly, trying to show that you understand. Because you do. You’re terrified right now. If it weren’t for the alcohol running through your veins, you would have never had the courage to do this. But you’re here now: face to face with the man you’ve pined for for what seems to be forever. Both your hearts racing at what feels to be a deadly pace. It just feels… right.

“I think you’re beautiful,” you say, confessing your feelings. “I know you’re always trying so hard to be everyone’s hero, but you matter too. The world filled with villains is unfair and cruel, but for tonight, let’s keep it locked out there. In here, it’s beautiful. Can we make this beautiful?”

You hold your breath as you wait for his response, searching his green eyes for an answer. But having you this close to him, Midoriya can’t think straight. He can’t begin to rationalize or think logically about the situation. All he can think about is wanting to claim you as his own and having you become undone beneath him.

“Th-that works for me-” he squeaks out.

The second you hear those words pass through his lips, you’re back to kissing him. But this time, Izuku gives in and kisses you back, tentatively at first. You reach your other hand up to run your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly at the ends. He lets out a quiet moan in response, egging you on to repeat the action.

He pulls away only to lead you into his bedroom. Gently pressing you up against his wall, Midoriya gets to work kissing your neck, inhaling your intoxicating scent as he does so. He’s under your spell, no doubt about it. And the sensation of his lips lightly peppering kisses up and down your neck is enough to drive you mad.

“Don’t hold back,” you whisper, wanting to experience Izuku Midoriya let loose. “Make me yours.”

Your wish is his command as he swiftly picks you up and places you on his bed. He hovers above you for a second, admiring your raw beauty, shocked that a woman like you is underneath him, panting and yearning to be touched by him. He runs his shaking hands over your body, hooking his thumbs beneath your shirt. Looking at you for the go-ahead, you nod your head and allow him to begin to undress you. He presses hot kisses down your body till he gets to your pants.

“Can I-”

“Yes,” you reply eagerly. “I’m all yours.”

He easily slides your pants off of you and quickly gets to work, unhooking your bra and taking off your underwear.

“You're overdressed,” you comment, tugging at his top.

He blushes and chuckles as he shyly takes off his shirt, revealing his beautifully sculpted body. You run your hands over the planes of his chest, feeling his many scars beneath your fingertips. He starts to shrink away, obviously embarrassed by the marks, constant reminders of times he went too far or failed to keep a villain at bay. But before he can pull away too much, you grab and pull him close to you so that he’s practically laying on top of you. Rather than assuring him with words, you kiss him tenderly, showing him just how much you adore and worship him.

He smiles before standing up to remove his pants and boxers. You lick your lips as you watch him strip, eagerly awaiting what he holds in store for you. He grabs a condom out of a dresser drawer and slides it on himself. And once he’s completely naked in front of you, you beckon him towards you, loving the way he mindlessly follows your instructions.

Midoriya climbs back on top of you. He gazes at you as he awaits direction on what to do next. Taking charge, you gently guide his hand down to your cunt.

“A-already so wet for me?” he asks, seemingly unable to comprehend the effect he has on you.

You help guide his fingers into you, the sensation making you gasp. “This is what you do to me.”

He begins to pump his fingers in and out of you, relishing in the way you moan at the sensation. As he curls his fingers inside of you, he uses his thumb to graze over your clit, seemingly playing your body like an instrument that he’s mastered.

“Izuku,” you whine. “I want to feel you inside of me.”

Midoriya smirks, seemingly gaining some confidence after seeing how easily undone you become at the mercy of his fingers.

“Patience,” he says, chuckling. “I want to make you feel better than you’ve ever felt.”

With that, he quickly replaces his fingers with his mouth. You gasp at the sudden sensation of feeling his mouth between your legs.

Izuku begins flicking his tongue against your clit as you moan at the intense pleasure. It feels amazing, better than it has any right to feel. But you haven’t touched him yet, and that just won’t do. You pull his face up to kiss him so you could return the favor and start stroking him, smiling at the way his breath hitches when you begin to pick up your pace.

“Fuck me,” you beg. “Please.”

With your voice sounding like that, begging like your life depends on his cock being inside of you, you don’t need to tell him twice. His lips meet yours as you feel him line up to your entrance. He slowly slides into you, and both of you let out a gasp. After allowing you to adjust to his size, Midoriya begins to slowly rock his hips.

“Mmmm,” he moans. “You feel so perfect.”

“Izuku,” you say breathlessly. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

You hear him grunt in response as he picks up his pace, thrusting into you harder, fucking you into the mattress.

At that moment, you don’t care about villains or death threats or even being a hero. You’re in bed with Izuku Midoriya, and he’s moaning and whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he makes you feel like the only girl in the world, nothing like the dead girl walking you felt like at the start of the night.

His hips start stuttering and you can tell by his breathing pattern in your ear that he’s coming close to finishing. Just the thought of Midoriya finishing inside of you is enough to start to push you over your own edge.

“Izuku!” you scream.

“Louder,” he says roughly in your ear. “Please. Say my name louder.”

You do as he commands, screaming his name as he slams into you.

“F-fuck, Y/N, you’re amazing,” he breathes.

Hearing the naive Izuku Midoriya curse and saying your name as his cock is buried deep inside of you is enough to make you finish. Waves of pleasure rock through your body, and the sensation of your pussy pulsing around his cock sends Izuku over the edge as well.

He gently pulls out and lays beside you, the two of you breathing heavily. Izuku looks over at you and can’t help but be entranced by the blissed out look on your face. He would hate to admit it, but he’s imagined before what a sight you would be after sex, but nothing compares to the real thing. You’re positively glowing. And why wouldn’t you be? The fears of villains, ominous notes, or your fleeting morality seem miles away from you now. Izuku has effectively made the whole town disappear, and all that’s left is a satisfying ache between your thighs and a smile on your lips. It’s beautiful.

#midoriya izuku x reader #deku x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya smut #izuku smut #deku smut #bnha x reader #bnha

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wysteriadelights · 4 years

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Royal Apology

I’d like to personally blame each and every single one of my children, grand-children, and great-grandchildren in the pokenimagines discord. If it weren’t for your screams of terror this would of never happened. I’ve never wrote smut before and here it is, it will haunt me until my dying day, I will be breathing my last, and as my life flashes I’ll remember that I made this, and my last words on this earth will be “god fucking damnit” and I have only my need to make others suffer to blame. We do not proofread in this house because we suffered enough the first time. A Swordword x Shielbert fic, WARNING, VERY VERY NSFW. DONT READ UNDER THE CUT IF YOU LOVE YOURSELF AND OR YOU’S A BABY, DON’T DO IT!!!!

You wondered for a brief second, if anyone could have foreseen this turn of events. This tiny flash of self-reflection would be swiftly cast out, as another rough thrust from behind left you dazed. A low whine soon followed it, as the voice of Sordward carried over the wet smacks resounding all around you, “I think I’m nearing my limit, Younger brother!” A high-pitched groan escaped the man in front of you in response. Your jaw was currently wrapped around his member, Shielbert’s hands grasping your hair firmly as he pistoled himself erratically in and out of your mouth. Judging by the fact that Sordword’s own thrusts into your honeypot were just as careless, his claim was as good as a warning as you were going to get. Gripping Shielbert’s thighs for support, your back arched as you felt the crest of your own orgasm start. It seems you wouldn’t come alone however, as both brothers in near perfect sync tore themselves from your cores, only to slam back in one last time to deposit the reward for all your efforts.

“I-I’m-” “Arriving!” Such was all that they could choke out before their voices devolved into sloppy moans, your own unable to be heard as Shieldbert’s seed poured down into the depths of your throat. Sordword’s hot load blasting into your womb, putting out the fire that had been raging within for what felt like an eternity. How had this began? Well, it was quite simple, after the two had tried and failed to prove the two legendary pokemon, that had bravely aided you in ending the darkest day, were little more than beasts. Learning the errors of their ways after you had saved them from getting a last minute face rearrangement from the rightfully pissed off recipient of their efforts, they had come to apologize. However you soon learned their apology was something a little more… if you were up for the challenge, which, you of course were. You had proven yourself more royal than they were, and what better way than to have them give you some tribute? Treat yourself. So it was that you found yourself in quite the luxurious hotel room, being undressed by the two reverently. After all, why should a queen stoop to doing something so mundane? Their fingers ghosting over your skin as they peeled off your layer one by one. Shielbert leaving gentle kisses down your leg as he slowly pulled your pants off. Sordward at your back nibbling at your neck as he worked your bra off. Once you were completely exposed you cleared your throat, stopping them in their tracks as two pairs of light blue eyes twinkled up at you with piety. “Boys, I believe you’re overdressed for the occasion,” you said in a slight pouty tone, dragging your finger over Shielbert’s collar, who hummed amusedly. No doubt you could have helped them out of those stuffy suits, but a part of you took great joy in the show, not expecting them to be rather well-built. Which spoke nothing compared to what they were hiding under their boxers, your breath hitched in your chest before it released as a soft chuckle, one might call it a feast for kings. It was no good to get too excited over the main course, when you hadn’t even tasted the appetizer. Only with your beckon did they approach you once more, using your hands to direct them to where exactly you wanted them to appreciate you most. Shielbert was granted the honour of being allowed to put his face between your thighs, as much as you tried to not think about it, his hairstyle was at less risk of bobbing between your eyes during it. Whilst Sordward busied himself with your chest, his erection ever so subtly prodding against your back, you had to give the two some credit. Their mouths could get a lot done when they weren’t running them off with cheap banter, it was a mercy you could educate them better now. It seemed in no time you were balling your hands into fists, impatient as you were for your need for release, you weren’t happy with going down like this. With a throaty moan you clenched your fist in Shielbert’s hair and gave a commanding tug, his tongue removing itself regretfully from your core where it had been thrashing about. You grabbed Sordward’s hand that had been giving a final squeeze to your breast, and pulled him forward so you could hiss into his ear. It was time for a change in positions, your idea leading to you now hovering over Sordward’s twitching cock. “Eager, aren’t we Elder brother?” Shielbert mused, hovering behind you for support as you began your slow descent. You shushed Sordward with a finger as he opened his mouth to reply to his brother, just as the crown of his member kissed your slick folds. The heat was nearly enough to make you moan whoreishly, having to bite your tongue to keep yourself silent, as you let him enter you properly. You allowed just a moment to bask in the fact that he filled you in every way, before you started moving, eagerly enjoying the royal rod you had been so graciously given. Practically bouncing on his cock, you reached up to dig your hands into hair, messing it up as he groaned in your ear. Shielbert’s whine reminded you that you shouldn’t show too much favoritism, and you used one of your hands to reach around to grasp his length. If they were paying close attention they could have noticed how you timed the pump of your fist with that of your hips, and all too soon you reached the peak again. Letting out the moan you had been fighting, you felt Sordward’s head curl into the crook of your neck, as Shielbert took the other side. You felt Shieldbert’s semen spill over and around your hand first, before you pulled off of Swordward, his seed being painted over your torso not even a second too soon. It had been quite fun, but now came the main event, where Sworward and Shielbert had given you the royal spitroast you so rightfully deserved. Squeezing down on them with all of your might as the throws of your orgasm clouded your mind entirely. Never had your brain leaving the room felt so wonderful, you would think later, as Shielbert pulled himself from your mouth just as you had hit the limit your oxygen deprived lungs would allow. Taking in gulpfuls of air, your mind slowly oozed its way back to normalcy. Swordward carefully extracting his cockmeat from your cum-stained muff, your walls attempting to milk him for every last drop made it somewhat difficult. Shielbert carefully wiped at your mouth, cleaning away his leftover seed as Swordward rushed to grab warm towels. Perhaps it was a little selfish then, to bring up when they’d “apologize” for going inside so brazeningly. But could they blame you? It was easy to get addicted to such royal treatment.

#pokemon sword and shield #sordward x reader x shielbert #lemon #is this what im doing with my life #swordword #shielbert #im sorry pepper #pokemon swsh #pokemon swsh imagines #sordward #shieldbert

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cakelanguage · 5 years

Text

Had to play a bit of catch up since I got sick so it's another three day prompt. I really enjoy writing Klaus and Dave, their dynamic can be hilarious if you write them like that. I also looked at a lot of lingerie for this and while I didn't find the perfect set, there was more than a few sets that I feel would look amazing on Klaus (or anyone really). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this! Day 25:Lingerie Day 26: Costumes Day 27: Mutual masturbation

You can also read this on AO3

“Come on, babe,” Klaus whined, holding the shopping bag out to Dave imploringly. “I promise it’s tasteful.”

Dave shook his head, trying and failing to stop the wide grin from forming on his face. “Klaus, honey, you said that outfit last week was tasteful,” Dave said with a laugh.

“Are you trying to say that sexy Gandalf didn’t do it for you?”

“We had just seen Gandalf die the night before when you were making me watch the first Lord of the Rings. I cried during that scene, and then you wanted me to be the Balrog.”

“I thought it’d be hot.”

Dave snorted and gave Klaus a look like his boyfriend was the brightest star in the sky. “The costume in the bag isn’t another weird one is it?”

Klaus sighed and shook the bag lightly. “No, I promise it’s not a weird one this time. However,” he waggled his eyebrows at Dave. “I’m open to any suggestions if you’ve got ‘em.”

“Nah, not any now, this is more your realm than mine.”

“Okay, but expect at least one ‘sexy handyman seduced by the housewife’ scenario in the future.”

Dave laughed, taking the bag out of Klaus’s hands. “Okay, see that one I get.”

“I swear if you weren’t dating me, I’d question your taste.” Klaus grabbed the bag he’d left on their bed and waltzed over to their bathroom. “Now you get dressed in here, and I’ll be out in just a few. Gotta spruce up y’know.”

Dave waved Klaus on as he started digging into the contents of the bag. Well, there was a lot of black in this costume, no crazy colors or patterns that Klaus usually went for. At least that was comforting to know. He pulled out the first piece and laid it out on the bed. Black pants were pretty basic, but they felt nicer than any of his other pants. He pulled out a black blazer next, the same quality fabric as the pants. Wait a minute…

“Dove, did you buy me a suit?” Dave asked through the door.

He heard Klaus giggle before there was a clatter from inside and a few mumbled curses. “Technically, Daddy bought you a suit,” Klaus replied.

His eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “Your dad bought me a suit? I thought he was dead.”

“And thank that creepy little girl that he is.”

“Klaus-“

“I used his money to buy it. Well, technically it’s my share now since it was divided between the seven of us. I hope you’re okay with being a sugar baby.”

“A what?”

Klaus let out another dramatic sigh. “There is so much I still have to teach you, Dave.”

And he was looking forward to learning, even if it was another one of Klaus’s array of kinks he “liked to dabble in.”

Deciding he better just get dressed instead of questioning the outfit, he quickly took off his regular clothes, folding them and placing them on the chest of drawers before putting on the pants. They were practically sculpted to his body, they were so well tailored. Dave didn’t think that was possible unless you went in to get them fitted.

The white button up was standard enough, the cotton a bit thicker so it wasn’t see through, and was slim fit to his torso. His pecs strained the fabric a little, but it seemed to fit everywhere else so he counted it as another winner. The tie was, again, black and Dave was starting to feel severely overdressed once he got it tied around his neck. The black blazer finished his outfit off and Dave could honestly say that he felt like one of those fancy CEOs in those TV shows.

He examined himself in the mirror in the corner of their room, opposite of the door leading to their bathroom. He looked good in this suit. He’d always felt like a monkey in a suit, no offense to Pogo intended, when he’d worn suits before but this one made him feel like Steve McQueen.

“You’re aging yourself, Davie,” Klaus teased lightly. He must have said McQueen’s name aloud for Klaus to be teasing him about that. “Besides, you look way better than Steve McQueen, Mr. Katz.”

Hearing Klaus’s voice breathily say his name had Dave’s cock twitching in interest. “You almost done getting ready?”

Klaus banged on the door with his fists. “Just about, why don’t you go ahead and sit on the bed and I’ll be right out.”

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

“Oh trust me, I don’t think I could wait much longer.”

His interest even more peaked than before, Dave obeyed, settling himself on their bed, his back propped up against the pillows. Only now did he notice he’d never taken off his rainbow socks.

Luckily he didn’t have to wait for long before the bathroom door was opened just a crack. A stocking clad leg was stuck out through the opening and Dave wolf whistled at the sight. Klaus’s legs looked fantastic in stockings and he would give them the attention they deserved.

“Hello, Mr. Katz,” Klaus said, pushing the rest of the door open to reveal himself.

Dave choked on his own spit at the sight of his boyfriend. In addition to the heels and stockings, Klaus was wearing a blush pink see through lace bralette. The lace added a touch of softness to Klaus’s features, just like the dress had done before, but the see through lace let Dave see Klaus’s perky nipples through the fabric.

And then there were the panties.

What might have been more accurate to call scraps of fabric, the panties were the same blush pink with lace except the sides were accented by little bows that perched perfectly on Klaus’s hips. Dave could easily see Klaus’s dick straining against the thin fabric as Klaus seemed to get more and more aroused. He wanted to mouth along his boyfriend’s dick through the fabric and see how far he could push him before he came.

God Dave was a lucky man.

“Oh Dove,” Dave whispered, stretching out a hand as if he could reach Klaus from where he was. “You look so pretty.”

Klaus smiled, cocking his hip to the side. “You haven’t even seen the best part yet,” Klaus declared, before turning around.

Dave felt his breath hitch as he stared in wonderment at the back of Klaus’s panties. He didn’t even know if you could call them backs since it consisted of mostly straps except for the giant hole in the center to display the entirety of the cleft of his boyfriend’s ass.

“Your panties have no ass,” Dave whisper reverently, desperate to put his hands on the beautiful globes of Klaus’s ass.

Klaus purred, bending forward slowly to show off more of his ass. The straps stretched as he flexed his ass and he relished in the moan of approval that came from his delightful audience. “I figured these would be perfect for tonight.” Klaus looked over his shoulder devilishly and Dave felt another flare of arousal shoot through him at the look. “Ready to fuck me fully dressed, Mr. Katz?”

Dave sent a silent thank you to all the higher beings up there. “I think that can be arranged, doll.” He quirked a finger, beckoning his boyfriend over to the bed.

Klaus prowled over to him, his heels clicking loudly in their room. Instead of walking around the side of the bed to meet Dave head-on, he kneeled on the bed and slowly crawled over his boyfriend until he could successfully seat himself over the tent in Dave’s pants.

He moaned at the sensation of their cocks touching through their clothes and Klaus ground himself down against Dave, listening as his boyfriend was overtaken by the feeling just like him.

Dave’s hands ran down Klaus’s back, his fingers curiously mapping out the lacey pattern on the back of the bralette. He then let himself play with the string of the panties before cupping both of Klaus’s ass cheeks in his hands. It felt just as perfect as it usually did in whatever Klaus was wearing that day. But God there was something about the giant hole in the panties that made Klaus’s ass absolutely sinful.

He forced Klaus’s hips to roll against his own, watching the way Klaus’s eyes became half-lidded and hungry. He chanced a glance at Klaus’s straining cock and groaned at the darkening patch of lace where the tip of Klaus’s dick was leaking precum.

“So eager already,” Dave muttered, tracing a finger along the length of Klaus’s dick. His boyfriend jerked his hips into Dave’s fingers and Dave rewarded him by tugging the front of Klaus’s panties down enough to free Klaus’s dick from the confines of his panties. “That’s it baby, you want to feel me?”

Klaus nodded his head vigorously, rutting against Dave’s stomach, smearing his precum on Dave’s new shirt. “Wanna feel you,” Klaus moaned, his fingers fumbling at Dave’s pants with sweaty hands.

Dave helped Klaus open his pants and pull his dick out so that both of their cocks were standing at attention, bumping against each other with the tiniest movement.

He wrapped his hand around both of their lengths, lazily jerking them both off with sure movements. They wouldn’t last long, especially with the way Klaus was moaning like a whore and Dave was groaning and pumping their cocks faster as he felt himself grow close to coming.

But that wouldn’t be the end of their night. No, he was going to fuck Klaus so well that his boyfriend would could only whisper Dave’s name.

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alex12311 · 4 years

Text

Kamilah x MC fluff

set between book 1 and 2

hey, I know my blog isn’t Choices related but I’m too lazy to make a new one for this. Anyway, ever wondered what a 2000+ years old vampire would act like if she was forced to go to a supermarket with her chaotic dumbass girlfriend? Well this is my take on it. Enjoy.

When Kamilah agreed to the sleepover she had something calm and short in mind. While she had no qualms about spending time with Lily and Amy in their little apartment (a place that she never expected to call cozy), she also wished to drag the human into bed early and have her all to herself . She did not plan on seducing her. Kamilah had more of a mind for smothering her in a needy embrace and fall asleep lulled by the sound of her heartbeat. She needed such comfort after such a stressful week.

The girls, however, planned on going all out. Expensive alcohol, loud music, tons of junk food and Lily even mentioned party hats. Kamilah sincerely hoped that she was joking.

Either way, since the event was agreed upon quite spontaneously and last minute, all the junk food, alcohol and party hats needed to be procured first.

And so Kamilah found herself standing in front of a supermarket, frowning at the flickering, broken light. She was Kamilah Sayeed. She did not do supermarkets. The occasional time she actually went to buy something herself was when she popped into a local liquor store, otherwise she relied on shopping from the comforts of her home. Why bother when she had others bringing her food and drink right to her doorstep?

She hadn’t set foot into a supermarket in over twenty years. She avoided them like the plague. Humans everywhere. Loud noises. Obnoxious music. Poisonous, sugary foods all around. And they ate those things. Willingly. Kamilah was disgusted.

And yet here she was, tagging along and all it took was a stupid smile and exaggerated batting of eyelashes to convince her to come. Amy was officially a bad influence.

“Come on, it won’t be so bad,” the girl cooed as she watched the slightly overdressed vampire brood at the lights. Her mocking smile dispelled whatever illusion of fun she was trying to cast. She linked their arms to get the brunette’s attention. “I’ll buy you a lollipop.”

Kamilah snorted. “Please. If you wish to make me happy then make it quick. Do you have a list of what you need?”

Amy nodded. “Yes, don’t worry about it. Thanks for agreeing to come with me,” she hugged Kamilah’s arm for a brief second, then let go. “I always wanted a strong, attractive woman to carry my bags for me.”

“I agreed to no such thing.”

The human merely laughed and started walking inside. Kamilah braced herself and followed.

The place was nearly deserted at such a late hour, and so it felt like there was just the two of them, pushing the cart through sleepy aisles. Kamilah let Amy lead her, at first taking it quietly as if she was enduring some punishment, but soon she began to wander around and look at things while staying within Amy’s orbit. The human found it amusing, but did not say a word in fear that she might put a stop to this endearing curiosity of hers.

Kamilah peeked over her lover’s shoulder to look at her hastily written shopping list. “What do you need to get from here?” She gestured to the fruits and veggies all around them. Most of the crates were half-empty. No one bothered to restock them.

Distracted by the sudden closeness, Amy quickly looked around and pointed. “Spinch!”

“A what?” Kamilah’s brow furrowed. Was this some new slang? Youths…

Amy paced over to a crate and lifted a package full of spinach leaves. “ ‘Tis a spinch!”

“Amy, why? Why can’t you just call it what it is like a normal person?”

“Excuse you, it’s funny.” She said as she set her spinch into the shopping cart.

“It isn’t.”

“Okay then. Let’s make rounds. I’ll read the item names and we’ll see how funny it gets.” She didn’t wait for Kamilah to agree to this. The vampire followed her and shook her head as Amy pointed at various fruits and vegetables, butchering their names with determination.

Kamilah rolled her eyes as Amy called an egg plant ‘edgy planet’, whined quietly at the ‘wutermenan’ spoken with a redneck accent, but the ‘ponopls’ actually forced a silent choking laughter out of her. She stopped in her tracks, hid her face in her palms and let it roll through her, equal parts dismayed that this actually managed to get to her, and mad at Amy for pushing her this far, especially in public.

Meanwhile, Amy was grinning from ear to ear. “Kamilah Sayeed, losing it over mispronounced fruit. I thought I’d never see the day.”

Kamilah took a long breath and composed herself, snatching the shopping basket and power-walking away. She heard the sound of hurried footsteps behind her. “Just so we’re clear, this is the last time I ever go shopping with you.” She shot Amy a glare over her shoulder. “Give me the list.” She reached out, snapping her fingers impatiently.

When Amy finally caught up with her, she handed the note over breathlessly. The brown eyes scanned the page. “I can’t read this. You have a penmanship of a five-year-old who is having a seizure.”

“Not all of us can ooze elegance with everything we do,” Amy shot back, taking the note from her. “Come this way.”

After few minutes of walking and complaining, Kamilah’s bitterness evaporated and was replaced with her previous curiosity and a surprisingly agreeable mood. She raised an eyebrow when Amy made eye contact with her as she pushed not one, not two, but three bags of Cheetos into the shopping basket, claiming it was for Lily. When Amy approached the baked goods and saw a bunch of glazed strawberry doughnuts, she gulped audibly and froze up, no doubt debating with her inner demon who wanted to gorge herself stupid.

After few months of their relationship Kamilah knew just how powerful Amy’s sweet tooth was. For her own good, she reached down, took her hand and began leading her away like a mother chaperoning her greedy child who was dead set on eating themselves through her wallet.

And then Kamilah found the booze aisle. Amy hung back and let the woman walk around like a hawk, scrutinizing the brands like an officer in front of a line of sloppily dressed, inexperienced soldiers.

“This is little more than rose colored water,” she said, lips curling in disgust. “And it’s the second most expensive wine they have here.”

“You tell them,” Amy chuckled, resting her head on her palm as she leaned on the shopping cart. “Should we ask for the manager?”

“Do not patronize me, Amy.”

“Oh, I don’t. I mean it. I’d wrestle the manager for you if it meant getting you what you want.”

Kamilah put the wine back on the shelf. “As much as I’d like to see that, I think we would do better to stop by a proper liquor store before we return to your apartment. Or…” She stroke her chin thoughtfully, then produced two bottles of Perrier and lifted them for Amy to see. “Is this okay with you?”

The human nodded vigorously. Kamilah smiled and took two more, much to Amy’s horror. Just how much did she plan on drinking? Well, there is three of us… she thought. Surely that would… Oh. Here she goes, taking another bottle. Right, Miss Sayeed. You better carry my bags now.

Since they were there, Amy made some purchases that had nothing to do with the party. Not that the spinach had much to do with it to begin with, but a girl’s gotta keep healthy.

As Amy browsed the confusingly big selection of cooking oils, Kamilah watched her intently. She hasn’t seen many humans doing their ordinary day to day chores, and she found this side of the girl fascinating. Only a frugal woman would bother doing the math and figuring out which thing was cheaper while also considering the quality. Amy’s generous paychecks have been coming for months, yet she was still careful with her money. To a billionaire, this type of behavior was both endearing and admirable, if not a bit odd.

Amy caught the vampire staring and turned to face her. “Not that I don’t appreciate you mooning over me, but this aisle is hardly romantic,” said the woman dual-wielding olive oils.

“Oh?” Moving closer, the vampire closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to Amy’s forehead. “I can moon over you wherever I please.”

Nervous laughter escaped from Amy’s mouth. She felt overwhelmed, like her knees would buckle any moment and she’d make an idiot out of herself by swooning in a most inelegant way she could muster. And Kamilah, damn that woman, knew it.

The vampire smiled, victorious and smug. “Are we done here? As…enlightening as this has been, I would like to be elsewhere.”

“Well, I always make a point of going through the candle section before I leave…”

“Fine. One more stop, but then we leave.”

Soon enough Kamilah watched as Amy made a beeline from shelf to shelf, sniffing the candles like a coy crack addict. Sometimes she’d hold one out for Kamilah to smell as well if it managed to catch her interest.

“I didn’t know you liked candles so much,” Kamilah said, tucking this information away for later use. She’d make her a custom one based on what she liked. An easy gift, and a guaranteed success. “Tell you what. Pick one. It’s on me.”

Amy made a guilty face as if Kamilah just offered to buy her an island. “You don’t have to—“

“Shut up and take one candle,” the CEO commanded firmly.

Surprisingly, it took less than five seconds for Amy to make her choice. She handed Kamilah what she wanted and blushed slightly.

“Lavender?” Kamilah smirked knowingly. The woman practically bathed in the stuff. When she stayed over at Amy’s, her scent always clung to the sheets, it was maddening.

“Don’t say a word,” Amy pointed at her in warning.

They went and found only one working cashier in the whole supermarket. Just as Amy was about to pay the teen, Kamilah waved her off and produced her fancy credit card. It hardly made a dent in her finances yet she knew that the human would insist on somehow making it up to her, and frankly, she was happy to collect on that debt if it meant having a nice romantic night together.

Proving herself to be chivalrous, the vampire took the three heavy bags without a complaint. As soon as they got out on the open street, Amy leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you. You’re an absolute sweetheart, you know that?”

Kamilah sighed. “The things I do for you…”

#playchoices #kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #bloodbound #bb

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the-observant-frisbeetarian · 5 years

Text

Chapter 3 - Vino y Pasta

La Patisserie de la Rose by George deValier

CHAPTER THREE Vino y Pasta

"Maybe this was not the best idea."

Matthew took one look at Francis' worried expression and felt his heart sink to his stomach. Francis had changed his mind. Matthew had been too boring, he hadn't spoken enough, he'd spoken too much, he didn't know how to flirt properly, he'd done this all wrong… "Oh. That's okay. I mean, I understand if you've changed…"

"No, no, no, my dear!" Francis smiled reassuringly and placed his hand lightly on Matthew's back. Matthew felt the touch like a burning, swelling spark beneath his skin. "Asking you on a date was, I believe, the best idea I have had all year. I'm just not certain if I chose the best place."

"Oh?" Matthew glanced around the bright, busy restaurant. What could Francis possibly be concerned about? The place seemed perfect.

"No, it should be fine." Francis spoke softly, as though to himself. "I'm sure they don't work on Fridays…" He was interrupted by a shriek.

"FRANCIS!" A short, grinning, amber-haired young man bounded across the full restaurant, pushing past bustling waiters and crowded tables, and threw his arms around Francis. "François, grand frère, I haven't seen you for so long! Not since Tuesday! Did you bring me cupcakes? No? That's okay, you can make me some for tomorrow night, with rainbow icing and sprinkles and you are going to Gilbert's party tomorrow night, aren't you? Did you know Antonio told him? Lovino was so cranky. Well, crankier than usual."

"Ah, Feli," said Francis, a forced smile on his lips. "So you are working tonight."

"Of course! It's been so busy we need all the staff we can get!"

Francis took Matthew's arm and started to slowly back away. "Is that right? I'm sure there are no free tables, then. Oh well, I guess we will be leaving…"

"No! Don't be silly! There's always room for family. I'll get you a table. LOVINO!" Francis winced at the shout and smiled apologetically at Matthew. The young man burst into a steady stream of rapid-fire Italian, quickly answered by further shouting from the kitchen across the room. No one in the restaurant seemed to take notice.

"I'm sorry," said Francis softly, speaking into Matthew's ear. "Like I said, maybe this wasn't…"

"No, it's fine!" Matthew had never been to a place like this before. The sound of loud speech and boisterous laughter blasted from every table; the smell of tomato and roasting garlic filled the air; vivid drawings of colourful food and the Italian countryside covered the walls. It felt warm, lively, friendly. In some strange way, it reminded Matthew of Francis' patisserie. The cheerful young man turned back towards them and spoke again in English.

"I'll show you to your usual table, of course you know the way though, you're lucky it's free because there's so many people tonight and oh!" The man broke off, stared wide-eyed at Matthew, and gasped loudly. "Hello!"

"Uh. Hello."

"Hello!" The little Italian put his hands to his mouth then wrung them frantically. "I'm so rude. Oh gosh, I'm sorry, I'm so rude, I didn't even… hello."

Matthew tried not to laugh. "Hello."

"Feliciano," said Francis, breaking smoothly into the short, broken excuse for a conversation. "This is Matthew. Matthew, my little cousin Feliciano."

Matthew held out his hand but, to his surprise, Feliciano threw his arms around him and squeezed him tightly. "Benvenuto, Matthew! I'm so, so happy to meet you! Welcome to Casa Vargas! Wow, you must be really special, you're the first one of Francis' boyfriends he's ever brought here! Well, I say boyfriends, but everyone knows Francis only uses them for s…"

"SO!" Francis shouted. "How about that table, Feliciano?"

"Oh, yes!" Feliciano released Matthew and bounced off into the restaurant. "Follow me!"

Matthew tried not to dwell on that earlier statement of Feliciano's, instead allowing Francis to take his hand and lead him through the bright, crowded room. He wondered if his work suit was tidy enough, then wondered if he was overdressed, then worried whether Francis expected to pay the bill, then hoped people weren't staring at their clasped hands, then Francis looked back and smiled. "I had no idea it would be this busy!"

Every doubt and worry flew from Matthew's mind. His cheeks turned warm and he returned the smile shyly. "I suppose that means the food is fantastic!"

His eyes fixed on Francis', Matthew barely noticed they had stopped until Feliciano turned and gestured theatrically to the table beside them. "Your table, signori! I shall return with your wine shortly!" He stared at Matthew, giggled, said, "Hello," once more, then ran off into the kitchen. Matthew reluctantly released Francis' hand, felt the need to let out a deep breath, and sat slowly at the table.

"He's, uh… cheerful."

"You have no idea, mon cher." Francis threw a quick, strangely nervous glance after Feliciano before taking the seat opposite Matthew.

The table was situated in a back corner of the restaurant, slightly removed from the other diners, which gave it a private, secluded feel. This had all happened so fast, but it suddenly struck Matthew that he was on a date – a date with a man he was very, very interested in. When was the last time that had happened? Actually, when had that ever happened? His natural shyness overtaking him, Matthew could only stare at the table. This was real now, this was a date, not just a casual morning at the patisserie before work. Matthew did not quite know what to say, what to do with his hands. He absently pushed the wine glass across the crisp white tablecloth, then reached out and touched the small candle holder in the centre of the table. Unexpected heat spread through his fingers. "Oh!" he said in surprise. "It's real!"

"Excuse me?"

Matthew looked up to see Francis staring amusedly at Matthew's fingers brushing over the little glass jar. Matthew immediately dropped his hand. "Oh, nothing, really. It's just, so many restaurants have those fake candles these days. It is nice to see a real one. It's more…"

"Romantique?"

Matthew felt his lips twitch and his skin warm at that familiar bright-eyed smile, that lilting, teasing tone. "I was going to say, honest."

"Of course. That describes the place quite well, really."

Matthew glanced around at the tables of families arguing over pizza, the couples gazing at each other over glasses of wine. "It is lovely. Warm and friendly. And your family own it?"

Francis nodded. "The Italian branch."

"There are branches?"

"Darling, my grandfather scattered children across the Mediterranean like petals to the wind. I am quite certain that entire future generations in the region would be able to trace their ancestry back to the man." Francis winked. "If only his grandchildren were the type to procreate."

Matthew leant forward, intrigued. "Which they're not?"

At that moment, Feliciano reappeared like a colourful miniature tornado beside them, grinning and bouncing and brandishing a bottle of red wine. "La vostra bottiglia di vino rosso, signori! Or, votre bouteille de vin rouge, Messieurs!"

"Or, Ihre Flasche Rotwein, Herren." Matthew shot a wry smirk at the bouncing brunet, who went immediately still, his eyes widening and his mouth dropping open. Matthew started to worry that he might have been rude or inappropriate, when Feliciano finally shouted a response.

"O mio Dio, Matthew, you speak German!"

"Oh, um..." Matthew blinked a few times, taken aback. He had only meant it as a light-hearted, throwaway reply to Feliciano's swift change of language. "Well, only a tiny bit, that was probably incorrect, I was just…"

"Can you teach me to say something?" Feliciano interrupted eagerly, his expression bright and earnest and intense. He didn't seem to notice Francis take the wine from his hand and proceed to pour it into the two glasses on the table. Matthew looked to him for help but Francis just suppressed a laugh behind a falsely innocent expression.

"Well, I'll try if I…"

"Can you tell me how to say, 'I love you?'" asked Feliciano excitedly.

Matthew's features relaxed into a soft smile. What a charming thing to ask. "Of course. It's 'Ich liebe dich'."

Feliciano's eyes were as wide as saucers and he practically jumped on the soles of his feet. "Oh! Thank you so much! Can you write it down for me? I'll have to get you a pen but ooh, first, also, how do you say, 'You're handsome and perfect'?"

Matthew bit back a laugh. Feliciano was too adorable. "Sie sind hübsch und perfekt."

"Grazie, Matthew!" said Feliciano breathlessly. "Just one more thing. How do you say, 'Fuck me harder, you magnificent, filthy German sex pig?'"

Matthew gasped, choked, and promptly broke into a fierce coughing fit. Francis smoothly pressed a glass of wine into his hand. Matthew gulped it down swiftly.

"Feli," said Francis lightly, "I don't think Matthew's German vocabulary extends that far. Why don't you ask Gilbert?"

Feliciano's face lit up. "Of course! Gilbert! Why didn't I think of that already? Merci, François, grand frère!" Feliciano bounced off again happily. Matthew glared at Francis over his glass, his eyes slightly wet from coughing.

"Why do I get the feeling that was quite a cruel suggestion?"

Francis shrugged innocently and took a sip of wine. "I've no idea, mon cher."

Matthew drank as well, bringing the last of his coughing under control. Well, that was certainly unexpected. "So, who is the magnificent, filthy German… uh…" Matthew trailed into a mumble and Francis giggled airily.

"Gilbert's little brother. He and Feliciano have been together a year or so."

"I see. So that's what you were referring to, earlier."

Francis winked, his dark blond hair falling across his sparkling blue eyes. "Let's just say that Grandpa has long resigned himself to the fact that he is unlikely to have great-grandchildren."

"Oh." Matthew paused to adjust to this new information. Meeting Francis' friends Gilbert and Roderich had been eye-opening in itself. Matthew was not used to meeting other gay men so openly; not in everyday situations like this. Yet Francis seemed to be surrounded by them. It was a far cry from Matthew's sheltered, small town upbringing. "So you know a lot of…" Matthew faltered over the sentence, but pressed on resolutely, "…gay men, do you?"

Francis laughed and settled back in his chair. "Darling, you've no idea!"

Matthew finished his glass of wine, feeling strangely small and ignorant. "I can't even imagine. I knew two other gay guys growing up. And one was my brother Alfred."

Francis' eyes lit up with interest. "You never told me you had a brother."

Matthew immediately regretted bringing the subject up. Even living in another city, another country, Alfred had overshadowed Matthew their entire lives. "Half brother, actually. We weren't even raised together, except for the holidays. His father is American - that's where he lives. The general consensus is that he's a more popular, more successful, better looking version of me."

Francis frowned disbelievingly. "More popular and successful, possibly. Better looking? I simply refuse to believe it, darling, unless this Alfred be a God."

Matthew scoffed incredulously, even as his neck burned at the praise. "Some might agree with that assessment of Alfred's divinity." Matthew was used to living in Alfred's shadow. But Francis made him feel special, for the first time in his life, so he had so far avoided bringing up the topic of his famous brother. But it was not the kind of thing he could hide forever. Matthew sighed deeply, met Francis' gaze evenly, and prepared himself for the gasping and gushing he had come to expect on this topic. "My brother is Alfred F Jones."

Francis' eyebrows furrowed for a moment before his face brightened in cautious understanding. "Oh! The baseball player… no?"

Matthew blinked a few times, then had to choke back a sigh of relief. "Gridiron."

"Gridiron…" Francis tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Ah oui, the silly game with the helmets. Yes, there was that scandal last year, wasn't there? The famous quarterback who came out and introduced his male English lover to the media. I vaguely remember seeing it in the papers. That was your brother?"

Matthew nodded. "I'm surprised you only heard it in passing. It caused a media meltdown in the States."

Francis waved a hand dismissively before reaching over to refill Matthew's glass. "I do not pay much attention to the news. I prefer to focus on positive things. Like my work, my patisserie. My friends. Art, music. Beautiful places. Beautiful people." Francis' compelling gaze held Matthew's as he pushed the glass towards him. "You, my dear." Francis' tone was blatantly seductive, the flash of his eyes sending a familiar shiver firing from Matthew's stomach downwards. Matthew picked up the glass to hide his reddening cheeks, but refused to lower his eyes. The lingering gaze was abruptly interrupted when a chair slammed down beside them and a dark haired man fell into it heavily. He leant against the table, his green eyes wide and unblinking, a daft but strangely discerning smile on his face.

"Hi."

"Hi," replied Matthew uncertainly, leaning away and holding the wine glass to his chest. What now? Another friend or cousin of Francis'? Why did they keep interrupting at the times like this?

The man's eyes flicked between Matthew and Francis, his expression positively beaming. "Hi."

Matthew wasn't sure whether to again respond in kind. Francis let out a resigned sigh. "Matthew, this is Antonio, a particularly irritating friend of mine. Antonio, can I help you? What are you even doing here?"

Antonio didn't answer. He leant towards Francis and hissed through clenched teeth, "Gilbert told me you had a boyfriend."

Matthew's stomach flipped at the word. Boyfriend… Francis just rolled his eyes. "Of course he did."

"He's cute." Antonio spoke in an exaggerated whisper.

"I know."

"He chose the éclair, didn't he?"

Matthew felt his cheeks burn. Did all of Francis' friends know about that? Francis glared at Antonio, who just smiled at Matthew obliviously. "What is this… this thing you're doing?"

Antonio turned to Francis, puzzled. "Thing?"

Francis let out an exasperated breath and touched his forehead. "This whispering thing. He can still hear you, you stupid Spaniard, he's right there."

Antonio scratched his head, turned back to Matthew, and broke back into a grin. "So pleased to meet you, Matthew. You're much better than looking than most of Francis' dates."

Now Francis hissed through clenched teeth. "Shut up."

Antonio ignored him. "Not that they're not good looking, only the very best for our Francis!"

Francis smiled desperately. "Please shut up."

Antonio beamed brightly. "So it's a compliment, you see."

Francis looked about ready to grab Antonio by the throat. "Oh mon Dieu, why can't you ever just shut up?"

Matthew listened silently, a small concern prodding gently at his mind. Feliciano had mentioned Francis' dates earlier, also. And then there was Francis and Gilbert's strange, whispered conversation that afternoon. Maybe Francis really did have some secrets hidden away…

Antonio waved a hand in Francis' face. "Shush, Francis. Matthew, you are coming to Gilbert's party tomorrow night, yes?"

Matthew shook the concern away and told himself not to be silly. So Francis went on a few dates. So what? That didn't mean that he wasn't interested in Matthew. After all, most guys dated a lot. But Matthew had never acted or spoken with anyone like this. It was like Francis brought out a part of him he never knew was there. And now he couldn't help wondering if Francis felt the same. He couldn't completely silence the tiny voice that asked – Does Francis treat everyone like this?

Matthew suddenly remembered he had been asked a question, but Francis spoke before he could answer. "Speaking of Gil's surprise party, Antonio…"

Antonio groaned loudly. "Oh, will everyone stop already, you know what he's like! It wasn't even me who told him, Feliciano let it slip that we were doing something! And then Gil cornered me in the kitchen, and threatened me with a spoon, and said that he'd tell Lovino about that lap dance in New York…"

"What lap dance in New York?"

Matthew felt the atmosphere turn cold. He glanced up at the young man beside them. One hand held a platter of bread and olives; the other rested rigidly on his hip. He looked very similar to Feliciano, but with darker hair and an angrier expression. Antonio turned white, then chuckled nervously. "Lovino, baby! That was something involving Gilbert, nothing to do with me!" Antonio shot Francis a manically gleeful stare. "Right, Francis?"

Francis shrugged distantly, his expression mildly triumphant. "I've nothing to do with this, mon ami." Antonio narrowed his eyes, but Francis just smirked.

Lovino raised his chin and stared down at Antonio shrewdly. "Hmm. We'll see. Antonio, get your fabulous ass back in the kitchen. We're understaffed and you're supposed to be helping."

"I'm being social!" Antonio whined indignantly.

Lovino tilted his head slowly, a dangerous glint in his eye. "New York, was it?"

Antonio almost knocked the chair over in his haste to get to his feet. "I must be off! See you tomorrow night, Matt! Francis…" Antonio leant over the table and hissed in Francis' ear, just loud enough for Matthew to overhear. "Not one word. Don't forget that I've got far more dirt on you than you'll ever have on me, amigo." Antonio straightened up, kissed Lovino on the cheek, and rushed back to the kitchen.

"Thank you, Lovino," said Francis, his pleasant tone starting to sound a little strained. "Matthew, this is my other little Italian cousin."

Lovino dropped the platter on the table with a dull thud. He kept his eyes fixed on Francis and spoke before Matthew could say a word. "Whatever. Here's your entrée. What lap dance in New York?"

Francis' expression remained impassive as he picked up an olive from the plate. "Do you know, I believe you should bring that up with Roderich."

Lovino glared at Francis, then glanced sideways at Matthew. Matthew smiled tentatively back. "Right," said Lovino. He put his hands on the table and leant over Francis. "You'd better not be hiding anything from me, cugino. Don't go forgetting the things I know about you." Francis popped the olive in his mouth and smiled. Lovino stood straight, nodded at Matthew, then turned and marched into the kitchen.

Francis closed his eyes, released a deep breath, took a long sip of wine, and smiled apologetically. "I am truly sorry. But, where were we? Tell me more about… you." Francis wagged his eyebrows and Matthew suppressed a laugh. Instead, he raised an eyebrow and tried to look unimpressed.

"Really? Now? That's your line?"

Francis groaned and fell back in his chair. "It's no use, is it. I'm completely obstructed in here."

Matthew lowered his head to hide his amused smile. It was nice to see Francis as the flustered one, for once. "Well," he said, brushing his hair back and trying to wipe his smile away, "I've been telling you about me all week. There's not much more to tell."

Francis raised an eyebrow deviously. "There is always more to tell."

"Oh?" Matthew straightened up and raised his chin. "All right then, François." Francis upper lip twinged at the teasing tone. "Tell me. Why did you leave Paris? Some scandal, perhaps?" Matthew gasped softly, dramatically. "A jilted lover? A political outrage? A dangerous past starting to catch up with you?"

A tiny eyebrow twitch; the slightest rise at the corner of Francis' lip. He lowered his lashes and said breathily, "Do you really wish to know, mon cher?"

Matthew rested his chin on his hand and leant forward across the table. "I told you once, remember? I'd love to hear all your dirty secrets."

Francis groaned at the back of his throat, then sucked in a breath through his teeth. He shot forward until he was so close Matthew could feel his warm breath on his cheek. "If you insist. The truth is…"

"Where is he?" A deep, accented voice suddenly boomed through the noisy restaurant. "Where is the boy my Francis finally brought home to his grandpa?"

Matthew laughed in disbelieving disappointment. Francis closed his eyes and put his hands to his head. "Mathieu, my dear, we can leave right now…"

Matthew sat back and smirked. "I'm actually sort of enjoying watching you squirm."

Francis' blue eyes flashed then narrowed. "You sadistic little… Grandpa Roma!" Francis stood quickly and was immediately embraced by a tall, dark haired man who kissed both his cheeks. Matthew smiled pleasantly, prepared himself to remain polite and quiet and civil, and wondered how long this interruption would take.

"Francis, my boy! Where have you been lately? Too busy for your own family? No time to see your old grandpa?" Francis' grandfather looked surprisingly young. He had the same features as Feliciano and Lovino, but Matthew could see Francis in the man's wild gestures and dancing eyes. He held Francis at arm's length and looked him up and down. "Are you eating properly, Francis? You can't live on cake and biscuits, my boy!"

Francis' face was red. Matthew couldn't help thinking it was rather endearing. "Yes, Grandpa, I know. Now, please…"

"And, Matthew!" Roma released Francis and turned. Matthew scrambled to his feet and held out his hand, but, once again, was pulled into a strong hug. "Welcome, benvenuto!"

"Um… pleased to meet you…" Matthew choked out. Roma released him and he gasped for air. He was then pushed to arms length as Roma looked him over. From the corner of his eye Matthew could see Francis standing with one hand over his face.

"Oh, aren't you handsome!" cried Roma. "Good taste does run in the family. Well done, Francis, my boy, well done! What do you do, Matthew?"

"I'm an accountant," Matthew answered quickly.

"Accountant, hmm? What kind of tax breaks can you swing for us?" Matthew tried to stammer an uncertain response before Roma clapped him on the shoulder and laughed raucously. "Joking, I'm joking, Matthew!"

"Are you done?" asked Francis through tightly stretched lips. "I didn't actually realise the entire family would be working tonight." Francis' voice was dangerously strained.

"Of course you didn't! I'm sure you have more important things to do than be interrupted by your obnoxious relatives all evening. So…" Roma whistled and, seconds later, a waiter appeared carrying a plastic bag of food containers and a second bottle of wine. Roma smiled at Matthew and winked. "So get out of here."

Matthew decided he liked Francis' grandpa.

"This is incredible!" said Matthew for the third time, halfway through the most delicious carbonara he'd ever tasted. He had barely even paused so far to worry about the mess he was probably making, trying to eat fettuccine off his knees from a plastic container with a plastic fork. Of course he knew there were a few sauce stains on his shirt, and he was hyper-aware of Francis' eyes on him, but these smooth, rich, bursting tastes on his tongue made all of that too unimportant to worry about. Francis laughed softly beside him.

"The best pasta outside of Italy. Perhaps, even, anywhere."

Matthew stared out at the bright lights reflected on the water. This place really wasn't as bad as he had thought at first. Sitting here on this bench beside Francis, eating pasta and passing a wine bottle back and forth, the city actually looked quite beautiful. The night was strangely warm despite the season, a light dusting of stars shone faintly above the glittering skyline, and few people passed them where they sat on the walkway by the river. Matthew swallowed another mouthful of the creamy pasta, then glanced at Francis from the corner of his eye. "So, making magic with food is a family trait, is it?"

"A gift, and a curse." Matthew raised an eyebrow curiously. Francis' eyes twinkled with familiar mischief. "Legend has it that a distant relative was head chef to an Emperor of Rome."

"Oh?" With an effort, Matthew kept his twitching lips from turning in a smile. "Which one?" he asked, straight faced.

Francis waved a hand with effortless grace. He had finished his own pasta, but was still as perfectly neat and refined as always. Francis ate as elegantly as he did everything else. "Oh, one of those emperors who liked his food, you know."

"Caligula?" Matthew guessed randomly.

"Oui, yes, that will do. Anyway, this story goes, that the Emperor was to hold a very large, very important feast. The night before the feast, he called his head chef to the throne. The Emperor then told him that if he did not create the most wondrous, most amazing, most delicious meal ever tasted, then he would have the chef crucified." Francis paused to take a sip of wine from the bottle, then passed it to Matthew. "The chef was, naturally, rather worried. So he called upon the dark God of the underworld, Hades."

"As you do." Matthew hid a smirk by taking a swig from the bottle.

Francis' eyes narrowed just slightly, but he continued smoothly. "He made a pact with the God. In exchange for the greatest culinary talent known to the world, the chef would give his soul to the dark underworld. And in return, all his descendants would be blessed with the same talent, and the same curse. Unless…" Francis trailed off teasingly.

"Unless?" prompted Matthew, his eyes held to Francis' in an amused, magnetic gaze.

"Unless, through their talent, the descendant is able to make just one good, pure hearted person fall in love with them. If we can do this, we are saved from the curse."

Matthew raised his eyebrows sceptically. "One of pure heart? It's like a Disney movie."

Francis' voice, always smooth as liquid sugar, came slightly deep, amused, and almost rough. "Someone like you, mon cher."

A shudder of desire rippled through Matthew's spine, but he laughed dismissively and looked back out at the river. "How many boys have you given that line to, I wonder."

Francis ignored him. "But, there is a catch."

Matthew took a sip of the strong red wine. "Isn't there always."

"I feel you aren't taking this seriously, my dear." Matthew felt his eyes drawn back, and Francis' eyes seemed to challenge him. The look set Matthew's skin afire. He attempted a sarcastic smile, but wasn't sure he pulled it off.

"Oh no, please. Tell me. What's the catch?"

Francis reached for the wine bottle, wrapping his hand around Matthew's. Matthew felt the touch shoot downwards through his veins. Francis' returned Matthew's teasing smile… his was much more successful. "If we are able to make this good, pure hearted person fall in love with us, then we gain our soul… but we lose our talent."

"Is that right?" Matthew was fairly certain that his breathy tone ruined his attempt at sarcasm. "If that's the case then… is it worth it?"

Francis slowly raised the bottle to his lips, not releasing Matthew's hand around it. He drank slowly, his eyes not moving from Matthew's. "Love or renown. It is an easy choice, no?"

Matthew felt suddenly too vivid, too aware. Francis' firm warmth beside him, the gentle pressure of his fingers, the siren flash of his eyes. But even in this close, falling, blood-quickening moment, Matthew tried to shake the worries from his head, his concerns about the constant mentions of dates and boyfriends, the nagging doubt about how many times Francis had said these words. "It is an interesting legend," he finally managed to say. "Do you think you will evade the curse?"

Francis smiled and winked. "I'm working on it."

Matthew dropped his gaze, his neck burning. He put the lid back on the plastic container and placed it on the bench beside him, then took another sip from the wine bottle. He was beginning to really feel it's effects. "So, Francis," he asked abruptly. "Why did you leave?"

"Leave?" asked Francis, confused.

"Why did you leave Paris for Canada?"

Francis turned to face Matthew on the bench, then rested his elbow on the backrest behind them. "I hunger for new experiences, Mathieu. You never know what life will bring you. Sometimes it is hard to leave what you have always known; but then, sometimes it brings you something you would otherwise never have dreamt of."

Matthew felt warmth fill his chest at the words. It was like Francis was describing Matthew's own experience. He never would have dreamt that leaving his small, quiet town would lead him to someone like Francis. The entire evening since they had left the restaurant had flowed evenly, easily. It was so natural to talk with Francis, to just be with him. But more than natural; it was exciting. The not so subtle glances, the bright and hidden smiles, the flicks of hair and bitten lips and brief brushes of hands and feet. The awareness that they both knew what was going on and where this was leading; the sweet anticipation and aching wait to get there. But now that the night was growing quieter, and the silences between them longer, Matthew could not stop his mind going again through the earlier conversations. He asked the question before he properly thought it through. "Do you go on a lot of dates, Francis?"

Francis' sharp breath and brief silence gave the answer. But then he laughed flippantly. "Please, it is nothing. You know how friends and family are. They love to make such drama out of nothing."

Matthew accepted the response for the moment. After all, it was not his place to pry. "I understand. Alfred is the same."

"I would like to meet Alfred."

The very thought of it drained the blood from Matthew's face. He shook his head, eyes wide. "No."

Francis smiled, even as his expression turned puzzled. "Why not?"

Matthew said it before he could stop himself. "Because everyone likes him best."

Francis looked amused and sceptical. "We will see about that. But let us not speak of your brother. You did not tell me about work today."

Matthew could feel his face fall. He shrugged and stared at the river. "There is nothing to tell. It was the same as every day."

"You do not like your job."

Matthew's eyes shot up. Francis rested his chin on his hand, a mixture of curiosity and empathy on his face. Matthew sighed and shrugged one shoulder. "It is a job. I am lucky."

"But it is not a passion."

Matthew frowned, a little annoyed – what an unfair thing to say. "Very few people get to do what they love, Francis."

"And what do you love?" Matthew didn't answer. He didn't know how to answer. Francis just asked again. "What did you want to be? As a child?"

Matthew laughed shortly. "A professional hockey player."

"And why did you give up?"

Matthew rolled his eyes. "It's not a very feasible goal, is it?"

"Well, even if it is not... you love to skate? To play?"

Matthew looked down into the almost empty bottle as he thought about the question. He did love skating - so much. He hadn't thought of it in years. Because, well… because it was pointless, wasn't it? "Well… yes, but…"

"Do you still skate?" Matthew looked up at that. In the reflected light from the river, Francis' eyes seemed to pierce right through him.

"No. I have no time. But..." Matthew was unsure why he paused.

Francis tilted his head slightly. "But?"

"Well..." Memories rose unbidden. Gliding alone on a lake of ice as his breath misted before him and the sun descended in the clear, darkening sky. Racing across a busy skating rink, easily dodging slower skaters and leaving Alfred struggling to catch up behind. The heart racing excitement before every game, the wild, giddy thrill of winning which nothing since had ever managed to match. "I loved hockey as a kid. Even just skating around on the ice, on my own. I always thought it would be nice to own a little skating rink, one without the politics and snobbery you sometimes get. Just somewhere friendly, where kids could learn, with hockey and dance lessons and a little café by the rink." Matthew shrugged and brushed his hair back, a little embarrassed. "Huh. I've never told anyone that." Matthew startled when he felt Francis' hand touch his, brushing the hair from his face. The touch raised goosebumps on Matthew's neck.

Francis met Matthew's gaze, and was quiet for a few moments. His voice, when he spoke, was not teasing or laughing or rough. It was simply honest. "I hope to hear many more things you have never told anyone."

The walk to Francis' patisserie took twice as long as it should have. They ambled along slowly, arms almost touching, Matthew's stomach twisting in knots every time their hands brushed together briefly. They had barely spoken since leaving the river, but it felt perfectly comfortable like this. Like they did not need to speak. When Francis suddenly stopped it took Matthew a few moments to notice why - they were standing at the patisserie door. His twisting stomach flipped completely. He turned slowly to face Francis, their eyes meeting level.

"So. Well. Um. Thank you for your company." Matthew found himself reverting to politeness, as he always did when slightly nervous. "And for asking me to dinner. I had a wonderful time."

"I can not apologise enough for earlier..." Francis looked down at the ground and ran a hand through his loose blond hair. "Ah, it was a complete disaster."

Matthew snickered softly. "Well, yes. But interesting."

Francis sighed dramatically and raised his eyes from the ground to the sky. "How I wanted out first date to be perfect and romantic, darling. Not… 'interesting.'"

"Oh, it wasn't so bad." Matthew was actually rather relieved that Francis was not always as suave and perfectly charming as he had been at first. Matthew did not know how long he could have kept up with that. "Besides, this is turning out rather 'perfect and romantic' right here."

"Hm." Francis sighed softly and lowered his eyes again. "I do believe you may be correct, Monsieur."

Matthew's heart beat faster at Francis' piercing stare. "Besides, I enjoyed meeting your family. And I'll get to meet more of your friends tomorrow also, won't I?"

Francis' eyes narrowed, his expression slightly devious. "You're meeting far too many from my side. I shall have to get even, my dear."

Matthew shrugged apologetically. "It's only Alfred on my side, I'm afraid. Or, well, there is Kumajiro."

Francis' eyebrows shot up. He looked rather thrown. "Kumajiro?"

Matthew met Francis' eye as evenly as he could manage. "Yes. He lives with me. He shares all my secrets, and sleeps in my bed every day, and watches over me every evening." At Francis' puzzled expression, Matthew gave in and smiled. "My teddy bear."

Francis' face softened and he chuckled lightly. "Well. Just when I think you can get no more adorable, my darling."

Matthew looked down and wondered just where this was going: the constant eye contact, the hand brushing, this fluttering heat and this warm, familiar feeling. But he didn't want to push, he didn't want to mistake this, he didn't… but then Francis took a step towards him and rested his hand lightly on Matthew's hip. Matthew's eyes flew up and his lips parted. Heat spread from Francis' hand over his hip, across his back, through his stomach, shooting lower and spreading like fire. Francis' blue eyes burned into his and sent a flutter through Matthew's shoulders. He leant closer and, just as Matthew realised Francis was about to kiss him, he closed the final gap himself. Their lips touched firmly, softly, and Matthew moaned, unable to stop it.

This culmination of the week's glances and touches and playful words shot through Matthew like a jolt of electricity. He rested his hands on Francis' shoulders, then lowered them over his back. Francis pulled him closer by the hips and thrust further into the kiss. And oh, not that Matthew had a lot to compare him to, but Francis was the most amazing kisser in Matthew's limited experience. His tongue so light and firm, his lips gentle but strong, his soft hair tickling Matthew's cheek and smelling faintly of lavender; the overwhelming sense of Francis' feel and scent, the taste of tomato and mint and still the faintest hint of chocolate… Matthew reluctantly broke the kiss to gasp for air, faintly aware that he had barely breathed for a minute or so. He laughed shakily, his arms still holding to Francis firmly.

"Well," said Francis breathlessly, his lips brushing Matthew's as he spoke, "I suppose it is true what they say about hockey players."

Matthew quickly wracked his brains for an explanation. "Something about sticks?"

Francis stifled an amused snicker. "No. That they find an opening and get it in." Matthew just stared for a moment, a little thrown off. Thankfully, Francis clarified. "Hockey players. Find an opening. It's a dreadfully bad pun, I know. Um... this is terribly awkward. Can we just kiss again, please?"

Matthew nodded quickly. "Yes." The second kiss was as powerful as the first, but with bright, uncontainable laughter rising between their lips. Matthew had never felt something so right as this, so comfortable, so perfectly natural and easy and knee-weakingly arousing.

But what now? Was Francis going to ask him to come in? Was that how this worked? Matthew had only been on a few dates, but from what everyone said Francis seemed to have been on so many. He suddenly worried again just what that meant. Then he worried about that strange look of conflict in Francis' eyes, that slight uncertainty in his face, and again Matthew feared he had done something wrong. He started to drop his hands, but Francis grasped his arms at the last minute. "Have breakfast with me."

Matthew could only nod. "What time do you want me?" The words came out breathier than he intended. Francis groaned.

"Don't tempt me. As early as you can be here, darling. I start baking at four."

Matthew bit his lip, nodded, and tried to tell himself this was a good sign. Francis wasn't inviting him in, but he obviously still wanted to see him – he probably just wanted to take things slowly. "I like to sleep in on Saturday," said Matthew in what he hoped was an indifferent tone. "Shall we say, eight?"

"Mm." Francis pulled Matthew close again by the waist. All thoughts of indifference flew away at Francis' lips on his cheek, his lips, his jaw, his ear… "I shall await your arrival with bated breath and maple syrup crepes."

Matthew laughed shakily at the hot breath on his ear. "Then I shan't be late… mon cher."

Next Chapter

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

#la patisserie de la rose chapter 3

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nosecrinklewrites · 5 years

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twitter fic #2

Hux was a planner. Ever since he had been gifted his very first planner, on the first day of high school, everything in his life had been planned down to the most minute detail. Everything was meticulously written down and planned in advance.

Including his sexual debut.

Losing one's virginity in high school? Too much of a cliché (also likely to be messy and unpleasant).

Losing one's virginity in college? Also a cliché, but much more tasteful.

Losing one's virgnity after college? No, that would ruin the sexual experimentation period he had planned. Hux simply needed to make his debut, so he could move on to the experimental phase. Then he would have it out of his system by the time he got his master's.

His plan was perfect. Now it was just a matter of finding the perfect candidate. It would have to be someone older. Someone experienced. His fellow freshmen were obviously out of the question. And it had to be a man.

Hux believed himself to be a gay man, but he kept an open mind. After all, that was what the experimental phase was for. But his first had to be a man.

So, Hux made a list in his planner. A detailed list with names and descriptions.

The list was revised over and over again, as the candidates' relationship status and/or sexual orientation took them off the list.

In the midst of revising, Hux encountered an unforeseen problem.

He had no idea what his type was.

Hux found a bench, on a busy part of campus and quietly considered the people walking by. What did he like? What physical traits spoke to him?

Hux made a new list

- They had to take care of their appearance.

- And dress well.

- Have nice hair.

- Tall?

It was a waste of a lovely afternoon and Hux wasn't any closer to a conclusion.

Hux continued his research in his dorm. He perused instagram and various websites, trying to get a feel for what kind of man made his heart race. Of course, it wasn't a necessity. The candidate didn't have to make him feel anything other than arousal.

But since Hux didn't date in high school (he was much too busy with his extracurriculars to even entertain the thought (and no one ever asked him)), he might as well figure it out. No time like the present.

While waiting for class to begin, Hux was rewriting his list af attractive traits (with colored pens). He had decided he had a fairly firm grasp on what type of man he was looking for now.

Until his professor made an announcement.

"Class! I would like to introduce a grad student of mine. Kylo, stand up, please? Kylo will be teaching this class next semester, so he will be here and observe how it's done, for the remainder of the semester."

Oh no.

It was The One.

An absolute mammoth of a man, dressed in jeans and a hoodie. He looked nothing like the men on Hux's list. He didn't possess any of the traits on the attractive traits list either.

But Hux knew.

He had to have him.

New plan. Hux needed a new plan. Seduction was out of the question. Seduction was for relationships. Also, Hux had no idea how to do that. He would just. Introduce himself. Proposition the man. Like an adult. Maybe explain why?

No. No, that was a bad idea. Explaining it would imply no one else was interested in Hux. (They weren't, but Kylo didn't need to know that.) He should revise his planner, set aside time to come up with a plan of attack.

Hux came to the painful realization that he should have paid more attention to his peers; engaged in social activities more often. If it had been one of his father's associates, Hux would have known exactly how to make his proposition. But Kylo was a peer.

Luckily for Hux, the answer to his metaphorical prayers came all on its own.

Right as Hux arrived for class, Kylo left a stack of flyers on their professor's desk. Curious, Hux skimmed the text. A free ("trans inclusive!") sex ed seminar, hosted by the art department.

"It's super chill."

Hux startled and turned, his wide eyes meeting Kylo's. "Pardon?"

"The seminar. We do it once a semester."

"We? You speak at this thing?"

"Yeah," Kylo smiled kindly.

"It's important. To me."

"I'll be there!" Hux's mouth said, without any input from his brain.

Kylo smiled and watched while Hux shoved the flyer into his bag, and stumbled his way up the stairs to his seat. He couldn't see Kylo from way up there, but it was better that way. For his grade's sake.

Hux was under the impression that he had been very thorough, while conducting his research in preperation for college. The sexual relations part.

Hux was wrong.

Terribly, terribly wrong.

Kylo was one of three speakers, at the seminar. Thank God, Kylo was gonna be the one to guide him through his first time. Hux would be in good hands.

Hands the size of shovels.

It was entirely possible Hux missed some vital points while distracted by said hands.

After a series of very comprehensive presentations, the attendees were encouraged to mingle and ask any questions that they did not feel comfortable asking infront of the whole room. Hux waited patiently for the crowd to thin out. Rejection was a very real possibility.

He felt overdressed, even though he'd swapped his usual button up with a nice polo shirt. Kylo was wearing a hoodie and jeans ensemble again, sporting a cluster of pins in various different rainbow configurations. Hux knew they represented LGBT identities, but he wasn't well versed in LGBT affairs.

Kylo took notice of Hux waiting around for him and waved him closer. "I don't think we were formally introduced. I'm Kylo Ren."

"Armitage Hux. Please, call me Hux."

Kylo smiled kindly as his hand engulfed Hux's.

Hux took a deep breath and ignored the way Kylo's warm hand against his skin, made his heart race. "I have some questions."

"That's what I'm here for," Kylo smiled. "Go ahead."

"Are you attracted to men?"

Kylo was visibly thrown by the question, crossing his arms across his chest. "Yes?"

"Are you in a relationship?"

Kylo frowned. "Those are not the kind of questions I was referring to. But no, I'm not."

Hux nodded.

This was it.

"I have not yet made my sexual debut. I would like to do so, and I have been looking for the right partner. I believe that you would be a good choice." He cleared his throat, "I would like for you to be the first person I have sex with."

Kylo gaped at him. "What the actual fuck, Hux."

"Did I not make myself clear?" Hux frowned.

Kylo grunted and put his hands on his hips. He looked away. Then back at Hux. Then away again.

"You–You've been here for two hours, listening to us, and this is what you decide to do?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I knew I was going to ask before I got here."

Kylo made a choking sound and took a few steps backwards. "Did you not hear any of the presentations?"

Hux couldn't figure out if he was being rejected or not. "Of course I did. You said everyone have sex differently. This is how I do it."

"You're not having sex! You don't know that yet!" Kylo said, on the edge of hysteria. "Are you– Are you okay? Did something happen? Do you need help?" Kylo asked, moving back into Hux's personal space. "I sure as hell need help," he added, under his breath. "I don't think I'm qualified for this."

Hux crossed his arms and huffed. "If you don't want to, you can just say no. There's no need to be rude."

Kylo took a deep breath and rubbed his hands down his face. "Ok, I need you to walk me through your thought process here."

Hux looked at him for a moment. Kylo was awfully pretty up close.

"Well. I haven't had sex before, and there's only so much you can learn through research alone, so I believe having an experienced partner is the way to go. You're older than I am and you're very attractive, so I'm assuming you have experience. And I'm attracted to you."

Kylo blinked. "I– I have no idea how to reply to that."

"Are you rejecting me?"

"I have no idea what I'm doing."

Hux couldn't help but pout a little. If Kylo wasn't experienced, maybe he should take another look at his list of candidates. "But you have had sex, yes?"

"Yeah, but," Kylo closed his eyes. "Why did I answer that. No, ok, listen. Sex is– it's organic, ok? You can't just plan it like that. You can't put it in a spreadsheet and go this is what I'm gonna do. You can't do that, Hux. Especially not when you have zero experience."

Hux felt a little self conscious and put his hands in his pockets, averting his eyes. "I didn't put it in a spreadsheet. And why can't I plan it? I plan everything else. I like planning!"

Kylo's demeanor shifted minutely. He looked around the room, before moving closer to Hux.

"Listen, I– I'm not mad, ok? But I think you need to talk to someone about this, and I'm not sure I'm the right person for you to talk to."

Hux bit his lip. He didn't have anyone to talk to. He had a dormmate, but he'd rather die a virgin than talk to him about this.

"Why can't I talk to you?"

"If you have feelings for me, you might not be honest and just try to please me. It would be a waste of time."

Hux furrowed his brows. "I said I found you attractive, I didn't say I have feelings for you."

Kylo went bright red, all the way up to the tips of his ears. "O-oh."

One of the volunteers called out for Kylo. The last of the attendees were being shuffled out of the room, while the volunteers were cleaning up.

Kylo looked at Hux, at a loss for words.

Hux had truly lost control of the situation. The night had not gone to plan at all. He had to regain control. "Tuesday."

"What?"

"Tuesday. After class. Are you busy?"

Kylo shook his head. "I usually just go over the notes from class and nap."

"Let's meet after, then. You can explain to me why you think this is the wrong way for me to go about having sex - in depth - and I'll explain why you're wrong," he smiled.

"I'm not," Kylo replied, firmly.

"But you will meet with me?"

Kylo sighed. "Yes."

Tuesday, sitting in a secluded corner of the library, Hux was staring at Kylo. "I'm serious, Hux. Not everyone starts having sex in college."

Hux nodded. "Some do it in high school."

"And some do it after college, or they wait till they're married."

"Right. Religious people."

"And people who aren't ready. Some people don't have sex at all, and that's ok too."

Hux wrinkled his nose. "Why wouldn't you want to have sex?"

Kylo thumped his head against the wall behind him. "You were at the sex ed lecture for two hours, Hux."

Hux nodded again. "Yes, and I was listening, but that doesn't mean what you said made sense."

Kylo sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his hair (his luscious, bouncy, divine looking hair). "Alright. Tell me what you want your first time to be like."

"What do you mean?"

"What are you picturing when you think about it? Rose petals? Candles? Back of a car?"

Hux opened his mouth to reply, but.

He didn't have an answer.

He only ever pictured what came after.

Kylo looked at him softly. "Don't you want it to be nice?"

"I– I don't know."

Kylo scooted closer and put his hand on Hux's shoulder. "Your first time should be with someone you trust, someone who makes you feel safe. You're sharing your body with someone else. That's a big deal, even when you trust them. Have you done anything with anyone before?"

Hux looked at his hands. "I wasn't allowed to date, when I lived at home. Not that anyone asked me, but. No. I haven't done anything."

"Don't you wanna do that first, then? Have a first date, a first kiss?"

Hux felt his throat tighten up. He hastily turned his head, not wanting Kylo to see.

"There's no deadline on these things, Hux. Don't rush into it just because you think you should."

Hux swallowed thickly. He should've paid attention earlier – were they truly alone?

"What if," he had to clear his throat to get the words out. "What if no one wants me?" He glanced at Kylo.

Kylo didn't want him - why would anyone else? If he could get really good at sex, maybe someone would be willing to overlook how boring he was.

"Can I see the list?"

Hux rubbed his eyes. "What list?"

"What did you call it? The candidate list?"

"Oh."

Hux retrieved his planner from his satchel and handed it over. Kylo eyed him at the size of the planner, but didn't comment.

Hux found the tab that corresponded with the list and opened the planner to the correct page. The soft cover of the planner made it impossible for Kylo to hold it in his hands, so he balanced it on his thighs. Kylo read the list and made a soft sound. "So, why these people?"

"They're hot?"

Kylo looked unimpressed. Hux curled in on himself and muttered, "They look kind. And experienced. And confident."

Kylo hummed. "I'm not on here."

"I wasn't gonna ask everyone. I was gonna narrow it down until there was only one left. Then I saw you, and the list became redundant."

Kylo sighed softly. "I'm not sure I'm the right person for this, Hux."

Kylo may very well be right, but Hux didn't want him to be. "You haven't said no yet."

"I know."

Hux looked on in horror as Kylo turned to the next page in Hux's planner. Two of the pages were stuck together with a misplaced sticky tab, meaning Kylo skipped the page with the attractive traits list entirely, and ended up on the list of sex acts Hux had planned for his experimental phase.

Kylo audibly swallowed. The page was titled quite descriptively. There was no way to explain it away.

"I feel like I should point out I didn't tell you to turn the page. In my private planner."

Kylo closed the planner and laced his fingers on top of it. "I might be overstepping here, but I don't think you should do this. Any of it."

Hux didn't know how to respond. He looked at Kylo, brows furrowed.

"I think you're looking for something, but I don't think this is it."

Hux rose to his feet and took the planner from Kylo's lap. "You're wrong," he said, with finality. He jammed the planner into his bag and stormed out of the library.

Looking for something? What on Earth would he be looking for? He just wanted to have sex! Everyone else was having sex, but Kylo wasn't telling them to stop. And he still hadn't outright rejected Hux's proposition - what was Hux supposed to think! Honestly, Kylo was being very rude and if he hadn't been so good looking, Hux would've retracted his offer long ago.

Hux just wanted to touch someone and be touched in return! Was that really too much to ask for? He was constantly surrounded by people, strangers, who were having the time of their life! Laughing and talking and kissing and making plans – was it wrong to want that too?

Sure, his studies kept him busy, but he still had free time. Was it really so bad to want to spend that time with someone? It didn't even have to be se–

Oh no.

Hux spent the whole class on Tuesday, glaring daggers at the back of Kylo's head. The bastard was right. Hux had been stewing in his own misery for an entire week, being forced to realize how terribly lonely he truly was.

He needed an answer. A final answer, so he could move on.

Hux had been talking himself up for days, in preparation for the confrontation; but when it finally came down to it, he couldn't do it. Kylo looked just as uncertain as Hux felt.

Kylo was smiling softly, but he did not look happy. "Hux," he said, gently. "Hey."

Instead of demanding an answer, what came out of his mouth was, "Are you busy this weekend?"

Kylo shook his head. "No, why?"

"Would you like to go to the cinema with me?" At the look of surprise on Kylo's face, Hux hastily added, "There's a film I'd like to see, but, I don't want to go alone."

Kylo was fumbling with his belongings, trying to pack his bag without taking his eyes off of Hux for too long; as if he was a flight risk. "Wouldn't you rather go with someone you know?"

Just tell him, Hux thought.

"I don't know anyone else."

Surprisingly, Kylo freely offered his phone number. Hux didn't end up needing it, as Kylo showed up on time, exactly when and where they'd agreed. Hux braced himself for having his taste in films ridiculed as they paid for their tickets, but Kylo didn't as much as blink.

The fact that Kylo wasn't opposed to political thrillers, only made him more attractive in Hux's eyes. They hadn't discussed whether this little outing was, in fact, a date. In Hux's mind it was. A date wasn't inherently a romantic endeavour, or so Hux thought to himself.

The theatre wasn't very full. Hux and Kylo were rather secluded, in their corner of the room. They had laughed earlier, when they discovered they both preferred chocolates and sweets over popcorn. Kylo kept offering his bag of M&Ms during the course of the film. Hux didn't remember the last time he'd been to the cinema. Or anywhere for fun, really.

He kept glancing at Kylo. When the M&Ms where gone, Kylo put the empty packet in his pocket, and put his hands on his thighs. Hux couldn't take his eyes off of them. His fingers were long and pale in the light from the projector, bright against the black of his jeans.

Before he did it, Hux knew it was a silly thing to do. Especially considering everything they'd talked about. He gently put his own, smaller hand on top of Kylo's. Hux studiously kept his eyes on the screen, even though he could feel Kylo's eyes on his face.

He couldn't help but hold his breath until Kylo reacted. He was expecting Kylo to pull his hand away, or maybe get up and leave. But he didn't.

Kylo turned his palm and laced their fingers. His hand felt even bigger than when they'd shaken hands. Hux marveled at how much thicker Kylo's fingers felt, in between his own. He knew his hands were on the delicate side of the spectrum, but he almost felt dainty in comparison.

Once Hux was confident Kylo wasn't going to pull away, he gently tugged their joined hands into his own lap. Kylo looked alarmed for a moment, arm tensing, effectively halting the move.

Kylo looked sheepish when he realized Hux wasn't putting his hand on his dick. Hux just wanted to hold Kylo's hand in both of his own.

Kylo let his arm go slack and Hux made a soft pleased sound. Using two hands was much better. The film couldn't hold his attention anymore.

Hux played with Kylo's fingers while trying to figure out how to phrase his next proposal. Sex wasn't on the table – but maybe something else was? Hux looked at Kylo in the dark. His hair looked soft and bouncy. So did his lips. No, plump was a better word.

If Kylo wouldn't be his first sexual experience, maybe he'd be Hux's first something else. (Hux had already decided that they were on a date, which made Kylo his first date ever. But he wasn't gonna tell him that.)

Kylo licked his lips, practically making the decision for him.

"Kylo?"

"Mm?"

Hux leaned over the armrest and spoke quietly. "You can say no–"

"Not this again, Hux," he sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"No, no, I'm not asking for sex."

"Well, thank God."

"I want you to be my first kiss."

Kylo look a little stunned. "What?"

"Hear me out," Hux went on and gave his hand a little squeeze. "I just wanna know what it feels like. I'm not asking for anything else. If you don't want to see me ever again, after today, I respect that and I won't approach you again. But you have to answer. Yes or no?"

Kylo considered him for a drawn out moment. "Just a kiss?"

Hux nodded in affirmation.

"Just one?"

"I promise."

Kylo looked around them. The closest people were five rows away. He looked back at Hux and nodded once. "One kiss."

"One kiss," Hux repeated, heart racing.

His palms were getting sweaty. It was a relief when Kylo let go of his hand; right up until his cupped Hux's face. All the blood in his body rushed to his cheeks. There was no way Kylo couldn't feel the heat of the blood against his palms.

Hux wished his night vision was better. He couldn't make out the details of Kylo's face very well.

Kylo took his sweet time, just sitting there, holding Hux's face. It was unnerving, but Hux didn't dare move, let alone say anything. He was on the cusp of actually getting what he wanted, for once. If he ruined it, he would never be able to forgive himself.

Kylo sat up, leaning halfway out of his seat, in a move that couldn't be comfortable – but he was moving in. He tilted his head slightly, nose fitting perfectly beside Hux's, the tip of it pressing into his cheek. Their lips met and Hux forgot to breathe. Kylo's lips were soft and warm against his. He didn't notice his eyes closing.

Kylo let it last far longer than Hux thought he would.

The air rushed from his lungs when Kylo pulled back. Without thinking, Hux cupped the back of Kylo's head and pulled him into another kiss. Kylo laughed into the kiss, lips parted. Hux felt clumsy when he moved his lips, but it didn't deter him.

Kylo was smiling against his lips, trying to follow what Hux was doing. Hux was contemplating how to get his tongue in Kylo's mouth, when Kylo gently pushed him back with a hand on his chest. Hux blinked sluggishly, lips still pursed.

"I agreed to one," Kylo laughed.

Hux winced. "I know, I'm sorry."

Kylo leaned back in his seat, smiling. "Did you like it?"

Hux covered his mouth, looking anywhere but Kylo. "I did." He tried his best to suppress the giggles that were trying to force their way out.

Kylo pulled the hand away from his face and laced their fingers again, resting their hands on the armrest between them. His thumb moved across Hux's knuckles, back and forth. They tried to pick the movie back up, but they were too busy sneaking glances at each other.

When they left the theatre, it felt like ten years had come and gone. The night air felt crisp against Hux's heated skin. Kylo was still holding his hand, which he persisted doing while he walked Hux home, which he had insisted on doing, like a gentleman.

Standing on the steps outside his dorm, Hux asked, "Would you like to come up?"

"I don't put out on the first date," Kylo smirked.

Hux blushed – it was a date!

"Are you sure I can't convince you?" Hux joked, even if it fell a little flat.

"Positive."

Feeling oddly hopeful, Hux added, "So, how many dates do I need to take you on?"

Kylo barked out a laugh. "You're such a little shit," he grinned and advanced on Hux. He crowded Hux against the door and kissed him again.

Hux happily parted his lips, and made a soft sound of surprise, when Kylo nipped at his tongue. Again, it ended much too soon for Hux's liking, but he held his tongue.

Kylo walked backwards for a few paces, getting ready to leave. "You busy next weekend?"

Hux's heart soared.

Kylo did end up being responsible for Hux's sexual debut, but it didn't happen till a year later. Hux was absolutely terrible. Luckily, Kylo was very fond of his boyfriend and insisted practice makes perfect.

And it did.

Eventually.

~ FIN

#kylux #wrote this on twitter #modern setting #first times #college au #awkward hux is awkward #also available on my ao3

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timelordthirteen · 5 years

Text

A Card for Mr. Gold 8/8 (complete!)

Mr. Gold/Belle, G

Summary: Mr. Gold receives a card on Christmas Eve.

Chapter Summary: Christmas morning and Gold has a surprise for Belle.

Notes: Oh my god I am the latest of the late with this. I feel behind on everything, but at least the whole family is well again. There might be one more chapter to this, but I'm not sure, so I'm calling it good here, a little earlier than I intended. Hope you don't mind. For the 31 Days of Fandomas prompt #25 - Ribbon.

[AO3]

In the early morning, Gold awoke to a strange feeling.

It was the feeling of not being alone, of having the warm companionship of another person just a few inches away, tucked under the same blanket. He smiled and turned his head to see Belle sleeping peacefully, her hand still touching his. After several minutes of laying there, enjoying the calm of his first Christmas morning - the first one he’d acknowledged as such - in years, he sighed and sat up. Though he was loathe to leave the cozy, warm cocoon that his bed had become in the magic of Belle’s presence, an idea had formed that he needed to act on. Grinning to himself, he selected a suit, shirt, and tie for the day, and slipped into the bathroom to change, hoping he could get to his shop and make it back to the house before she woke up.

An hour later, Gold was cracking eggs against the edge of a glass mixing bowl when he heard a soft shuffle behind him.

He looked over his shoulder, smiling crookedly. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” Belle rubbed at her eyes, the sleeve of the pajama shirt she wore half covering her hand.

He never noticed how short she really was without her sky high heels. She looked so small and precious in the oversized clothes, with the morning light streaming in through the kitchen windows.

He swallowed and turned back to the bowl, cracking a second egg over the side. “Sleep well?”

“I did,” she replied. “You?”

He could hear the smile in her voice. “Yes. Yes, it - it was -” Wonderful. Amazing. Something I long to do every night for the rest of my life? “Fine.”

Her hand touched him and he stopped with the whisk in his hand. “I’m sorry about last night,” she said.

Her voice was small and quiet, and he set the bowl down and turned. “Whatever for?”

Belle shrugged. “For invading your space and pushing my way into your bed.” She pressed a hand to her forehead and sighed. “God that sounds awful when I say it like that.”

“Hey, it wasn’t -”

“No,” she insisted. “It was. I - I probably had too much to drink, and it was Christmas Eve, and I just -” She stopped and sighed again.

He could see her shoulders sag with the weight of something, and frowned. “What is it?” She shook her head and he stepped closer, his lips twisting at a smile. “Belle.”

She looked up at him through her eyelashes as she bit her lip. “I was okay until Papa fell ill. It didn’t bother me, but now -”

Gold’s head dipped as she looked down, trying to catch her gaze. “But now - what?”

She sighed again. “My mom, she, um - on Christmas Eve.”

The way she choked on the last word made his heart break. His arms came up, reaching around her at the same time she fell against him. He could have never imagined that the sweet, bubbly librarian carried so much pain and loss, perhaps as much as his own.

“Oh, Belle. Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

He held her gently, his arms around her shoulders as she leaned her forehead against his chest. She didn’t so much cry as breathe steadily until she’d calmed, leaving the front of his shirt feeling warm and damp. He didn’t mind though. The chance to hold her close was wonderful, even through her sadness, and he savored it, foolishly longing for more.

When Belle pulled back, he let his arms fall, immediately missing the feeling of her pressed against him. She fit in his arms so well, her sleight stature a good match for his own. It would be easy to hug her or kiss her, and he kicked himself mentally for letting his thoughts wander to such things. He’d occasionally entertained the notion in private, usually after she went out of her way to talk with him, crossing the street in the morning simply to say hello, or when she smiled knowingly at him over a cup of coffee at Granny’s while Leroy went on about some rumor or bit of gossip he’d heard.

He was aware he’d been nursing a crush on her for years, but having her in his house had sent his heart fluttering and his mind wandering. As she wiped her eyes with the cuffs of the pajama shirt she wore - his pajama shirt - he could already feel the blackness that would overtake him as soon as she left, taking all her brightness and beauty.

People like him didn’t deserve people like Belle in their lives.

“Sorry,” she said again, giving him a smile he could see was forced.

“It’s no matter, truly.” He wanted to reach for her again and hold her until her smile reached her eyes and she elbowed him to make him stop.

One of her shoulders lifted in a shrug, and she turned to lean against the counter. “I warned you I was kind of a lot to deal with.”

Gold moved to stand in front of her again, smirking lightly. “You’re wrong.” She looked up at him, her eyes shiny and questioning, and he very nearly bent and kissed her. “You’re - you’re not. You’re a delight to deal with.”

Belle grinned at that and ducked her head, and he stepped back, taking up the mixing bowl and whisk again.

“Pancakes?” he asked, and she brightened. “With...chocolate chips?”

Her eyes went wide. “My mother... she - she used to make those on Christmas morning too.”

Gold's face dropped. “Oh, I - I can make something else if -”

“No. No, that's perfect,” she said, taking his arm in hers and giving it a small squeeze. “Thank you.”

Not quite knowing what to say with her looking up at him that way, and pressing his arm to her body, he awkwardly offered her coffee. That seemed to settle the situation and breakfast continued pleasantly.

“Have you called your son yet?” she asked as they moved back into the living room some time later.

Gold shook his head and sighed. “Not yet. I know I should but -”

“But what if he hangs up on you? What if he tells you off? What if he just doesn't answer at all?”

He frowned. “Yes, thank you for that succinct list of my fears.”

She was still wearing the pajamas he'd loaned her as she curled into the same corner of the couch as last night, her hands warming themselves on a second cup of coffee. He felt oddly overdressed and out of place in his own home, and glanced towards the Christmas tree, wondering if his earlier plans were too presumptuous.

Her smile was knowing. “You think you're the only person to have to make an awkward phone call to someone they love who may or may not want to talk to them?”

He was curious about that, but let it go. “I'll call him later.”

When she gave him another look, he added a promise, and hoped that would be the end of it.

“What’s that?” Belle asked, sitting forward and staring at the bottom of the Christmas tree.

A small wrapped box sat beneath it and Gold could feel his palms start to sweat. He chided himself again for being such a hopeful idiot, but waking up in the early morning beside her had made him do something mad.

“Oh, um - that’s just…”

He started to bend forward, but she slipped off the couch and onto her knees in front of the tree. The way she reached for the present was almost childlike, her eyes widening and her mouth opening in a smile. She picked up the box and turned to look at him, her lips pressing together as her eyebrows lifted.

Gold blew out a breath and gave her a half smile. “That’s, uh, for you.”

She sat back, staring down at the package in her hands, her thumbs running over the edges. It was a square box about two inches high, wrapped in a deep blue paper and tied with gold ribbon. He had a stash that he kept on hand in the shop in case someone needed something gift wrapped last minute. The blue made him think of her eyes and the gold, well, that had been silliness on his part.

“Why?” she asked softly. “You didn’t have to.”

Her overbright eyes looked up at him and he shook his head. “I wanted to.”

She moved back to sit on the sofa, setting the present in her lap, her eyes fixed on it. “When?”

“This morning,” he said, fighting the urge to move closer. “While you were asleep.”

“You didn’t have to,” she repeated.

Gold sighed and laid his hand over hers. “Belle.” He waited for her to look at him and then smiled. “Open it.”

Belle started to grin as she plucked at the ribbon, taking it off whole and laying it over the back of her neck like a scarf. Then her nails tore into the paper, peeling it down the sides before balling it up and setting it between them. Underneath it was a white box and she stopped, eyeing it for a moment.

She plucked off the top and gasped. “Oh, Rumford…”

He watched as she carefully lifted out the heavy paper card with the earrings punched through it, holding it up until they dangled and rattled against each other.

Her hand came up to touch the single teardrop pearl that hung on a find gold chain around her neck. “They - they match my…”

“Your necklace,” he finished, swallowing hard. “Yes.”

She frowned and looked at him. “But how?”

Gold gave her a half smile and shrugged. “You looked at them the first time you were in my shop. I remember I offered to pull them out for you, and you seemed almost startled, like you’d forgotten someone else was there when you saw them. But I noticed they matched your necklace perfectly.”

Her eyes started to water and he felt his throat tighten. “I don’t see many teardrop pearls like that. It’s an older style. But later, I think we were in Grannys? And you were, uh, you were fiddling with it while you waited.”

She looked down at her fingers doing just that and smiled. “I noticed you noticing my fiddling.”

“You did,” he said, laughing softly. “And you told me it was your mother’s.”

“You remembered that?” she asked, letting go of the necklace and turning on the sofa to face him. “That was...years ago.”

Gold nodded and looked down at the brocade fabric of the cushion. “I remember most things about - about you.”

He felt her move, saw her pajama clad leg come down on the couch very near his hand, and swallowed hard before he looked up. “Belle, I -”

Instantly her lips were on his, pressed softly but insistently. There was no mistaking that she meant to kiss him, and his stomach flipped even as the rest of him seemed frozen in place. When she pulled back, her eyes met his, and he knew every part of him was hers.

“I’m sor -” she started to say, but Gold reached up and caught the ends of the ribbon draped around her neck and pulled her to him, kissing her soundly.

This time when they broke apart, they were both grinning widely.

“I was going to say I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything,” she said, her hand trailing down the length of his tie.

Gold shook his head and smirked, as he pulled the ribbon off of her slowly. “I think I got exactly what I wanted.”

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #belle x mr. gold #christmas fic #my rumbelle fic #fic #a card for mr. gold #31 days of fandomas #fandomas 2018

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kcookendrick · 6 years

Text

you&me baby

Who: Adam Levine and Anna Kendrick (anam) @hfamelevine

When: October 8th, 2018

Where: A restaurant in LA, California

What: Adam comes home for a bit during tour. The two have a date night but they bring Dusty along and Anna realizes this is what her future is going to be

Anna: With Adam being home, she couldn't be happier and having Dusty here with them just felt better. It was date night, they haven't had a date night in a really long time and even though Dusty was with them it didn't matter to Anna. Wearing a pink dress, with wedges and her hair half up, half down Anna finished getting Dusty ready. She threw on a dress for the two year old, and a cardigan considering it was a little chilly at night. Anna knew they were going to dinner, but she didn't know where. She hoped she wasn't over dressed. Picking Dusty up and placing her on her hip, Anna grabbed the diaper bag and walked into their bedroom "Hi baby, you ready to go?" Anna questioned, and Dusty laughed "Daddy!" the two year old yelled.

Adam: He was running himself into the ground with all of this traveling. Sure, he did a good job of hiding it, but he was exhausted and running himself to the ground. While he was home for the next couple of days, he had asked Behati if he could take Dusty for tonight since he and Anna would be going to the AMA’s tomorrow and he wanted to see his daughter. While he was busy getting ready, Anna was getting herself ready as well as Dusty, and once they had come into the bedroom, Adam smiled a little at the sight of his fiancée and daughter. “Well, don’t my girls look stunning?” He teases, letting out a small laugh. “You look so pretty, Dusty! Did Anna help?”

Anna: Anna didn't want to keep Adam out late tonight, considering he has been traveling back and forth. The brunette knew he was exhuasted, and Anna didn't want him to get sick again. Putting the diaper bag down on their bed, and holding onto Dusty, Anna smiled softly as Adam spoke. Laughing a little, Anna looked at Dusty and the two year old smiled "Yes!" She said, and then Anna kissed her cheek "Should we tell daddy that we wanted to match?" She questioned, and pointed to the pink dresses. "I gave her a sweater cause it's a little cold out tonight, surprisingly. You look handsome babe. How are you feeling?" She questioned, and walked over to kiss him with Dusty stuck in the middle.

Adam: This was the first time that Adam and Anna were going out together and taking Dusty with them. Sure, they were only going to dinner, but it didn’t matter. This would be what it was like when Adam and Anna were married—and Adam didn’t want anything else in this moment. “She did such a good job! You both look so pretty.” Adam chuckled, “You wanted to match, huh? That’s so cute, babe.” He laughed a little, leaning over to gently press his lips to Anna’s. “I’m tired, but I’ll sleep later. You ready?”

Anna: When Adam pressed his lips to hers, she laughed within the kiss as Dusty started clapping. Stilling holing her on her hip, and Dusty still stuck in the middle of them Anna kissed him one more and pulled away "Say thank you daddy.." She said, and smiled at him. This is what it's going to be like, them... her, with a kid. Anna still couldn't believe that she had been so open to having a family and it made her scared but happy at the same time. "I mean, mine is actually a dusty rose color but hers is pink and poofy. I hope this place is fancy, otherwise I'd be overdressed." Anna said, and looked at him "I'm ready bub, just gotta grab the diaper bag. You wanna take your kid or?" She questioned, and smiled softly as Dusty was starting to rest her head on Anna's shoulder.

Adam: Giggling as she looked between Adam and Anna, Dusty’s eyes settled on Adam. “Thank you, dada!” She says, and Adam smiles a little before leaning forward to press his lips to Dusty’s cheek now. “You’re welcome, baby girl. Come here.” He nods, carefully taking Dusty from Anna so she could grab the diaper bag. “It’s fancy. I mean...not too fancy, but you’re fine.” He chuckles, leading her out of their bedroom and down the stairs. “Her car seat is all set in the car.”

Anna: As Adam kisses Dusty's cheek, Anna smiled softly. Taking a breath, she watched as he took Dusty into his arms. It bothered her so much that it was taking her a while to give them what they wanted, which was this. A family. Swallowing hard again, Anna took a sip of her water bottle that was left on the night stand and then grabbed the diaper bag "Good, cause youre turning me on with the growing beard and the way youre dressed right now." Anna said, and then ran her fingers through Dusty's hair.

Adam: Tilting his head, Adam looks back at Anna and lets out a small laugh. Normally, he would say something about Dusty being there with them but the two year old seemed more into the collar of Adam’s black buttoned down shirt as they made their way to the car and he carefully got Dusty settled in. “You shouldn’t start something you can’t finish right now.” He teases.

Anna: with them at the car, she watches as Dusty is placed in the carseat and when he opens his mouth to speak, Anna kisses him softly. She watches as Dusty starts to close her eyes, and didn't realize till now that it was a little late. The brunette double checked to make sure the car seat was locked in, and safe and that was the first time Anna had ever done that, she was surprised at herself "She.., she's okay right?" Anna questioned Adam

Adam: After getting Dusty settled into her car seat and making sure that the two year old was buckled in properly, Adam made his way to the front. Starting the car after getting in himself, he watched as Anna looked back and reached to make sure that the car seat was buckled in a second time, and he couldn’t help but to smile. “Yes, baby. She’s okay.” He whispers, leaning over to kiss her once more. “It’s a fifteen minute drive. She’ll be okay.”

Anna: Anna kissed Dusty's cheek, and the two year old smiled. Taking a breath, Anna shut Dusty's door and got into the passenger seat. Listening to Adam reassure her, Anna nodded her head and kissed him softly "If you say so."

Adam: “That’s cute, you know.” Adam whispers, soft tone in his voice as he kisses her back after a moment and then smiles a little in her direction. “You always say that you don’t know if you would be a good mom and then your instinct comes out like that and I know that you’re gonna be an amazing one

Anna: "I just, I was always surrounded by adults and work as a kid. So when I became older, babies weren't an option for me." Taking a breath, she leaned in and kissed his cheek and then looked back at Dusty "But that changed, and I'm glad that it did. I love her.., and I love you and I just.., I want this with you." Anna said, and looked out the window for a few moments.

Adam: “I know. No one blames you for that either, babe...” Adam starts, a few minutes later having pulled out of their driveway so he can start the drive to the restaurant waiting for the three of them. “It’s hard to decide that you...that you don’t want kids. Then you have to...tell your family, your friends. Eventually, the person that you’re with.” He clears his throat and then glances at her. “I...I was okay with it.” He whispers. “I still would have been okay with it, if you didn’t want it. It still...it still hasn’t registered with me yet that it changed for you.” He reaches his free hand over to rest on her thigh like he usually does, against her own. “I didn’t want it again. I didn’t realize I wanted it again until you met her...” He whispered. “So, you...you changed that for me too, and I love you too.”

Anna: "I.., know what Ben did and said was awful and he hurt me, but I just.. I think that I hurt him more when I told him I didn't want it when I had the pregnancy scare." Anna said, taking a breath, she looked back at Dusty and smiled as the two year old was passed out. "He wanted kids so badly, and I just.. I don't know." Anna wasn't sure why she was thinking about Ben right now, but Anna took a breath and chewed her lips "I know you were okay with it, but eventually you wouldn't of been, that's how it was with Ben. I told him from day one I didn't want kids, and he said he was okay with it but not really. I knew he wasn't." Anna said, and swallowed hard. "It still hasn't registered with me yet either, but the thought of us being a family..., I don't know." Anna smiled softly to herself, and placed her hand ontop of his, as it touched her thigh. "I love you, I'm sorry that I was drunk and an emotional wreck when I met her." Anna laughed a little.

Adam: “Baby, you can’t fault yourself for that, you know.” Adam says, shaking his head with a sigh. “I know, you feel like you hurt him and that’s okay. You couldn’t have made yourself want something that you didn’t, though.” He says, glancing at her once more as he watches her chew her lips again. “Babe. I’m not like that.” He says, shaking his head. “I’ve always been okay with just Dusty. If you looked at me tomorrow and said you didn’t want kids anymore, I would say okay and we’d move on. If you still didn’t want kids before we even decided to try for them, I would have said it’s fine. I love you, more than enough.” He says. “I...I want it with you, as long as you want it with me too. I love you.” He chuckles, “She might not remember, so if she ever asks when she’s older, we can leave out that you were drunk when you first met her.”

Anna: "I did want it though Adam..., after the pregnancy scare happened I did want it with him but I just.. I was scared." She said, taking a breath and the women played wit his hand as it was still resting on her thigh. "I know you're not, and I'm sorry that I always compare you to that but I.." Stopping herself, Anna listened to him speak and she couldn't help but get choked up "I love you more than anything, and I want to give you everything & more. I've never wanted something like this before, and since I met you and Dusty I want it so badly." Anna said, and leaned in to kiss his cheek again "I love you too. " She whispered, and then laughed a little "That was really stupid that I drove while I was drunk."

Adam: He nods his head as he listens to her, his fingers gently drumming against hers as she plays with his hand on her thigh anyway. “Babe, it’s...you deal with me every time I talk about my ex...or, at least just Anne. I know that’s not cool either, but I...at least I get it.” He leans over to quickly kiss her lips before looking back to the road. “I know, baby. I love you...so much, for that.” He pauses for a minute and then opens his mouth to say something else, but Dusty stops him instead. “Anna!”

Anna: Nodding her head while he talks about his ex's, Anna laughs within the kiss when she hears Dusty's voice "Yes sweetheart?" She questioned, and turned around to see Dusty smiling and wide awake now. It wasn't a long nap, but hopefully it would help in keeping the two year old calm in the restaurant "Were almost to dinner."

Adam: “Anna Anna Anna,” Dusty says, laughing as she claps her hands together. The admission makes Adam smile more than he already had been, it would never get old to him, how much Dusty had taken such a liking to Anna the way that she had. He pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant a few minutes later, parking the car. “I think we can go in through the back,” Adam says, “Less chance of cameras that way.”

Anna: Once he parked the car, Anna got out and opened Dusty's door. Unbuckling the two year old from the carseat, Anna picked Dusty up and placed her on her hip. Nodding at Adam's words, she grabbed the diaper bag and with her free hand took Adam's into hers. "You hungry baby love bug, hmm?" She asked Dusty

Adam: “Yeah! Yeah!” Dusty says, giggling as she rests her head back down on Anna’s shoulder, but then her head lifts again and she gasps. “Down! I walk!” She says, and Adam looks at her before letting out a small laugh of his own. “You wanna walk, D? You gotta hold Anna’s hand if you walk.” He says, his own fingers lacing through Anna’s.

Anna: As Anna put the two year old down, she held her tiny hand and smiled softly. This felt weird, walking hand in hand with a child but Anna didn't mind it. "Come on sweet pea, let's go get some food cause I'm hungry and I think daddy's hungry too. What do you think?" She asked, walking toward the back door of the restaurant.

Adam: “I’m sooo hungry, Dusty! We better get in there before a monster comes out of daddy!” He teases, playful tone in his voice. Once they make it inside, they were brought to their table and they ordered their drinks. Once Adam made sure that Dusty was settled in next to him, he kisses her cheek. “Do you know what you want, baby girl?”

Anna: "Oh no, we don't want a monster coming out of daddy. Do you think daddy will have the cookie monster come out of him?" Anna questioned the two year old, and once he arrived into the resturant she sat down and smiled when Adam kissed Dusty's cheek "Noodles!" Dusty yelled, and Anna laughed a little "I think she means pasta, does she even eat pasta?"

Adam: “Cookies!” Dusty started laughing at Anna’s words, which only made Adam start playfully laughing in return. “Oh, thanks, babe.” He teases, gently bumping her hip with his own. “Now we’re stuck with getting dessert after dinner too.” He teases. Once Dusty said what she wanted, Adam let out a laugh and nodded his head. “She does, yeah. Macaroni and Cheese, right Dusty?” Adam asks, and Dusty is grinning as she nods her head. “She likes Mac and cheese with chicken in it, so I usually get the grilled chicken cut up for her.”

Anna: "You /weren't/ going to get dessert?" Anna questioned her fiance, teasing him and raised her eyebrows. Anna leaned in to kiss his cheek softly and then listened to Adam talk. Smiling big when she heard that Dusty liked Mac n Cheese, Anna laughed "Dusty, did you know that Kraft Mac n Cheese themselves sent me a golden noodle necklace? I love Mac n Cheese so much, it's what I lived on when I first moved here." She was now talking towards Adam, but rubbed Dusty's cheek, and then continued to look at the menu.

Adam: “/I/ wasn’t planning on it, no. Now we have to.” He lets out a laugh when he kisses her cheek and the nodded his head. He opens his mouth to say something but then becomes enamered into the fact that Dusty was now paying attention to Anna rather than him. It made him smile, there was no better feeling than that one in knowing Dusty had taken such a liking to her. “Noodle!” Dusty says, laughing. “Daddy, I want!” Tilting his head, Adam chuckles. “See what you did now?” He joked.

Anna: "I mean, I'll give you dessert when we get home later daddy, but /yes/ we have to get it now for Dusty." Anna said, looking at him and then laughed a little at Dusty's words "I'll show you the necklace, /but/ you have to /promise/ not to eat it, okay?" Anna said, joking but chewed her lips and looked at Adam.

Adam: “Fine,” Adam whispers with a chuckle. “Deal. Just appease her with the necklace because she really wants one now.” He says, followed by assurance of the same thing when Dusty giggles at Anna’s words. “Okay! Promise!” He watches the interaction between Dusty and Anna, and then kisses Anna’s cheek once more.

Anna: "I used to wear it all the time, maybe when she's a bit older I can give it to her. I don't know if it'll fit, but we'll check it out." Anna said, and looked at Dusty. The women smiled softly, and Anna leaned in to kiss Adam "I love you." She whispered, and noticed that the two year old was smiling in her high chair.

Adam: Dusty gasps as she hears Anna’s words, and Adam laughs. “You hear that, D? That means you’ll have to be a good girl and we’ll see if Anna can get you a necklace.” He laughed a little, kissing Anna back gently. “I love you too.” He whispers. “And, I...I love you for loving my daughter.”

Anna: When Dusty gaps, Anna smiled big and pulled the high chair in closer to the table. She was in between the two, and Anna looked up at Adam "I.., I can't wait to have this with you." She whispered, and kissed him once more. When the waitress came, they ordered their food and Anna took a sip of her water.

&FIN

#&*para's #&*you and me baby #&*adam levine #{cause i got issues;you got em too}#{fucked around and got attached to you}#{i like me better when im with you}#{come back to me; always}

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richonnejustdesserts · 7 years

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Teacher’s Pet : A Richonne Round Robin Fanfic

A small town sheriff and preschool teacher find love thanks to the cutest little matchmaker around. [RATED: T]

Chapter 6 (written by @lovedmoviesb)

Rick glanced into his rearview mirror, appraising his appearance for what felt like the hundredth time that night. He felt absurd, really; it had been years since he wondered what others thought of his looks, long since passed the time in his life where insecurities commanded his thoughts. He adjusted the sleeves of his blue button-down shirt, wondering if he ought to have worn a tie.

“You got this,” he breathed, smoothing his hair back one last time. Shane’s words were ringing in his ears.

“Be yourself. Just smoother,” his friend had shrugged like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Glenn had been slightly more helpful. “She said yes to a date, right? She must like you.”

Rick focused on that thought as he made his way out of the car, padding his way up the front walk to Michonne’s modest brick house, and ringing the doorbell. With a start, he realized he’d left the flower he’d purchased for her in the car. He had half a mind to race back for it when her front door swung open.

“Rick,” she said his name like it was a song, the melody falling from her lovely lips like she enjoyed the sound of it.

“Michonne,” his voice was thick. The sight of her nearly caused him to choke on his own tongue. He had seen plenty of little black dresses in his 40-something years on earth, but never had they caused this reaction. “You look beautiful,” it was so much of an understatement that it might be criminal.

“Thank you,” she smiled gratefully, her head tilting slightly as she glanced down at herself. “Are you sure I’m not overdressed?”

Rick cursed himself for forgoing his tie, but managed to reassure her. “You look perfect.” From the locs twisted artfully into a large bun on the top of her head, to the graceful curves of her body in that dress, to the point of her slinky black shoes, she was a vision.

“You clean up pretty nice yourself, cowboy,” her compliment sent an instant blush racing to his cheeks.

“Just trying to keep up,” he grinned at her.

“Let me just grab my purse,” she spun around, reaching for something out of sight beyond her door. Rick was treated to the sight of the rear of her dress, the straps leaving her back nearly bare until the fabric began again just above her waist. His mouth ran dry. “Ready?” she asked a moment later, resurfacing with her purse.

“Ready,” Rick watched her lock up before offering his arm, leading her down her own driveway. Her smile at the single red rose he gifted her made the flower worth the effort, despite his misgivings about it being too old-fashioned.

“It’s beautiful,” it matched the color of her painted lips. Rick found himself entranced by the sight. Michonne surprised him when she broke the long stem, tucking the blossom into her hair as though it were an ornament. The effect was striking. “Where are we headed?” she asked conversationally, settling into his passenger seat.

“Someone told me you might like art,” he started the car, taking his eyes off her reluctantly. “I think you might have fun tonight.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she leaned back, getting comfortable as he steered them away from the house.

-l-l-l-l-

Michonne gripped the stem of her wine glass, attempting to focus on the painting ahead of her. King’s County may not have been the culture capitol of the world, but they gave it their best effort. The event tonight was crowded, couples milling around, clutching half-empty containers of wine and beer. Most of the crowd was congregated near the bar, but a few had made their way into the gallery. Michonne was doing her best to ignore them, staring instead at a rendering of a covered wagon in pastels.

Beside her, Rick nursed his beer, gazing quizzically at the wall in front of them. Michonne hid her smile as she took in his expression; Rick seemed to be a generally kind man, but he couldn’t hide his obvious distaste at the art in front of them.

“Do you like it?” she ventured, sipping her drink.

“It’s nice,” Rick hazarded a smile.

“Really?” Michonne appreciated his effort but was seconds away from laughing. She wondered if his lukewarm passion for art extended beyond the walls of this modest museum. She’d have to take him to a proper gallery one day.

“It…” he paused, taking a swig of his beer. “All of these paintings look the same,” he admitted, scrunching up his face. “I thought there might be something here not from Little House on the Prairie.”

Michonne laughed, the sound echoing off of the concrete floors and drawing attention from nearby spectators. Rick grinned at her, obviously pleased that his joke had landed well. “I think this might be more about the alcohol and less about the art,” she observed, finishing her glass.

“Then let me get you another,” Rick reached for cup.

“I’ll go with you,” she quickly volunteered, reluctant to be parted from him.

“Are you sure?” he looked surprised. “I think there’s another ten pictures of fields of wheat. That one down there even has a cow in it.” His lopsided grin was so endearing that Michonne found herself smiling back widely.

“We can always come back and look at it,” she promised, falling in step beside him.

“I’m sorry about this,” he apologized a few moments later, after both of their drinks had been refreshed. “I thought there might actually be something interesting in here.”

“I think it’s pretty interesting,” she glanced over at him, struck again by how handsome he looked. The navy color of his shirt played well with his eyes.

“You’re a nice person then,” laugh lines creased his face as he chuckled. “I’ve never been here before.”

“I was thinking of taking the kids,” Michonne took a sip to steady her nerves. She was enjoying being around Rick immensely, but the temptation to touch was almost unbearable. His hand hung close to hers, their skin brushing from time to time. Still, he seemed reluctant to hold it. She wondered if she should just bite the bullet and make the first move. “There’s supposed to be a decent children’s section.”

“Really?” this seemed to interest him. Rick’s eyes turned to a sign on the wall, locating the directions. “C’mon.” There was a spark in his eyes now that thrilled her.

“Rick,” Michonne scurried on her heels to keep up with his excited steps. “I’m sure it’s closed.”

“Probably,” he shrugged, smiling mischievously at her.

“Officer Grimes,” she mock gasped, “Are you suggesting we break the rules?”

They came to a stop in front of a roped off section. Rick looked around quickly. “Not break,” he shrugged. “Bend them. You have to test it out for the kids.”

“You’re right,” she nodded solemnly, her tone not matching the amusement on her face. “It has to be good enough for the kids. Judith is a harsh critic.”

“That she is,” his southern twang made Michonne laugh. With a flourish, he stepped over the rope, reaching back to her with his free hand. “C’mon,” he urged.

Laughing, her heart pounding against her chest, Michonne took his hand.

-l-l-l-l-

The light was low in this part of the museum, the colorful patterns of the wall just visible. Rick didn’t mind. He was far too focused on the softness of Michonne’s skin. He wondered what the rest of it felt like, wondered what it would be like to actually hold her. Just the act of holding her hand alone had him excited and nervous all at once.

“This is actually very nice,” Michonne’s voice was low and she stayed close to his side, brushing against him as they walked. “There’s some things in here I think the kids would love.”

They passed several short tables built for finger paints and crayons, and a large, brightly colored sculpture. A square booth off to the side drew Rick’s eye.

“What’s that?” he directed her attention to it, steering them both towards it. Her leg brushed against his and Rick bit down the urge to pull her closer to him.

“I’ve seen these!” Michonne lit up immediately. She set her wine down on the ground, releasing his hand. Disappointed, Rick watched her. “Let me show you,” she coaxed the beer out of his grip, tugging at both of his free hands. Willingly, he followed her.

“It’s tight in here,” it seemed necessary that he say this out loud. Michonne was mere centimeters in front of him, the bare skin of her back begging to be touched.

“It’s for kids,” she giggled, glancing over her shoulder at him. He touched the rose in her hair, amused. “Sit down,” she instructed, pushing against his chest lightly. Rick complied immediately. She lowered herself into his lap, leaning forward to a touch screen in front of them. Rick gripped the seat beneath him, desperately trying to keep his hands to himself.

“What’s this?” he attempted a question, keeping his eyes firmly above her tempting waistline.

“Smile,” she instructed, sitting up straight, leaning back into him with a goofy grin. Rick just managed to imitate her when a flash went off. The touch screen lit up with a photo of the two of them. “Hmmm…” Michonne hummed lowly, shifting in his lap. “What should I draw?”

Rick swallowed thickly, daring to shift himself closer to her under the guise of seeing better. “You’re going to draw on us?”

“Mm-hmm,” she was already tracing her fingers over the screen expertly, lines of red and green appearing. Rick watched amusedly, his hands coming around her waist, holding her lightly. She did not protest. “Voila!” she announced with a flourish a moment later, glancing back at him. Rick laughed immediately.

“Super Mario Bros?” she’d given him a bright red hat and bushy brown mustache to go along with her matching green ensemble. He marveled inwardly at quickly she was able to paint over them.

“I think you make a handsome Mario,” she turned in his lap, looking at him.

“Not as pretty as Luigi,” as funny as her art was, Rick was fully distracted now. His hand was brushing some of the bare skin on her back. He ran his thumb up and down, unable and unwilling to resist her.

She smiled, suddenly shy despite her previous boldness. Her fingers traced up and down his arms. “Want to take another one?” she asked.

“Maybe in a second,” Rick leaned forward, throwing caution to the wind, covering her beautiful mouth with his own.

She responded immediately, wrapping her arms around his neck, moaning lightly beneath his lips. Rick drew her closer, holding her tightly around the waist, slanting his head to deepen their lip lock. She parted her lips beneath his and he seized the opportunity, marveling at her taste like red wine and something he couldn’t identify, but knew he was now addicted to.

He came up for air reluctantly, opening his eyes to see Michonne looking back at him, her dark iris hidden behind her long lashes. She dove back in, pressing her chest into his and Rick responded eagerly, momentarily forgetting where they were. She grasped at his biceps, flattening her palms over the muscles and Rick shifted, lifting her enough to pull her against him. His hands dragged downward, over her smooth, dark skin, toying with the space between the fabric of her dress and her waist. Michonne let out a breathy little gasp that nearly undid Rick completely. He pulled back, unable to keep the smile off his face. She grinned right back, dusting her lips across his cheeks. She went back in for his lips and Rick leaned back, bumping the tablet in front of them. A flash went off, just visible behind his lidded eyes, but it was the unexpected voice that startled them both.

“Hey,” an accent thicker than even Rick’s sent a shock through the canoodling couple, and they jumped apart guiltily. A security guard with an ebony mullet was staring confusedly at them. “You aren’t supposed to be back here.”

“Sorry,” Michonne was quicker than Rick. “We just wanted—“

“A place to kiss, I know. You’re not the first. One time, I caught this pretty little number and her redheaded beau. They were doing more than kissing.” Rick and Michonne stared back at him, half embarrassed, have bemused. “I mean copulating.” The security guard clarified .

“We’ll be heading out now,” Rick did his best to stand up, his pants uncomfortably tight. He guided Michonne behind him, allowing her to straighten out her clothing.

“Don’t forget your pictures,” the security guard flourished two glossy pages as they climbed out, Michonne still clinging to Rick’s hand.

“Thank you,” embarrassed and eager to be alone again with the woman on his arm, Rick seized the pictures and hurried towards the exit.

“Oh my gosh,” Michonne began to laugh as they got out of earshot of the security guard. “I hope he doesn’t tell anyone that he caught us.”

“You know he will,” Rick shook his head. “We’re going to be another couple he caught copulating.” Rick purposefully dialed up his accent. He could honestly not have cared less what the security guard thought.

“Well, not quite copulating,” Michonne’s tone changed. Rick turned back to look at her, pausing near the exit.

“Not quite,” he agreed. He wanted her, badly, and it was clear she felt the same. Still, there was a time and place for everything. He kissed her again, a simple press of the lips, chaste compared to their photo booth make out. “I think we’ve got a few more prairie paintings to look at first.”

She giggled, wiping at his mouth, “Let’s start with the one with the cow.”

-l-l-l-l-

“I had a great time tonight,” Michonne laced her fingers around Rick’s as he walked her up the path to her front door.

“I did too,” he smiled at her, his lips still stained faintly pink from her lipstick. He paused at her front step.

Michonne stared at him for a moment, debating furiously. Part of her wanted to open that door and drag him inside, throw him down and finish what they’d started in the photo booth. The more conservative part of her knew that he would be worth the wait.

“Michonne,” Rick let go of her hand, fiddling instead with the rose in hair that had come loose. “I was wondering, if you aren’t sick of me…”

“Never,” she couldn’t imagine a situation where that would be true.

“Then maybe you’d like to get dinner with me, tomorrow night?” he looked at her hopefully.

Michonne closed the distance between them, brushing her lips over his. “I’ll see you tomorrow night,” she told him, delighting in his smile.

“Tomorrow,” he repeated, reaching into his back pocket. “You should keep these. It’s your art, after all,” he smiled as he pressed the two printed pages into her hands.

It wasn’t until he had wished her goodnight and disappeared in his truck that she chanced a glance at the pictures, laughing at the sight of them rendered like the iconic characters. The second picture caught her off guard. The camera had caught them mid kiss. They were twisted around each other like a couple who could not get enough, like they had forgotten a camera was even there.

“Tomorrow,” Michonne whispered, stepping inside her house, the pictures pressed to her chest.

#author: lahsportsdiary #author: love.devil.movies.baby #richonne #richonne fanfiction #richonne round robin #rjd writing network #rick grimes #michonne #carl grimes #judith grimes #grimes family 2.0 #teacher's pet

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sick-raven · 4 years

Text

Ghosts of the Past - Chapter 5

Chapter 1 + warnings

AO3

Previous chapter

AN: This is the porn chapter.

Chapter 5

When Miranda dressed up, she wondered whether she is really this easy. Guy drugs you once or twice, calls you a bitch, gives you flowers, and you are ready to sit with him and hope for… what exactly?

What’s your point, Miranda?

Fun. She hoped for a little fun in her stupid dull life. She might be dead in few months, she can at least enjoy herself. And if it’s fun with handsome man, who can blame her? Psychotic? Please, she was worse than him. Using her? Yes, so was she.

No blame to pass. Almost sane and almost moral.

Scratches on her chest have already disappeared, she didn’t go with cleavage anyways. Modest Miranda Bradbury, she had image to uphold. And charm to hide. Leaving it in plain sight could tempt the professor to attack again. She wasn’t risking that.

“Unarmed?” reminded master.

“But ready,” opposed Miranda. Jonathan Crane was nothing without his toxins. She didn’t need a weapon.

Miranda laughed to herself. How do people prepare for dates? They sure don’t count weaponry. They count condoms and money! And here she is, thinking, where should she stab him if he tries to drug her again.

No knives! End of discussion!

Her phone buzzed. Time to go. She felt overdressed when she saw him. He always wears suit, it’s easy for him to fit in.

“Good evening, Miranda.”

“Professor.”

He looked her over but didn’t say anything. “Shall we?”

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Nice place at the town centre, no need to worry.”

She grinned. “Not worried, just curious.”

He held the taxi door open for her. The driver seemed legit. Miranda wasn’t worried, just careful. Almost sane.

But Jonathan Crane didn’t lie. The car stopped in front of nice restaurant she wouldn’t normally go to. Not only was it expensive but also so posh it hurt her eyes after entering.

“Do you come here regularly?” she asked.

“Yes, I did some job for the owner and they treat me with huge discounts.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Not publicly.”

The evening went by fast. They talked about many things – Miranda didn’t realize she has so many hobbies except for killing. Nerd stuff, she would call it. Just nerding and killing, that was Miranda’s jam. Jonathan also surprised her with his interest in old folk tales and poems. He loved to sing. It didn’t fit his serious expression at all.

After food and two glasses of wine she finally asked: “Okay, so what’s your damage?”

He smiled. “You show me yours…”

“Oh, come on, you already know. I kill for money. I am crazy. Next.”

“You never told me how the ghosts started.”

She investigated her wine and played with a glass a little, letting the liquid flow around. “I am way too sober for that. You start.”

Jonathan also drank for that. “To put it simply, my grandma was abusive witch who used fear to control me. I killed her.” Miranda heard anticipation in his voice. She knew the feeling. You let someone see you and you are ready to be judged.

“That’s fucked up. I was only part of suicide pact.”

“I expect you failed.” His interest rose, maybe because he didn’t need to focus on himself anymore.

“Yes, the only one. Hence the ghosts. They blame me for not fulfilling my promise.”

“Interesting.”

“It is, actually. The whole ritual is involved.” She described it and Jonathan listened with open curiosity. “We were supposed to blow this shopping centre that was cover for drug den. And die during it. I just said fuck it and ran. I like my life, no matter how shitty it got.”

“We all need to find our focus,” agreed Jonathan.

“Yours is fear.”

“Which reminds me. Would you like to hear my new theory of how to help you?”

Miranda sighed. “Professor, it’s not worth it.”

“Please, it’s Jonathan. Hear me out.”

She finished her wine and asked for another. Then nodded.

“Thank you. I realize I approached it all wrong.”

“Through your own selfish plans,” she reminded him.

“Yes, that too. However, my plan did involve you awakening and overcoming your fear. Unfortunately, you are way too deep in no emotions land.”

“Poetic.”

“Don’t patronize me,” he smirked. “So, I figured, you need to awake all your emotions. Not just fear. I brought you something.” He put bottle of pills on the table. “These make normal people oversensitive. It overloads your nervous system, makes you twice as sensitive to any perception. I think this might help you get your emotions back partially. It’s my own formula.”

She stared him entertained. He gave back confused look.

“Are you giving me aphrodisiacs?”

Now he blinked surprised. He examined the bottle, frowned and then scoffed amused.

“You are correct, yes.”

Miranda took the bottle and shrugged. “I might test it later. Thank you, Jonathan.”

“Do not thank me. Save it when there are results.”

Miranda shook her head. “No, I don’t know what end you are following, but you wouldn’t have to pay attention to me. Neither try to help me.”

“Let’s say I like challenges and I am intrigued.”

“Are you also ready to lose?”

“I don’t accept failure.” He finished his wine. “Do you know where you can find even better alcohol?”

“Where?”

“My place.”

“I actually do know that,” she smiled mischievously.

“Did you snoop around my bar, Miranda?”

“I might have.”

“Then I have nothing to surprise you with.”

***

Jonathan didn’t lie, the alcohol was really good. Another trivia around mysterious professor. He wasn’t into low-quality stuff. Meanwhile Miranda didn’t mind drinking basically clear alcohol. She was able to appreciate fine tastes though.

Their conversation continued and they successfully avoided talking about their problems. Miranda appreciated that. Her life turned around ghosts. She was happy talking about anything else.

“No, really! From all the cities I like Gotham the most. It wakes up my inner Shelley,” she laughed.

“Percy or Mary?”

“Both, but I would probably be the one hiding the organs of my husband.”

The clock was showing almost midnight when she stood up. “I should head home. This was fun.”

“I agree,” said Jonathan looking her over. “We should do this again.”

Miranda nodded ready to turn to the door. She stopped in her steps and looked him straight in the eyes.

“Do you wanna fuck?” she asked.

If she surprised him, he didn’t let is show. “Excuse me?”

“You are looking at me like that all evening. Do you wanna fuck me? Because I would.”

Jonathan smiled. “No, sorry.”

“That’s fine. I’m just not used to hoovering around this like teenagers. Still had fun. See ya.”

“Goodbye Miranda.”

She went to hall and was reaching for a coat, when Jonathan forcefully grabbed her from behind and pinned her to a wall. She yelped by surprise. She moved, elbowed him to solar. Punch was big enough to force him to let her go.

She turned, grabbed him by the coat and pressed him against a wardrobe.

“You fuck,” she hissed.

Jonathan raised his hand in front of her face. Little pop and hiss were heard. From bracelet on his wrist a small cloud of toxin sprayed right into her face. Miranda closed her mouth and eyes, avoiding the mist.

When she looked back at him, his smile disappeared.

“Nose filters, you cunt,” she grinned. “I fucking knew it.” She grabbed his hand and hit it two times against the wardrobe. The bracelet broke. Then she threw Jonathan on the floor, he tried to get away, but one rib kick made him fall on his back. He moaned painfully. Miranda stepped on his neck.

“I am speechless,” she said. “If you wanted to die, you should have said so you crazy fucking bastard! What were you thinking? That I am some naïve bitch that will just let you do this? What did you want to do to me, huh?”

He held her leg, couldn’t breathe neither speak.

“Look at you. That’s what you wanted?” Miranda was pissed. She couldn’t explain why. Maybe because she really wanted this to be just innocent fun and let herself forget Jonathan is bonkers. “Look at you, you pathetic…”

She went silent. She noticed and all was clear now. “You sick…” she mumbled. “Really!? After I asked!” she pointed at his obvious hard on.

She stepped off and Jonathan was finally able to breathe. He coughed hard, holding his neck. His clear attire destroyed, hair messy, his smug gone. Miranda walked a little circle like a lion in the cage.

“I get it,” she laughed and squatted next to him. He didn’t break eye contact, still holding his neck. “You are intimidated by me.”

He frowned. Didn’t say anything.

“That’s what you do, huh, Jonathan? You go after naïve, stupid ones. Drug ‘em, fuck ‘em, use your authority to silence them. Tell me, how many students have you forced your dick in, hm? You are happy when they can’t fight you back, right? You wanna choke them while you cum inside them. Well you chose a wrong girl to try this on. Because I won’t have that.”

She stood up and fought need to kick him one more time.

“Scared of having one awake, are you.” Miranda turned to leave. This time she wasn’t afraid he will jump her. She taught him that lesson.

She put her coat on.

“Miranda, stop,” she heard him say. She grinned amused by his bravery. He dares to… “Look at me.” She turned. Jonathan ran fingers through his hair making worse mess than before. Only his looks showed evidence of her self-defence, his expression was back again. As if nothing happened.

“Undress.”

“What did you say?” she snapped.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” He sat in his chair, watching her silently.

What the fuck is he thinking! He just did that! Can you believe it, Miranda!? Nobody ever had balls to do something like this to you! He tried to drug you and rape you and now he acts all high and mighty! Kill him. Now! Miranda? Miranda, don’t…

‘Shut up, reason, nobody cares,’ she thought. She threw the coat aside. Dress soon followed despite every sensor in her body telling her not to. Eventually she stood there only the charm on her neck.

“I thought so,” he said and let her guess whether he meant her obedience or scars covering her body. The gunshot wound hasn’t healed properly yet. “Come closer. No, that’s enough.”

Miranda stood two metres away from him. This no contact gave her anticipation. She was still angry but intrigued. Excited even. She will get what she wanted. Fun.

“On your knees,” he demanded, and she followed. She wondered where this will go. How far is he willing to take it? His excitement was still showing even though you wouldn’t read it from his face. She hoped for a night with him, just imagined it differently. Can’t get everything you want, Miranda.

“Look at yourself,” he scoffed awaking her anger again. “Intimidated by you? Don’t make me laugh. You are utterly boring and uninteresting.”

That motherfucking smug bastard…

“Boring even naked. Follows orders like some bitch. I am sure the students are better fucks than you. They are at least after something, so they try. You are just dull idiot who thinks she can throw a punch, so she is scary. No, you are not. You are on par with high school bully. Pathetic.”

Miranda grinded her teeth, face red. She was ready to jump on her feet and finish this once and for all. How dares he? Such humiliation!

“Angry, are we?” he smiled darkly. “There is the door.”

Miranda held her fists tight and didn’t break eye contact.

“Very well,” Jonathan kept smiling, “make me interested.”

Miranda grew uncomfortable. What? How? She tucked her hair behind her ears buying some time. No, being obscene wouldn’t work on him. They took it this far, Miranda won’t ruin the fun by going against the tide. She touched one of her scars instead. It ran along her ribs under her breast. “I have horrible taste in men, you could have noticed. My last boyfriend made me scream all night. The best I’ve ever had. He was also hidden serial killer turned on by stabbing. That I realized later. But he stabbed pretty good,” she smiled while running her fingers along the scar. Slowly moved them over the hip.

“Drunken fight. The lady at the bar took care of me. Licked the blood like a goddess. Not only the blood mind you. I get wet just thinking about her.” She didn’t give him the pleasure of touching any important spots, but she started to feel the need to. Red face stayed, anger left for now.

“And back… my back is horrible to look at. Cult whipping and self-flagellation were often. One guy loved to tear your clothes down and stuck his dick in you while he was torturing you. I told him no but looked forward to every meeting.”

Jonathan didn’t move a muscle. “And that one?”

Right between her breasts. Even now it was obvious stab wound. She caressed it in silence, looking for words. “It is… a sign.” She never thought about it. “That I am alive despite my best efforts not to be.”

“You didn’t do very good job,” he smirked.

“Today I’d beg you different.”

“Interesting,” he commented. “Do you feel proud of being a whore?”

“I feel proud of living as much as my problems allow me. I am sure you understand that, Jonathan.”

“It’s professor to you.”

She fell silent, her body unsure of what it wants. It wanted him, the blood flowed into her private parts making them hot and pulsing with need. But she also wanted to beat him where he sat to a bloody pulp. “Fine, professor,” she said slowly. “What is it then? Am I worthy of your attention?”

Jonathan waited for a minute letting her boil in silence. Judging her, investigating her body thoroughly as if she was some sort of meat on display. Her discomfort rose. Her needs too. ‘Say something,” she thought. ‘Anything! Call me a whore again!’

“I think,” said Jonathan finally and tone of his voice trembled her to the bone, “that if you ask very nicely, I will let you suck my cock.”

Miranda gasped and bit her lip. Showing him her anticipation like that was stupid. She shouldn’t have done that. Now he waited and she couldn’t deliver. Her mind wanted to talk so badly, but the words just wouldn’t come out of her mouth. ‘I have a shame after all,’ she realized amused.

“You want me to beg for goods I can’t even see?”

He kept smiling. The spark in his eyes grew with her defiance. “A bit picky for a concubine.”

“I am worth the money.”

Miranda wasn’t willing to budge, and Jonathan knew that. He didn’t bother with more words. He unzipped his pants and took his penis out. His erection made it stood waiting for action. He didn’t remove any of his clothing. Just a man in a suit with his dick out. Miranda felt her lower body tingle. She wanted this. Shame be damned.

“Please, let me do it,” she said eyes tracing the carpet.

“You aren’t even trying, Miranda.”

Damn his demands. How could she do this with a straight face? She couldn’t even look him in the eyes!

“Please, let me suck your dick.”

“No, I don’t think you want this bad enough.”

Her chest tightened as she rose her head. She had to look so desperate and pathetic and Jonathan loved it the damn bastard. And so did she, as the nervous feeling she didn’t have in years overcame her.

“Please, professor Crane, I want to suck your dick. However long you please. Let me do it.”

Jonathan left her in silence again as if he thought about her plea. As if he calculated whether she really was worth it. She waited for his words like nervous dog that needs to be given a sign to move. He let her shiver on the ground, embarrassed, red and wet.

“Very well,” he said finally acting like he gave up. “Come here. No. Don’t stand up.”

On all four she crawled to him. She stayed on the ground, Jonathan sitting high like some sort of deity. He enjoyed feeling of superiority, his dick twitched in anticipation.

She really wanted to boil him just like he did to her. Let him wait and show him he is not in charge. But he got to her. She couldn’t wait any longer. Miranda was a hungry animal and needed to be satisfied.

She grabbed his penis and steadied it as she licked the shaft from the bottom to the top. Her tongue tasted the saltiness of precum on the head. Jonathan was eyeing her, his breath not so calm anymore. She licked him more, down, up, making his cock wet and slippery. Then finally she took it in one go, all at once. Jonathan gasped and she felt victorious she made him do it. She wanted him to lose it just like she did.

Down and up, whole member in her mouth. Miranda was gasping for air after a while, her throat stiff, but she loved doing this. The taste was so wrong and so right. Saltiness and smell of a man.

Miranda let go for a while to calm her throat, she continued to rub his penis with hands. He was still watching, mouth just slightly open. She smiled happy for getting to him slowly but surely. He will be hers.

Miranda kept licking and sucking, occasional gasp motivated her to go faster and deeper. She wished he grabbed her hair and forced her down, just the thought of the act left her trembling. But he kept his hands on the chair.

“Enough,” Jonathan said after a while. Miranda stopped. “You are pretty good when you have your mouth shut.”

She decided to take it as a compliment. He grabbed her by a chin and made her stand up. Then he led her to sit on his lap. He didn’t go in yet. She rested her hands on his shoulders. “No touching,” he warned her. She grabbed the chair behind him instead putting her breasts close to his face. “That’s better.”

Jonathan slowly ran his hands over her body. He touched the scars first, he was very careful when caressing her collar bone, so he doesn’t awake overprotective charm beast. She shivered when he touched her neck, and she leaned in closer, but his hands slid down to her breast. He playfully pinched her nipples making her moan a bit.

Then his fingers ran lower and found a way to her crotch. Miranda bit her lip again as he slipped in her. “Look at me,” he demanded as he moved his fingers in and out at her clitoris and back in again. She tried, but she couldn’t take the feeling and look of his cold blue eyes. Her sight always wandered somewhere else with each pulse of pleasure.

“At me,” he repeated and turned her head to face him. The sensation was too much. The feeling of him in her made her crazy and his pleased face…

“Fuck me,” she moaned.

“No.”

“Please, just, ah… Professor, please, I beg you.”

“I don’t think I will yet,” he said with a grin. She started to tremble even more, she was so close to finish when he took the hand away.

“No,” she begged. He left her tense, on a brink of orgasm, her pussy pulsing and dripping, wishing to be full of his cock.

He held the wet hand in front of her. No words to be said. She started licking his finger, one after the other tasting herself.

“Good girl, Miranda,” he said softly and her heart jumped on the praise. She sucked his thumb and felt him comforting himself.

She moaned loudly finger still in her mouth as he thrusted in her. She felt him filling her. She supported herself on the chair and began to move on him. In one rhythm, in, out, she wished to scream loudly but he held her mouth shut. It felt wonderful, it was all she needed. So good. So full. So forceful.

He grabbed her hip with the other hand and forced her down even deeper. She moaned again. The hand on her face made her helpless. She wanted to shout be he had control of everything. Fucking her hard. God. Any second now. Any…

Muffled scream of pleasure made him go faster. Her insides started so spasm and she felt everything. Every nerve in her body made her flinch and only Jonathan held her in place. He groaned loudly as he came inside her at the same time.

Still trembling he finally freed her mouth. She couldn’t talk, the adrenaline was running through her, she still felt Jonathan’s dick inside her squirming. She enjoyed the moment with a pleased smile, lightheaded and tired.

Small movement stopped it.

“Hands where I can feel them, Jonathan,” she warned him.

He smirked and grabbed her breasts again.

“Attentive, aren’t you?”

“Just let me have this, you freak.”

He caressed her cheek and then brought her down for a kiss. She tightened in surprise. Strange feeling filled her as they kissed for a moment. Then he let go.

“Get off me.”

“I think your suit is ruined.”

“I will get that cleaned.”

She looked him in the eyes one last time. She let go of the chair and then she slapped him hard.

“That’s for trying to drug me again.” Then she finally stood up, he slid out of her. Her thighs were wet. This was great evening.

He was proper faster than her. He watched her getting dressed without comments. She wanted to say million things, but she better bit her tongue. Not that it would ruin a moment. Just too many words were said today.

“I apologize,” said Jonathan.

“Don’t apologize when you don’t mean it.”

“You are right. I don’t. I still want to experiment on you.”

“You are freak, Jonathan. I like that. See you around.”

“Don’t forget to take your medicine,” he laughed sincerely.

“Suck it,” she replied and left.

She had dreams of Scarecrow fucking her numb whole night.

Next chapter

#batman #fanfiction #jonathan crane #writing #writeblr #sick raven writing #ghosts of the past

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nickireadstfc · 7 years

Text

The Foxhole Court, Chapter 6 – Now That We’re All Here, What The Fuck Is Going On

In which we give out awards to characters we barely know, I have questions about demisexuality, Neil turns up the Gay Angst™ and the gang finally gets together although some of them could have fucking stayed home.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Foxhole Court.

Neil left reality behind when he stepped into Dan’s room. Spending a month with Andrew’s cracked lot and a volatile Wymack had almost irreparably damaged his image of the Foxes. Now he was sipping a glass of sweet iced tea and eating cookies Renee had brought with her from home.

I’m…….. so…………. What did we do to deserve those angels……………….

[Dan] seemed friendly enough now that Andrew was out of sight, but Neil had already noted her spine. She was made of sterner stuff, his mother might have said. Neil guessed she had to be to captain a ragtag team like this.

Don’t think I forgot the vow I made a few chapters ago:

Well deserved, we honour you and your general badassery with this award today. May your spirit inspire us, guide us, and get our asses back in line when we try being Extra™.

Am I prematurely praising this character? Probably.

Do I care? Absolutely fucking not.

Her roommate Renee was a mystery. (…) Nicky had called her the sweetheart of the team. Neil understood why as he listened to her talk. He had no idea how she qualified for the Foxes’ halfway-house team.

Murderous snowflake, I’m calling it. She probably has the darkest backstory of ‘em all. I’m so beyond intrigued by this character, she has instantly risen to the ranks of my favourites as well.

But all fun girly hangout times must end, and so they drive to the Fox Tower to finally get all the gang together.

Speaking of gangs! Neil’s favourite people, Andrew and the Murder Monster Squad, are back!

“It’s not like we’re going to kill him,” [Nicky said.]

“Kevin already tried,” Matt pointed out.

“Nah, that was just a love tap.”

Nicky knows about the choking kink, you guys.

In an attempt to get the Kandreil ship sailing again make them all settle their differences, Andrew invites Neil to join them on a fun party trip in Columbia next weekend. There is absolutely no way this can go wrong, I’m sure of it.

“Maybe [Allison and Seth] will get in a crash and won’t make it,” Nicky said hopefully.

“Really, Nicky,” Renee said. “That’s a little inappropriate, don’t you think?”

She said it gently, with a hint of a smile on her face, but Neil still felt the rebuke. It was subtler but somehow deadlier than the dirty looks Matt and Dan were sending Nicky, maybe because she was so sweetly disappointed in Nicky’s attitude. Nicky dropped his gaze from hers and gave an uncomfortable shrug.

Honestly, who is this Renee and why does she have such magical powers.

The way I see it, there are two ways this could go: 1) She actually has no deadly backstory (a sad, tragic one at best) and she owns the team’s hearts through sheer niceness, or 2) she is the murderous snowflake I appointed her earlier and has killed like a dozen men in her life, could slit your throat while simultaneously baking sweet cookies for her team, and is generally deadlier than all of them combined.

I’m hoping for the latter.

New character arrivals! The last ones for a longer time, I suppose, so let’s cherish them.

Seth Gordon was the first into the room and he brought an attitude problem with him. He didn’t look happy to see any of them after only a month apart and he barely grunted at the staff in greeting. He took a second to scowl fiercely at Neil, but that was it.

Chill the fuck out, my dude. I’m taking it back, I don’t cherish him. He may be the only character I don’t instantly like, or at least find somewhat interesting.

Seriously, if you only come here to instantly non-verbally shit on everyone I’ve taken into my heart so far, you can fuck off right again.

Allison Reynolds was only a few seconds behind him. (…) Everyone else was in jeans and rumpled from moving in. Allison looked ready for a photo shoot with perfect platinum curls, spiked heels, and a skintight dress.

Okay but. Is it intentional that she has the same name as the basket case from The Breakfast Club???? Because that just makes her overdressed outfit even more hilarious.

Also, glad to see the Extra™ represented on the female side as well.

[Neil’s] skin stung with the memory of his mother’ heavy blows. Life on the run meant no time for friends or relationships, but that didn’t stop Neil from checking out girls as he grew older. His mother’s watchful eye noticed his lingering looks and increasing distraction. Afraid he’d spill their secrets over a childish crush, she beat him like she could kill his hormones with her bare hands. A few years of this violence and Neil finally got the hint: girls were too dangerous to consort with.

Are you telling me that his mom physically abused him for being attracted to girls. That is beyond shitty. That is so, so fucked up. Mom Josten is losing so many previously gained sympathy points right now.

Real talk time, though: How does that tie in with his demisexuality? Because evidently, he did have sexual attraction to complete strangers when he was younger. Is this suggesting that his mother’s abuse made him demisexual? Because that is problematic on so many levels, most of all because it invalidates demi people as it is suggesting you can be beaten into a sexual orientation.

The logical assumption – for me right now at this point of reading – would be that he is actually bi/pan, however his childhood abuse represses that and makes him uncomfortable in his sexual attraction to women as a Pavlovian response, similar to gay kids beaten by their homophobic parents.

Or is there just something else entirely that I’m not getting? There must be, as Nora Sakavic herself said that Neil is demisexual (or so I’ve been told).

Or am I just reading too much into this altogether?

This is v v interesting. If anyone has anything to add to this, do shoot me an ask, but please – please! – keep it spoiler-free.

(If you’re in doubt over whether something counts as a spoiler or not: Don’t send it. I’m serious.)

Back to the matter at hand: Now that all the Foxes have huddled into the Foxy Hol(e)y Court, it’s time for some real talk from Wymack.

“Questions, comments, concerns? Anyone?”

Seth pointed at Neil and said angrily, “I’m fucking concerned–“

Neil guessed Wymack had heard this argument before, because he spoke over Seth like he didn’t hear him. “All right, then. Moving on…”

Ohhh, the shade. Get fucked, Seth.

#dicksoutforwymack

“The death threats [they received last season] were creative, though,” Nicky said. “Maybe this time they’ll follow through and actually kill one of us. Let’s vote. I nominate Seth.”

Me too, buddy.

“Fuck you, faggot,” Seth said.

“I don’t like that word,” Andrew said. “Don’t use it.”

My MAN. <333

“I would say ‘fuck you, freak’, but then you wouldn’t know which one of you I was talking to.”

“Don’t talk to us at all,” Aaron said. “You never have anything useful to say.”

Get fuckin rekt, pissbaby.

You come into my house, you insult my newly adopted characters, you can fuck the fuck off.

Sadly, Wymack breaks up what had been shaping up to be the diss battle of the decade by dropping the Edgar Allan bombshell on them. The entire team freaks out (obvs), but no one more than Andrew – however, it’s weirdly not the Ravens’ transfer he’s mad about, it’s simply the fact that Kevin didn’t tell him.

“When were you going to tell me?”

“I told him not to,” Wymack said.

“You picked Coach over me?” Andrew asked, and laughed. “Ohhhh my. Favoritism, deception, betrayal, how familiar. After everything I’ve done for you.”

What, what have you done for him, I need to know.

“It’ll be fine,” Andrew said. “I promised, didn’t I? Don’t you believe me?”

It took a while, but at last Kevin visibly relaxed. The dead edge melted out of his eyes as he absorbed every ounce of strength Andrew could give him. The unwavering trust Kevin had in Andrew was amazing. How Kevin thought one psychotic midget could protect him against a family as twisted as the Moriyamas, Neil didn’t know.

Honestly, I can’t stress enough how interesting I find their dynamic. They switched from mortal enemies to BFFs within a season, and now they switch from viciously aggressive to almost tender within seconds. I need to know all their backstory and I need to know it now.

(Also, where’s the fanfiction at.)

“Why does Kevin trust Andrew?”

Renee smiled. “Because he knows he can.”

“With so much at stake,” Neil pressed, as if she didn’t understand what was going on as well as he did. Maybe she didn’t. (…) She wasn’t like them. She was normal, or as normal as the Foxes could hope to be.

No, she fucking isn’t, don’t ask me how I know this I just know okay I know my murderous snowflake.

After this, Neil goes back to his roots in reminding us that he is, in fact, the Overlord of Angst™ in this book.

I joke about this, but those passages are always really well-written and super immersive, that is some bomb ass writing right there. Case in point:

Kevin’s fear cut him wide open because Neil knew that feeling. Every day Neil woke up and relearned how to breathe. He gave himself two minutes every morning to calculate his chances of getting caught, weigh the benefits of staying wherever he was, and talk himself through his fear.

Did Kevin do the same? The dead look Kevin turned on Andrew today was the same one Neil saw in his reflection.

Also ayy, back at it again with the Kevin/Neil parallels.

Following that is a lengthy description of Neil’s anxiety that I cannot quote simply because it’s too long. The key elements are this: Kevin, in all his fucked-up misery, still has Andrew to lean onto, while Neil is absolutely alone; Neil is deeply jealous of Kevin’s life, specifically of Kevin and Andrew’s trusting relationship; yet even though he hates him Neil still desperately wants to stick around to see Kevin succeed, and I fucking cry in a corner because that is too much for my poor shipping heart.

Give a girl a break.

Finally [Seth] threw his hands up in disgust und turned on Neil. “And to make it all worse, I get stuck with a fucking amateur as a sub!”

Did I want a break? There it is. Assbrain McFuckface has graced us with his presence once again.

Seth glared at Neil. (…) “We were supposed to make it this year. I trusted [Kevin] to pick our sub because he said he could get us past the championship death match. But this is repulsive.”

Your face is repulsive, Jesus Christ. Take a fucking chill pill, Gordon. You know this guy ten minutes and you’ve never even seen him play at all. Maybe try thinking outside of your tiny monkey brain and consider judging his game before you shit all over him.

(If anyone of you really likes Seth: I’m really sorry. But also: Why tf would you.)

Matt to the rescue!

“At least give Neil a chance,” Matt said.

“Day’s fucking with us,” Seth said. “It isn’t right.”

“This attitude isn’t right,” Matt said, pointing at him.

You go, tall Billie Joe Armstrong. You’re good people.

The chapter’s almost done, save for one peculiar thing that happens towards the very end: Nicky loses Andrew – bad enough – and for some reason, turns to Renee to find him.

Neil knew someone picked up by the way Renee smiles, but he didn’t know how Renee could smile so warmly when she was speaking to Andrew.

“Did I wake you?” she asked in lieu of hello. “I was hoping to talk to you tonight, but Nicky says you’ve wandered off. Oh? All right, then. I’ll try again tomorrow. Lunch, perhaps? Okay. Good night.”

They go on LUNCH DATES??? I’m so fucking invested in this Brotp. Goalie bffs 4 lyfe.

But seriously, who is Renee and why is she so magical.

Find out next time, I guess.

#tfc #the foxhole court #the raven king #the kings men #nora sakavic #nicki reads tfc #dicksoutforwymack

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