#it's so not funny this fic has been driving me insane for almost half a year. can't stop re-reading it and will not stop actually | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writingonsaturn · 3 years

Text

Better Unsaid

a/n okay this has been all over the place!! it was originally going to be a blurb and darker and closer to smutty (so keep your eyes out for that??? lol), but then I made it softer and the concept got away from me and it got soooo much longer than expected lmao and i still dont love where it ended so maybe part 2?? i have the idea i just dont know lol

summary: Reader is a princess and Anakin has been her guard during the most public season for the past two years (not the most logical thing but just go with it lol, it gets explained better in the fic) and after a near death experience the two are conveniently forced into a....

ONE BED TROPE ONE BED TROPE *cough cough* ONE BED TROPE WITH ONE PERSON HAVING TO WAKE UP THE OTHER BC THEYRE HAVING A NIGHTMARE,, :)))))))

His smugness is the only thing about him I can consider ‘ugly’. And because I am so desperate to not have feeling for Anakin, the Jedi who has been assigned to protect me through coronation season (which lasts for most of winter), for the last two coronation seasons, I hold onto my distaste for that side of him. Which is why I suppress my laugh as he waits for my reaction with that confident smile.

“Come on, that was funny.”

Rolling my eyes, I let myself sit on my bed. I can’t tell if he’s actually funny or if my evening has been so boring that his sense of humor has started to become appealing to me due to comparison. In short, the suitor I was forced to spend an entire evening with lacked personality so much I’m starting to find Anakin funny.

“You’re much more entertaining than this evening’s suitor.”

Anakin’s expression shifts slightly, his assured grin dropping slightly. “Another miss?”

“You have no idea.” I relax slightly, taking a moment to be glad that I completed my father’s request and now I can just enjoy the time I have with Anakin. “I know my father’s desperate to make sure my marriage is useful for our people and that he worries about this selection process because he always thought my mother would be here to help, but sometimes I wish he wouldn’t rush it so much. It feels like all he wants me for is to marry me off in exchange of finance or weaponry or something diplomatic.”

“You’re more than that.” His response is so soft I think I might have missed it if I needed it less. I curse myself for feeling so validated by him. His words shouldn’t mean anything to me. After all, he could easily just be saying that because agreeing with my father will just make me more unpleasant to be around.

I smile politely while avoiding his eyes. I keep my hands on either side of me, fighting the urge to fidget. “Thank you, Anakin.” My words sound weak in my own ears, so I’m sure he notices my shift in mood. “I’m tired today, I think I’m going to go to bed early.” Normally, I’d be able to shrug off these kinds of things, but the beginning of Coronation Season makes me irritable. The anniversary of my mother’s death hits me harder each year.

“Y/n.” My name comes out so velvety I can’t find it in myself to interrupt him. “You are more than someone meant to be used as some kind of royal currency, and I mean that as more than just a...friend.”

I let his last word linger. We’ve tried so many titles that never seem to fit right. He’s the chosen one, one of the most powerful Jedi to exist, and the Jedi assigned to protect me each Coronation Season because that’s when my mother was assassinated. He’s my guard, but we’ve spent too many nights laughing together and talking about everything and anything. And I guess now he’s my friend, even though sometimes when he looks at me in a certain way or sits too close to me or reaches for my hand to guide me somewhere I can’t breathe right.

“Anakin, you know I love when you’re here, even though sometimes you drive me insane. And I appreciate your kindness, but your words can’t change the truth. That’s how my father sees me and he’s not exactly wrong. I’m not a son, I haven’t been raised to lead an army or lead much, and--”

“I’ve seen you in meeting after meeting, convention after convention. I’ve witnessed the way you handle real problems and I know how you care about your people. You’d make a great leader, you don’t need a husband to be valuable.”

My chest swells, feelings I never let myself think about mixing with thoughts of Anakin that I’ve spent so long trying to avoid. “That settles it, you’re my favorite person.”

He grins, the look warm enough to melt the odd lump in my throat. I fight down a smile as he steps forward. “And I wasn’t before?”

“I take it back--your head’s big enough without the additional praise.”

Rolling my eyes, I lean back slightly in order to recreate the distance he so easily destroyed. “And I thought you had finally warmed up to me, princess.”

The use of my title makes me skeptical. The last time Anakin used it was when he was trying to ease me so that I’d walk around the palace garden so he had an excuse to do the same. It was beyond late and I was half asleep, but he had os much energy he was desperate and just needed to do one more thing. I felt bad that his schedule revolved so heavily around mine (and when he softens his eyes and says please, I’m left incapable of saying the word ‘no’) so I agreed.

“What do you want?”

Anakin dramatically clutches a hand over his heart. He throws his head back slightly as if he’s just taken a fatal blow. “When did you turn so cynical? I’ve been back for three days and I’m starting to believe you’re a different person now.”

Yeah...he’s definitely getting ready to ask for something that’s more trouble than it’s worth. Then again, everything with him seems to be worth it in some capacity. Even if it’s just that one smile he gets when he’s truly content and doesn’t think anyone’s looking.

“Mhm,” I mumble, still fighting a grin, “so you’re not going to ask me anything?”

His lips part slightly as he exhales. I watch the way his eyes narrow at my victorious expression. “I don’t have anything to ask of you, but I do have a small request. A request so small you won’t have to do anything but say yes.”

Suspicious. Too easy. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You just said I was your favorite person. Remember that.”

I’m too tired for his coyness. I’d rather him make his ridiculous request now so that I can be in bed within the hour. Though I can’t pretend I don’t normally feel better after letting him drag me along on whatever ‘adventure’ he just needed to complete while also not letting me out of his sight. I used to tell him that I wouldn’t tell anyone if I wasn’t under supervision for an hour or two a day, but he dismissed the idea immediately. That’s been the cornerstone of everything.

“What is it?”

He sighs once, tilting his head slightly. The way his eyes soften tells me he’s already won at least half the battle. “They still haven’t caught the attempted--” Anakin pauses, something behind his eyes darkening. I know what he’s remembering. Last night, an assassin had gotten closer than they ever had. I had almost been shot in the garden, Anakin had barely pushed me to the ground in time. A fact he’s been beating himself up for since, especially considering that no one has been able to find my attempted killer yet. “They were so close to you. They were within palace limits and they disappeared like they never existed. Who’s to say they don’t work here and are waiting for the next moment you’re exposed? Who’s to say they aren’t here tonight, waiting for me to retire for the night?”

I didn’t realize how my near death experience had been so personal to him. He, like everyone else, was beyond frantic after it happened. But my father put an end to verbal worry before it could truly begin. He said the best thing we could do was act like everything was fine as the assailant was searched for. Anakin hadn’t been particularly cheery after my father instructed the guards to focus their search on known enemies instead of prioritizing venting the staff closest to me. I comforted him as best as I could, but he didn’t feel like speaking about it and I had to worry about the suitor meeting my father wouldn’t let me cancel.

“Anakin, you’re right next door to me.” I have to fight the urge to reach for him. “I was fine because of you, and I will be fine because of you.”

He sighs once, his expression not easing. “And if the person is silent? The attacker could easily work in the palace, but no one wanted to direct the search inwards.” His words are more strained than I’ve ever heard them be. “I think it’d be smart for me to stay in here. I know you’ve refused having a guard stay in your room or outside your door, but...” Anakin sighs. “Your safety would be more assured.”

Him staying in my room? The only line I’ve ever been allowed to draw, and I’m actually considering letting that go. If he seemed even slightly less sad, I wouldn’t even consider it. It’s not a good idea. I’m already too attached to him. “Anakin--”

“I’d feel more assured.”

Damn him. Stupid, extremely sweet Anakin who makes saying no to him impossible. I stretch my arm forward, letting my hand squeezes his forearm gently. “There’s no reason to not feel assured.” He doesn’t ease, the cloudiness behind his eyes remains stubborn. “You’re still worried.” No reaction, the haze that’s taken him isn’t letting go. “Fine--but tell no one or my father is going to take to posting guards at my door every night.”

...I guess there are worse ways to spend a night. Which is kind of a problem since I’m trying to...enjoy Anakin less. Ugh, I even sound dumb in my head. “I promise, princess.”

Ugh, he’s adorable. “You’re intolerable.” I stand from he foot of my bed and pull back the covers on my bed. He doesn’t reply, something dark still playing for him. I watch him move to face the door. Wait--is he doing what I think he’s doing? “No, you’re not going to stand there all night. You need sleep.” He has the audacity to give me an annoyed look. “I already didn’t want to do this so now you have to listen to my conditions.”

He raises an eyebrow, his lips pressing together oddly. He’s trying to gauge something from my expression, perhaps he’s looking for buttons to press to get his way. I guess I look as stubborn as I feel because instead of arguing he just sits on the floor. What? I watch him cautiously, trying to figure out if this is some weird argument trick.

“What are you doing?”

“What you asked.”

And just like that I’ve put myself in a position that I will no doubt regret terribly the second common sense returns to me. There’s no way to deny that Anakin and I are closer than we probably should be. We’ve felt like friends first since the day we first met. I can’t think of any reason to not offer to let him sleep in my bed except those stupid budding feelings I refuse to label.

It’s not like I actually like him. I can’t--I’m going to be married to some nobleman and he’s prohibited from ever forming attachments. I’m not even sure if we’re allowed to be friends. Having actual feelings for him would be so, so pointless. It would just lead to heartache and the ruining of the one genuine relationship I have. I’m just a tiny bit confused right now because he’s objectively really attractive and he’s always there for me. Always there to make a joke after a particularly rough meeting. Always there to offer me a supportive smile. Always there to humble me when I teeter on acting like my father.

Anyone’s heart would flutter at that, so it doesn’t mean anything. And if it does, I need to squash any budding feelings now before I mess things up. Which is why I should keep him at arm’s length until I get it together. But is that fair to him? And what if doing that is making things worse? What if it’s just reinforcing the idea of having feelings?

This is ridiculous. I’m going to get over this if it kills me. It’s just a bed and it’s only sleeping. I’m meant to be able to lead an entire union and I can’t sleep next to someone and act normal?” “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

The second the words leave my mouth I regret it all. What’s wrong with me? Did I seriously think I’d be okay?

I hear his soft exhale, “I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse places than on your marble floor.”

His voice sounds so weighted I can’t help but feel bad for not noticing that he’s still bothered. Whether he’s upset about his near miss or the fact that my father didn’t take his advice, I don’t know. But something’s wrong. The easy thing to do would be to just let him sleep it off. The smart thing to do would be to leave him alone until tomorrow.

I think of all the times that I’ve been upset and Anakin had refused to let me go to sleep angry or sad or overwhelmed. “I know, but it’s really not a big deal. It’s not like we don’t know each other. I mean, last Coronation Season you buttoned me into more gowns than my handmaid. And I owe you for saving me from one of the worst suitors I’ve ever had.”

“I’m starting to think we need to develop some kind of signal.”

The tiny bit of lightness that’s returned to his voice makes all of my internal struggle feel worth it. “You always seem to know.”

“That’s because when you’re reaching your limit, that one line appears between your eyebrows.”

I didn’t realize I had such a tell. I try to remember the way that the suitor drawled on and on about how amazing he was and how he couldn’t wait for the day he had a bride to bear his children and plan (tedious) social events. My hand moves to my forehead, trying to feel the crease Anakin mentioned. Can everyone tell when I’m growing tired? Am I that transparent?

Anakin’s slight laugh steals my attention. He’s facing me again, his elbow holding his head up on the foot of my bed. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t--I don’t think i get a crease between my eyebrows when I’m irritated.”

I hear him stand. I don’t realize he’s approaching me until he’s so close I could touch him without even needing. to stretch. “No, when you’re irritated you raise your eyebrows slightly, because that’s when you’re at your most sarcastic.”

“Really?”

The corner of his mouth tugs upwards. “Just like that.” I force myself to keep my expression blank. “When you’re reaching your limit, your eyebrows crease here.” His finger taps the space between my brows so gently I almost don’t realize what he’s doing. “And when you’re trying not to laugh--which is often, because you refuse to admit that I’m funny--you press your lips together in a way that forms a dimple here.” The knuckle of his pointer finger brushes against the bottom of my cheek.

I bite my tongue to fight the warmth spreading across my face. “I didn’t realize i was so transparent.”

“I can’t always tell what you’re thinking.”

“I’ll take it.” Maybe if I was less tired, I’d argue a little more. “You know you’re not that difficult to read either.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I can tell when you’re just being stubborn for the sake of it. I can see it in your eyes and you’re doing it right now.”

His expression harshens slightly before softening. “Y/n--”

“I’m not wrong.”

He sighs once, stepping back. I watch him pace around my bed before taking a seat on the edge of my other side of the bed. “Are you happy now?”

“Happy that I won? Absolutely.”

Anakin halfheartedly glares at me. “Careful, add a crown and a robe that trails down a throne and I’d feel like I was speaking to your father.”

“Careful, another side comment like that and I’ll ‘accidentally’ kick you off the bed in the middle of the night.”

“Not if I kick you off the bed first.”

I trace a thoughtless pattern on the fabric of my bedsheets. “What are you? Twelve?”

“I’m older than you.”

“Barely.” I continue the thoughtless pattern tracing as I fight the sleep from my eyes. “Your comebacks are usually more creative than that.”

He exhales, relaxing slightly as he rests his back against a pillow. “I’m tired, like you claimed to be.” His eyes flutter slightly, a bit of his exhaustion showing. “Go to sleep.”

I should. I’m too old to think I can put off a tomorrow I don’t want by just staying up. This is stupid. I’m too old to think I can put off the anniversary of my mother’s death by going to bed. She had been taken from us on castle grounds, killed by a revolutionist who viewed my mother as a class traitor. I still remember the way she slumped to the ground, her blood staining the snow beneath her. I remember the way the guards were so busy chasing her killer no one thought to keep me away from the body.

“Y/n?”

I scratch the back of my arm in hopes of banishing my thoughts. “Yes?”

“You’re being quiet.”

“You said to go to sleep, that tends to be a quiet thing.”

I can feel his eyes on me. “Since when do you listen to me?” Not trusting myself to actually reply, I only offer him a hum of acknowledgement. “I know you’re not half asleep.”

Folding my hands on my lap, I avoid his gaze. “It’s tomorrow.”

I don’t know why I trust him to understand my vague response, but I do. His silence stretches over us like a thin blanket on a cold night. Maybe he doesn’t understand what I’m implying. I can always correct him tomorrow, when my eyelids are no longer as heavy as my heart. The more seconds that pass in total silence, the more I think that maybe he’s fallen asleep.

I wouldn’t be surprised, Anakin has seemed tired recently, like some additional weight he won’t share with anyone has been thrust onto his shoulders. A small part of me rolls in guilt. I need to be a better friend, just because I’m suddenly a little too aware of him doesn’t mean I can shrug him off and ignore him.

My hand almost flinches away from the feeling of something surprisingly warm touching my pinky. When I realize that it’s just Anakin and that the contact was probably accidental, I force myself to ease. It’s not like we’ve never touched before, I don’t understand why I’m making it weird. Sitting in my bed in the dark doesn’t change anything. His hand turns slightly, pressing into mine a little more assuredly. Biting my tongue, I turn my hand slightly, exposing my palm. And just like that, our fingers intertwine.

“She would have been proud of you.” His voice comes out so low I barely register the words.

The words shouldn’t mean much to me--he never knew my mother and has no way to know what she wanted me to be.--and yet I find comfort in them. I smile, turning my head towards him. “You didn’t even know her.”

He rolls his eyes slightly, relaxing further before squeezing my hand once. “Who wouldn’t be proud of you? You’re kind and smart and decent to be around when you’re not telling me what to do.”

My heart swells in my chest so much I’m surprised it doesn’t burst. Could he be cuter? “Yeah...now I’m sure you’re my favorite person.”

“Now you’re sure?”

The smugness in his voice has me rolling my eyes. “Don’t make me regret saying that.”

“Maybe in the morning,” he says easily, “now go to sleep. There’s nothing worse than escorting you from meeting to meeting while you’re tired.”

“I’m not that bad.” Even in this darkness, I can make out the way he raises an eyebrow. “Shut up--I’m going to sleep, but not because of you.”

He lets out a slight huff. “You’re impossible.”

The desire to respond to his comment is not enough for me to win the fight against the weight of my eyelids. The moment my eyes shut, I feel powerless to anything that isn’t sleep. I let myself fall into a weightless sleep, my only tether being the Anakin’s fingers around mine.

A distant noise yanks me from my sleep. I’m too drowsy to do anything but register the sound. I hear another similar...whine? cry? I can’t tell and I’m too asleep to figure it out. I almost fall asleep again, but a third distressed sound keeps me from it. I wipe my eyes lazily with the back of my hand as I try to sit up.

Squinting, I make out a figure on my bed. It takes me a moment to remember Anakin and how I fell asleep. Our hands are still together and no light is peering through my window so it can’t be that long since I fell asleep. Another disgruntled sound carries itself throughout the room. I shift slightly, leaning over Anakin cautiously.

Golden brown curls are beginning to stick to his forehead and his eyebrows are drawn together sharply. He’s having a nightmare. I shift even further forward before cautiously placing a hand on his shoulder before squeezing him gently.

“Anakin,” I whisper, “it’s not--it’s not real.” His eyebrows draw together even more harshly. I shake him a little more stubbornly. “Anakin, wake up--you’re having a ni--”

My forearm is grabbed so suddenly I barely register it before I feel my back shoved into my mattress. I blink twice. His dark eyes are frantic and the look on his face is far from the gentle, easygoing expression I’m used to. He’s breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling from above me. I swallow a slight panic and something I don’t understand as I try to keep my eyes on his face and my thoughts away from how close he is. Anakin pries his fingers from my forearm one by one until only his palm is touching me.

“Y/n, I--”

“It’s okay.” Honestly, I’m more worried about his uneven breathing than the way he grabbed me. I can’t imagine everything he’s been through or how justified his nightmares are. Anakin moves his hand away from me. I don’t sit up until he’s off of me and sitting with his back against my headboard. “It’s okay--I just--you were having a nightmare and I thought I should wake you.” He doesn’t react. I turn my body further, keeping my back straight. Anakin doesn’t move, and the longer he stays still, the more I feel like I should say something else. “Do you want talk about it? Or do--do you want to talk about something else? Or go to sleep? Or get some water? Or--” The far off look behind his eyes silences me. I scoot forward slightly. “You’re okay, Anakin, I promise.”

His head turns at that, his eyes searching mine for something I don’t understand. “I thought...” He cuts himself off by swallowing once.

I shift a little more, trying to find anything normal in his expression. “Thought what?”

Anakin’s hand is on my arm so quickly I don’t even register his movement. I let his fingers press into my skin. He’s holding onto me like I’m a figment of a dream and he’s beginning to wake up. “I thought I’d failed.” He exhales, the sound heavy. “Failed you and that you’d--I thought I had lost you.”

A lump rises in my throat, thick and unmoving. Cautiously, I place my hand over the one still gripping my shoulder like a lifeline. “You didn’t. Nothing happened, it was just a dream.”

His gaze falls to the ground before he repeats the last of my words. “Just a dream.” There’s a hollowness to his voice I don’t understand.

I exhale, carefully running my thumb over his knuckles. “Yes.” He doesn’t say anything but his expression hardens again. I let us sit there like that for a long minute. “I promise.”

“You can’t promise things like that.”

I sigh, unsure of where to go from here. “Bad dreams are only bad dreams.” He doesn’t reply. “I think you should try to get some more sleep.”

Anakin is unresponsive. I shift back, but before I can transition from almost being on top of him to just sitting next to him, he pulls on my arm to keep in place. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

“You almost died today, y/n. I was right there and if I had been a second later--”

“But you weren’t.” He doesn’t ease. “You were there and I was fine. Don’t torment yourself over what could have been. You’ll drive yourself crazy.”

“If anything ever happened to y--”

“It’s not going to,” I whisper, ignoring the way his hold on my arm tightens even further, “Especially this time a year when I have a pretty good gau--”

He tilts his head slightly, eyebrows drawing together and a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Pretty good? Really?”

“Someone needs to watch your ego, chosen one.” This time when he tries for a smile, the look has some strength behind it. Relief pools in my stomach. “Now get some sleep, tomorrow’s a busy day and when you’re sleepy you’re beyond irritable.”

Anakin lets me pull away enough to lay down, but he doesn’t follow. Not for a long second. When he does, his movements are impossibly rigid. I watch him out of the corner of my eye as carefully as I can manage.

“Y/n?”

I regret turning my head immediately. I didn’t realize how close he was. It would take no effort from me to make our lips meet. Wait--why am I thinking of that? I’m not allowed to think of stuff like that...especially not about him.

“Yes?”

He lets out a breath before moving his hand. I don’t understand his hesitation until I feel his hand cupping my cheek gently. “What if next time I’m not enough? What if next time I lose you because I’m not strong enough?”

I never thought my death would be such a personal thing to him. Sure, I knew that we had some kind of bond, some kind of friendship, and that my death would bring sadness. But I never imagined I’d matter enough to him that thoughts of my death would be frightening enough to slip into his subconscious and become a thing of nightmares.

“You are enough. Nothing is going to happen to me and if it does it’s not going to be because of you.” Anakin’s lips press together in a way that implies serious uncertainty. His thumb brushes across my cheek so unexpectedly I almost ask him what he’s doing. The intensity behind his eyes is enough to burn me. “Was your dream really that bad?”

He lets out an uncertain breath as his eyebrows draw together. I don’t miss the way his jaw clenches. “It’s more than the dream. I...y/n, princess,” he tacts on, a hint of humor returning to him, “you’re more than a mission to me.”

The admission is so soft I can’t help but smile. “I know, Anakin, we’re--”

“You’re more than a friend to me.” I don’t know if my blood freezes in my veins or if my lungs don’t contract when they should or if my heart literally skips a beat, but I know something in me completely stops at his words. “I--”

“Don’t say it.” I don’t know how I managed to cut him off so sharply and I’m a little disappointed when I do, but it’s the right thing to do. Thought of the code that’s so important to him have clouded half the immense shock and joy swelling in my chest. “What you’re trying to say...I um, I want to say the same.” I try to drop my gaze but he tilts my head up slightly with his hand. “But we shouldn’t, you know that.”

"You want to us to pretend that nothing’s different? You want me to escort you from meetings with one suitor to the next every Coronation Season until you’re married off?”

“No, I’m not saying that. The point is that I’m not saying anything.” His eyebrows draw together in uncertainty. “Isn’t it enough for now, for both of us to just know? If we say it...that could mean bad things for you. And I don’t want to be a bad thing for you.”

“You could never be.”

It’d be so easy to believe him. To believe him and to let him say what I never imagined I’d be able to hear and damn the consequences of tomorrow. “Can we just refrain from verbally saying anything until you’re sure?”

“I’m sure right now. I’ve been sure since the first time we ever walked in the garden together. The night after the first Coronation Ball I escorted you to.”

I remember that night well. The way he hadn’t scolded me for needing air or taking off my uncomfortably high heels to walk in the grass. “If you mean it, you won’t say it yet. I refuse to get in the way of what you’re meant for.”

His thumb runs my cheek entirely, stopping at the corner of my mouth. “Are you capable of not disagreeing with me?”

Rolling my eyes slightly, I place my hand over his. “Probably not.”

Anakin exhales, his playful irritation clear in the sound. “You’re impossible when you’re tired.”

“I am not tired.”

“I can see the sleep in your eyes.”

“I can see it in yours too.”

He pauses, eyebrows drawn together cautiously. “I’ll go to sleep if you do.”

He must be more tired than I thought if he’s compromising with me so quickly. “Deal.”

Neither of us close our eyes for a long second, we just watch each other with wide eyes. It still doesn’t feel like he’s eased, but he’s come back to me so much more than he was earlier. I’ll make sure to check how he’s feeling in the morning. The first morning after we’ve...I don’t know.

I’m trying really hard not to get excited because anything that’s been not said could be taken back so easily. That’s the point--but it’s hard not to let my heart get ahead of my rationality. I’ll just take the good for what it is for now and tomorrow we can figure out the rest. Even though he’s not allowed to form attachments and my father really wants to marry me off to foreign royalty.

Tomorrow. This can begin to be solved tomorrow. My eyes shut and I let myself roll fully onto my back. The second I’m comfortably settled, I feel Anakin shift against the bed. I’m too tired to open my eyes until I feel a weight placed against my chest.

I open my eyes on instinct, less surprised than I should be when I see Anakin’s head resting against my chest. Before I can speak, I feel his arm rest against my side. “Anakin,” I breathe, my hand moving to smooth his hair out of his face the way I’ve wanted to for so long. “What did we just talk about?”

“You said not to say anything,” he mumbles comfortably, “I’m not saying anything.” ...It is kind of the ideal compromise. Especially since I’m too tired to find reason and he feels so warm. “I can feel you overthinking. Go back to smoothing my hair before I have to rise and stand at your door so that your handmaid comes to wake you. Something tells me she’d be glad for the excuse to get rid of me.”

That might be the most dramatic thing I’ve ever heard him say. Selma is the most patient woman in the palace. “Selma would never report anything involving me, I can’t believe you don’t like her. She’s the sweetest woman I’ve ever met.”

“She’s the one that doesn’t like me,” he says, “she always watches me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m planning on stealing you away.”

Too tired to fight my smile, I go back to smoothing his hair out with my fingers. After a moment, he lets out an exhale that relaxes his entire body. “Goodnight, princess.”

“Goodnight.” The word is barely a mumble as I feel sleep tug against me for the second time tonight.

It’s strange, but my excitement doesn’t diminish my tiredness, it just makes the prospect of rest feel so much fuller. Safer. Because there’s so much to sort out and grieve but it’s okay, because we have the time and everything feels okay because Anakin is here, right beneath my fingertips.

#anakin skywalker #anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin x you #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x y/n #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars imagines #star wars fic

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honeypiehotchner · 3 years

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winter love (all i want for Christmas is you) -- Hotch x Fem!Reader

Hi hi hi!! I have literally been writing this on and off since September, and now I finally get to share it!! A few quick things: this fic has very much Hallmark vibes but does have a good dose of angst too; for the sake of this fic, Aaron was born and raised in Virginia; and Jack was never born (sorry buddy!).

I listened to Michael Bublé’s songs “All I Want for Christmas Is You” and “Cold December Night” a lot while writing this, so feel free to play those while you read! xx.

(The gif is from google because once again, my gif search is broken on here because apparently this post is too long?? Rip me)

Summary: You’ve returned back to your hometown after leaving to get your education, but you didn’t expect to run into your childhood best friend (and first love).

Word count: 9.4k

HOTCH MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

If you told yourself a few months ago that you’d be moving back to Virginia, you would’ve scoffed and probably laughed -- loudly. Your mom, on the other hand, would’ve been elated, and swore she knew it.

Like she’s doing now.

“I’m just so excited to have you home again,” she gushes, helping you carry boxes of your clothes up to your old childhood room.

The room needs some work, like taking down all these embarrassing posters and changing the sheets to something not so cringe-worthy (thankfully, it’s a full-size bed instead of the old twin you grew up sleeping on). But it’ll be fine for the time being. It’s not like you’re going to find an apartment right before Christmas, or that you even want to. It’s been a while since you’ve spent a full Christmas season with your mom.

You’ve been studying out of state for the past six years, working to get your masters and doctorate degrees — which you’ve completed. But now you need a job and a new start, which is why you decided to come home.

You’ve missed Virginia a lot more than you’ll admit. It’s hard not to miss your hometown when you’re gone from it for so long.

“We need a Christmas tree,” you say, as you come back down the stairs. “Christmas is next week, how do you not have a tree up yet?”

“I wasn’t going to get one without you,” your mom says like the fact should’ve been obvious to you.

You laugh as you plop down next to her on the couch. “I know. We should go tomorrow.”

“Whenever you want to,” she smiles, squeezing your arm. “Have you been to your coffee shop yet?”

“My coffee shop?” You raise an eyebrow. “Since when has it been mine?”

“Since you practically lived there during high school,” your mom counters.

She has a point. “Well, no, I haven’t. I just got here.”

“You should go.”

You raise both eyebrows this time, turning your entire body to face her. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you trying to get me to go back there?”

“Why don’t you want to?”

You give her a look. “You know why.”

“I don’t.”

She does. She knows exactly what happened there.

“I’m not repeating it,” you mutter. “And I’ll be finding a new coffee shop, thank you very much.”

“Oh, you can’t let one bad experience stop you from going there!”

“So you do remember!”

“How could I forget? When you were a wreck for months after. I still never forgave him for that, you know.”

You shake your head, settling back against the couch pillows. “It’s been long enough now that I think forgiveness won’t hurt anyone.”

You say that, and yet you don’t want to step foot in that shop ever again.

+++

It was the summer before your junior year. Aaron was a rising senior, so there was the weight of it being his last year already hanging in the air. Especially when he was already looking at a pre-law track for college — meaning he’d be insanely busy after graduation with not much time for you.

Unfortunately, you didn’t realize that his being too busy for you would start before then.

You were a year younger — technically almost two, but the way your birthday fell, you were only one grade younger — but that didn’t stop Aaron from being your friend. At first you thought he had ill intentions (as most older boys in high school did), but he didn’t. He genuinely enjoyed your company, and you genuinely enjoyed his.

More than genuinely. You say now that you don’t believe in love at first sight, but you know that’s because it already happened for you, and you believe it to be a one-time deal.

That one time was when Aaron sat across from you at the lunch table.

You were alone and reading a book. You were a freshman then, and being an extra year younger didn’t exactly help in the whole making friends department. Especially when a lot of your peers were already aware of your age.

But Aaron wasn’t aware, nor did he even care.

He saw that you were alone, and reading, and he decided to sit with you. He wanted to read too, anyway, but he knew he didn’t always like being alone when he read. Something told him you were the same way.

He was correct.

It took almost the entire fall semester before either of you said one word to each other. Sometimes you’d be too engrossed in the book you were reading to even notice he’d sat down in front of you. And when you would finally notice, he would be the one with his nose too deep in the book to notice.

But eventually, you started sharing book recommendations.

Which eventually turned into helping each other with homework. You were always better at math and Spanish than he was (you were already in the sophomore levels of these classes as a freshman), but he was always good with history and English. He must’ve noticed you were in freshman English and history, but he never commented on it — at least not in a way that said he was bullying you.

That winter break was when you started going to the coffee shop together. It was within walking distance of the high school, so the two of you would go at the end of the day until your parents could pick you up. Sometimes your mom would drive him home, or vice versa.

And when Aaron got his license, he’d drive you both there and drop you off at home.

The two of you were inseparable. Almost literally.

Until Aaron met Haley.

Haley was in theatre. She was everything you weren’t. Aaron’s age, pretty, funny, outgoing, and worst of all: popular.

You watched your best friend fall in love.

And that wouldn’t have hurt as bad as it did if it wasn’t Haley he was falling for.

You kept your feelings for Aaron quiet, even to your mom — though you found out later that she always knew. You had almost thought he felt the same, or that he might be beginning to, and then suddenly he was talking about some girl named Haley.

Only she wasn’t just “some girl” to him, or even to you. Everyone knew Haley Brooks.

Slowly, your lunch table conversations were less about what the two of you were going to do the coming weekend, and more about Haley. How he was going to get her to notice him (join theatre, even though he never liked theatre before her). How he was going to ask her on a date (it wouldn’t be a date at first, just dinner after theatre rehearsal, that ended up being with the entire cast, but he sat next to her). How he was going to win her over (he brought flowers to the first performance and surprised her backstage). How he was going to ask her to be his girlfriend (that was the same night as the flowers, completely unplanned, but she said yes).

How he thought he might want to marry her one day.

The last hurt most of all. He confessed it to you one night out of the blue as he was driving you home after school. You knew you could handle him being in love with someone else. Some sick part of you knew — or hoped, rather — that the relationship wouldn’t last. What high school relationship lasts longer than a few months, anyway?

But when Aaron fell for Haley, he fell completely. And hard.

He started cancelling plans with you to spend time with Haley — before they were even dating. When they were dating, he stopped making plans with you altogether.

Then came the summer before his senior year.

It had been months since you saw him last. You had a new lunch period the second half of the year because one of your favorite teachers asked for help during the period, which meant you didn’t have lunch with Aaron — but you don’t even think he noticed.

June came and went. The two of you barely saw one another, barely talked when you did. But when you did, you clung to those moments like they were your only lifeline. In a way, they were.

July finally came and he actually made plans to see you. He said he wanted to get coffee again, catch up, hang out for a few hours, sit in silence, even, whatever you wanted. You were excited.

Some part of you thought that he had broken up with Haley — wishful thinking, but you were sixteen and in love, what else were you supposed to think?

But he hadn’t broken up with her. They were very much in love. You know. You witnessed it.

Apparently, Haley didn’t like the idea of Aaron getting coffee and lunch alone with a female friend. So, she took it upon herself to tag along.

You saw them sharing a kiss through the window, Aaron’s back facing you. When they pulled away, Haley’s eyes caught yours, but she said nothing to Aaron, just pulled him back in for another kiss.

You didn’t go into the shop that day. And you haven’t since.

The last time you saw Aaron was the day before he moved to college. He was stopping by to say goodbye to you.

You were reading a book in your room, and your eyes caught the movement on the driveway. You told your mom to say you weren’t home.

You watched him leave from your bedroom window, hands stuffed in his pockets.

+++

You heard that Aaron and Haley got married. Not because you wanted to hear, but because your mom told you. She probably meant well, but you drank an entire bottle of wine that night. You weren’t even 21 yet at the time.

Of course, it’s been years since then. You’re all fine now, and you’ve got the student loan debt to prove it.

But even with three degrees, job hunting can be a bitch. Especially this time of year.

You need coffee.

You blame the fact that this coffee shop is the best one around. And the fact that it’s Christmas season, meaning they have your favorite drink again.

Dark chocolate peppermint mocha. It’s a godsend. And you haven’t had one in years.

Well, you have. But they haven’t been from here. They haven’t had this shop’s specially made peppermint whipped cream, or the peppermint stick that can be used to stir.

You hate how much you have to psych yourself up before you walk inside. You don’t even know where Aaron is these days or what he’s doing. He could be halfway across the country for all you know.

So, with that fact in mind, you walk inside. You embrace the familiar sight and smells, remembering what it felt like the last time you were here.

You move toward the counter, falling in the short line to the register. And your stomach flips when you see a familiar face standing in front of you.

Well, his back is facing you, so you don’t see his face, but you know it’s him. There’s this thing about first loves. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last time you’ve seen them. You’ll always recognize everything about them. The back of their head, their shoulders, their hands, the way they walk.

Their voice. Even if it’s deeper than the last time you heard it.

Maybe he won’t recognize me.

But what you don’t know is that no amount of time could pass to make you unrecognizable to Aaron.

Or that he saw your reflection in the glass case next to him when you got in line, and he’s been internally trying to figure out what the hell to say to you since.

If it hadn’t been for his voice, you wouldn’t have recognized Aaron at all. A black coffee? That’s it?

The barista pours it and slides it over to him before he’s even done paying. He’s at a coffee shop -- this coffee shop, and he orders a black coffee?

Who is he?

You step up to the register as he steps away, and you swear you see him looking at you through the corner of your eyes. But you must be seeing things because why would he do that?

You focus on ordering -- a medium peppermint mocha, complete with the whipped cream and peppermint stick. After paying, you step to the side to wait for your coffee.

You nearly knock right into Aaron, but you stop yourself, well aware of his presence.

Another thing about first loves: you’re always painfully aware of their presence.

“Hi,” he says, awkward and fumbling even though it’s only one word. He’s wearing a stuffy suit and tie, which seems odd, but you’re positive that’s just normal lawyer attire. He probably lives in a suit these days. His hair is shorter than it used to be and he looks older, but so do you. Despite all of this, he’s still Aaron. He’s still the same Aaron Hotchner you fell in love with at sixteen.

“Hi,” you return the awkward smile, tugging on the strap of your purse. After a beat, you nod toward his drink. “Black coffee, huh?” You try to tease. “Who hurt you?”

He laughs loudly then, shoulders and head shaking. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Hotchner,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself.

The conversation dies for a moment, so you busy yourself by looking at the different cakes and pastries in the glass case. You probably should’ve gotten one, but maybe another time.

Another time. Fifteen minutes ago you wouldn’t be caught dead in this shop and now you’re already thinking about another time.

“Are you busy?” Aaron suddenly asks, prompting you to look at him with furrowed brows. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” you smile gently, knowing you might regret this later. But it’s been over a decade since you’ve seen him last. One coffee won’t hurt.

And I’m over him, you remind yourself, no matter how untrue it might be.

Once you have your peppermint mocha -- finally, you think, it’s been too long -- you walk with Aaron to find a table. A lot has changed about this shop, but one thing that hasn’t (because there isn’t much that can be changed) is the seating.

Aaron leads you to your old table. The table the two of you practically lived at.

It makes your heart warm and ache all at once. The drink you decided to order isn’t helping matters either.

“So…” You pause, shifting in your seat. “What are you up to these days?”

“You stole my question,” he jokes.

“Tough,” you smile into your drink. “I asked it first.”

He chuckles, but answers anyway. “I’m working for the BAU now.”

“The B-A-What?”

“The-- FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Your eyes widen. “Did you… Did you really just say you’re working for the FBI?”

“I think so,” he says. “I’m the unit chief.”

“You’re the-- Okay. So, you don’t work for the...the BAU, they work for you.”

“We’re a team,” he offers.

“Said every boss ever,” you quip, taking a long drink of your mocha. You take the peppermint stick in between your fingers and stir, eyebrows furrowing down at the swirl of coffee and whipped cream. “So...what do you do exactly?”

He opens his mouth to answer, then stops, hesitating. “Do you really want to know?”

You give him a look. “Of course I do.”

“It’s not great.”

“Aaron, just tell me, or I’ll start reciting my dissertation word for word.” Your statement stuns him to silence, so badly that you almost laugh. “That’s boring. Working for the FBI can’t possibly be boring.”

“Oh, it’s never boring, that’s for sure,” he mutters. “We profile serial killers.”

“You what?”

He laughs. “We look at their behaviors and crimes and build a profile, what they might look like, their age, that stuff.”

“Intriguing.”

“I can’t believe you’re interested.”

“I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t be,” you counter. “You know I thrive off this stuff.”

“I remember,” he says quietly.

And just like that, you remember, too.

It’s so easy to forget about all the hurt he caused, all the pain he left behind. Especially because you know he never intended to hurt you. He would never do that, not to you, not on purpose. You never told him how you felt. It’s not his fault he couldn’t read your mind.

“Well, you’ve got a doctorate,” he says, shifting the conversation. “What else are you up to?”

“How did you know it’s a doctorate?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you profiling me? Did I use that correctly?”

“Yes,” he smiles. “And no, not intentionally. You said you’d recite your dissertation. Those are normally written to get doctorate degrees. You always wanted one, I assumed you met your goal.”

“You assume correct,” you nod. “I’m back to start job and apartment hunting, but after the new year. I wanted to spend some time with my mom.”

“How is she doing?”

“She’s good, she--” You pause, shaking your head with a laugh. “She actually brought you up yesterday.”

“Me?” Aaron looks genuinely shocked.

“Yeah, you,” you knock your foot against his leg without thinking, but you pay no mind, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to it. “She’s actually the one who put the bug in my ear to come here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I haven’t been back here since…”

It takes him a moment, but he nods slowly. “Right.”

“Yeah,” you draw your legs closer to you on instinct. “But that was a long time ago. How are you and Haley?”

You don’t expect the way his face falls. You glance down at his left hand. No ring.

“We got a divorce a few years ago, split up about a good year before that,” Aaron explains. “She’s good, last I heard. Remarried already.”

“Wow,” you murmur, not knowing what else to say. “What-- I mean, what happened?” When he hesitates, you backpedal. “Sorry, I shouldn’t even ask, it’s probably a sensitive question.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron chuckles. “I don’t mind talking about it with you.”

That sends a dangerous flutter through your stomach. “Okay. Well I’m all ears.”

“Oh, it’s not a long story, it was just my job,” he shrugs. “I took the unit chief position and she was happy at first. But then, there was a period of time where we had what felt like case after case after case.” He shakes his head. “I was barely home, but I was barely in one state for long, anyway. It was a stressful time. We were everywhere at once.”

“That does sound stressful,” you frown. “Has it slowed down now?”

“Kind of, it has its moments,” he admits. “But being gone so much, it took a toll on her. She wanted to start a family, but said she couldn’t do that if I was never there.”

“But I mean she had to have known how your schedule would be with the new job, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, then shrugs. “It’s been so long now that I stopped trying to understand her thought process.”

“I get that,” you say sincerely. You understand not wanting to waste energy on something like that anymore. Sometimes you just have to give it up and have peace with the fact that you’ll never understand.

“What about you?” He asks suddenly, catching you off guard. “Seeing anyone?” He adds it quietly, like he’s shy.

Aaron Hotchner. Shy. Around you.

“Oh,” you nearly laugh at the prospect. “No. No, I’m not. Do you really think I would be if I was moving back in with my mom?”

He laughs, bringing his coffee to his lips. “You have a point there.”

A comforting silence settles over the two of you after that.

You shouldn’t feel slightly giddy that his and Haley’s relationship didn’t work out in the end. You’re over him by now, anyway. But something about being right has you fighting a smile. You smother the urge, though, knowing he probably doesn’t want to hear anyone, let alone you, say, “I told you so.”

You do feel bad for him, genuinely. Divorce is never easy for anyone, and you hate he went through that. Especially like that. Haley knew his work schedule would change. Why would she act supportive if she knew this in advance? Just sits uneasy with you, that’s all.

Of course, you feel that overprotective-best-friend nature coming back to you.

“What plans do you have now that you’re back?” He asks, keeping the conversation up, but you can tell he’s earnest — which makes you smile.

“Nothing, really. My mom and I are getting a Christmas tree later, but that’s all I have on my schedule.” You pause, giving him another look. “We both know you were my only friend in high school. Who do you think I’m going to see while I’m here?”

“Hopefully a lot of me,” he replies easily, smiling around his coffee.

And for once, you don’t hesitate to reply. “I hope so, too, actually. I didn’t think you were still around here. And I really didn’t expect you to be working for the FBI.”

“This might be presumptuous of me, but what are you doing this weekend?” He asks, quickly adding on, “A good friend of mine is hosting a Christmas party for the team, and I’ve basically been threatened to bring a plus one.”

“Threatened, huh?” You raise an eyebrow.

He nods seriously. “They won’t let me inside without one.”

You gasp comically, keeping up the act. “Well you can’t miss the party!”

“I know,” he sighs, propping his head in his hand.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to come with,” you say, still deadly serious.

But Aaron’s lips split into a grin the same time yours does. “It’s this Saturday.”

“Lucky for you, I’m free.”

He doesn’t stop grinning. “I can pick you up, if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you say. “I should probably give you my number, shouldn’t I?”

“I was going to ask,” he admits.

You roll your eyes playfully. “I figured.”

After exchanging numbers, the two of you return to your idle conversations. Only, they’re less idle than they ever have been before.

He vents about still not understanding how people can be capable of the things he sees. How he knows that everyone is capable of unspeakable things, but it’s how they do it that still makes him stumble sometimes. And you try to sympathize, though you know you can’t. But still you tell him not to try to understand.

“You’re a good man,” you say. “You’re not going to understand it because you’re not like them.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I know that, consciously. Sometimes it’s good to hear it from someone else.”

Then he tells you it’s your turn, and again, you don’t feel the need to hesitate.

You tell him how you weren’t planning on moving back here at all. But the job market where you were didn’t...fit you, for some reason. You never felt like you belonged, and so maybe that’s why you wanted to come back here.

Because even though you left this place heartbroken, you still felt like you belonged when you were here. You felt like you belonged when you were with him, but you don’t tell him that.

Something tells you he heard it anyway, though. Being a profiler and all. Which you still don’t quite understand, but you’re sure he’ll have plenty of time to tell you in the coming future.

+++

After an hour or two, you decide it’s time for you to head back home. Partly because you need to make some lunch for yourself, and partly because you’ve watched Aaron dismiss at least three phone calls in the last twenty minutes.

But he didn’t say a word each time, so you know he won’t tell you who it is or if he needs to go. It makes your heart warm at the thought that he wants to spend more time with you, but if it’s his job, then he needs to go.

He walks you to your car and you hug him around his neck, unashamedly taking a deep breath of his cologne when you stretch up to wrap your arms around him. He didn’t wear cologne back in high school. But this one smells good.

You mentally prepare yourself on the way home for the amount of questions your mom is no doubt going to ask.

You’re supposed to be going to pick out a tree with her today, which means you were supposed to be home a little earlier than this, which means your mom probably already knows what happened and you won’t even get a chance to explain yourself.

In the end, your prediction was correct.

“How was your peppermint mocha?” You glance over to the couch and find your mom sitting there, idly reading a book.

The question is as directly indirect as they come. You raise an eyebrow and kick the front door closed (yes, she asked before you even stepped foot inside the house). “It was good,” you reply, shrugging your jacket off your shoulders. “Why?”

“Oh, you enjoyed it for almost two hours, so I was just wondering.” Your mom fights back a grin, but she’s not doing a very good job.

You sigh. “Just go ahead and ask.”

She closes her book. “Alright, fine, I will. How is Aaron?”

There it is.

“He’s good,” you answer rather pointedly, making your way into the living room. “He’s working for the FBI now.”

“Oh, I knew that already.”

You plop down next to her on the couch. “Seriously?”

“Of course!” She cries, like it should be obvious. “Small talk happens when you see someone in the store.”

“Right,” you scoff. “Anyway, thanks for not telling me him and Haley divorced.”

She grimaces.

“Yeah, exactly,” you nod at her expression. “That’s how I felt. I bet it was just awesome of me to ask about how him and his ex-wife are doing.”

“I’m sorry,” your mom says. “It completely slipped my mind. It’s been so long since those two split.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?”

“Because I didn’t want to bring him up,” she answers sincerely. “You seemed like you had really moved on. I figured it didn’t matter, and I didn’t want to make you start thinking about him again when you had finally gotten over it all.”

“Oh,” you murmur. “Well, thank you, then, but...still. I feel like an idiot.”

“Did he seem angry when you asked?”

“No, the opposite,” you sigh. “He explained what happened and I let him talk about it for a second, but he seems mostly moved on from it.”

“I don’t know how he can be,” your mom scoffs. “She’s already remarried, you know.”

“Yeah, he told me.”

Your mom shakes her head. “I should’ve shook some sense into that boy when he came to say goodbye that day.” Then she pauses, poking your leg. “And I should’ve made you say goodbye to him. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“I didn’t wanna talk to him,” you shrug. “We barely had all year, anyway. And one goodbye would not have stopped him from going to college and marrying Haley, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighs. “It’s fun to think about, though.”

“Well stop thinking about it,” you mutter. “We are friends and he’s probably seeing someone by now. I don’t even know how long I’ll be here, so.”

Your mom raises her eyebrows. “I never said anything about what you guys are now.”

Damn. Caught. “I know, but I’m just...catching you before you do.”

“Mmm, more like catching yourself.”

“Shut up.”

She lightly hits you with a pillow. “Don’t say that to your mother,” she jokes. “Especially not when I’m right and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Are you ready to pick out a tree?”

“Of course,” she replies. “Just let me find my shoes.”

While she’s getting ready -- because “finding her shoes” really means fixing her hair and makeup and changing outfits a couple times -- you get a text from Aaron.

Aaron: It was nice catching up with you today

You smile and type your reply. Ditto. We should do it again sometime.

He doesn’t reply, but you figure he’s busy at work, anyway. And you’ve got a tree to pick out and decorate, so you’re technically busy, too.

You try not to think too much about it.

+++

And truthfully, you don’t think much about it, until Aaron finally replies. It’s hours later when you’re decorating the freshly-cut Christmas tree in the living room, with Michael Bublé’s Christmas album playing through the stereo speakers. It’s just like when you were younger.

You check your phone and see that it’s Aaron texting you back, but you pocket it before reading the message. You’re busy.

Your mom notices the change on your face. “Everything alright?” She asks as she places a snowflake ornament on one of the smaller branches.

You nod without thinking, hating yourself for even feeling what you’re feeling right now. A glittery red ornament hangs from your index finger as you try to find the right branch to hang it on -- and while your mind wanders all over the place.

“Clearly not,” your mom replies. “But alright.” She turns and reaches into a different box, picking up one of the golden jingle bells that she always hides deep within the tree each year. When you were younger, she’d hide them without you seeing, and then on Christmas Eve you’d have to search the tree for them before you could open one present before going to sleep.

You snort a laugh, always loving her way of getting you to open up: sarcasm. “It’s just Aaron.”

“Aaron?”

“Texting me,” you explain, looking down at the glitter coating your fingertips from the ornaments.

“Aren’t you going to reply?” She asks, grabbing another jingle bell.

“Technically he’s the one replying from earlier today.”

“Okay…”

You sigh. Time to cave. “He invited me to a Christmas party this weekend.”

Your mom doesn’t even try to hide her excitement or her wide grin. “Really? That’s great!”

Is it? You want to ask, but you stop yourself. “Yeah,” you shrug. “I guess so. It’ll be nice to hang out with him more.” You pause, finally hanging the small glittery red ornament on the tree that you’ve been idly holding for the past two minutes. “Apparently a friend of his is hosting it and basically told him he wouldn’t be allowed inside without a plus one.” You chuckle quietly, knowing Aaron had to have rolled his eyes when his friend told him that.

“So it’s...a date, then?”

“What? No,” you shake your head. “No, no. Not a date. He didn’t phrase it that way.”

“Sweetheart, plus one implies date.”

“Who says?”

“Everyone!” Your mom laughs. “Bringing a plus one to a wedding is usually a casual date, if not bringing your significant other along.”

“This isn’t a wedding, it’s just a Christmas get together.”

“Same difference.”

“Well, I think you’re doing that thing again where you try to plant seeds in my brain for things that are unnecessary,” you raise an eyebrow at her when she avoids eye contact, so you know you’ve caught her red-handed. “All that aside,” you sigh. “I’m over him. It’s been so long. If something was going to happen, it would have already.”

“Whatever you say,” she shrugs indifferently, grabbing the final jingle bell to hide in the top of the tree. For a brief moment, you wish you hadn’t been watching where she hid them, so you could do the search on Christmas Eve one more time.

+++

You bump into Aaron one more time, two days later, at the same coffee shop.

“Back for more?” He teases as he slides into the seat across from you, another black coffee in his right hand.

You’re sitting at the table the two of you call home with yet another peppermint mocha sitting in front of you and your laptop. More job hunting is the task for today, even though you’re ready to give up and just pick it back up after the New Year. It’s not like your mom is making you pay rent, and you have enough in savings to help with groceries (without her knowledge, of course, because she refuses to let you pay for anything) and buy your own coffees. But, you decided to give it one last go today.

That is, until Aaron slid into the seat in front of you. Now, you close your laptop and place it back in your bag. “Just needed some fuel for more job hunting,” you grin. “What are you doing here?”

“I took off for lunch for once and thought I might find you here.”

“Oh?” You raise your eyebrows. “Were you seeking me out, Hotchner?”

“Maybe a little,” he admits with a shy smile. “Are you still good for tomorrow?”

“As long as you are,” you nod. “What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at five, if that’s good?”

“Perfect,” you smile. “Are you ready to introduce me to your friends?”

“Depends,” he exhales exasperatedly. “Are you ready to meet them?”

“They can’t be that bad.”

“They might be. If you aren’t used to them.” He pauses. “They don’t know you’re coming, by the way.”

“What?” You almost laugh. “Why not?”

“I told them I was bringing someone, but I didn’t feel like hearing it all week about who I was bringing.” He pauses again, like he’s holding something back, and then he lets it out. “They know all about you.”

You blink. “They do?”

“Yeah,” he smiles gently. “I talk about you all the time.”

“No,” you shake your head. “No you don’t. There’s no way.”

“You’ll believe it tomorrow,” he chuckles. “I’m sure they’ll try to embarrass me.”

“I-I mean...what do you even say about me?”

He shrugs. “That you were my best friend in high school and...that I missed you and wondered what you were up to these days, and how we used to hang out here.” He looks around the shop, then back to you and your bewildered expression. “What?” He laughs. “You didn’t talk to your friends about me?”

“No, I did,” you laugh quietly. But I said different things. And most of the time I was crying because I missed you, especially my first year of college when my roommate tried to get me to go on a double date with her boyfriend and his roommate, but I refused and had to confess that I wasn’t over you and that you broke my heart, and I was such a mess that she brought ice cream and chocolate back after their date.

But you don’t say any of that. Obviously.

“I just didn’t expect you to even...think about me, I guess,” you finally spit out, still shaking your head. “I mean...we haven’t talked since high school, I figured you’d forgotten or moved on, at least. Especially since you had Haley.”

Aaron’s expression softens and turns sad, quickly. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t know you thought any of that.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you wave his worry away. “It’s years ago. Water under the bridge.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. Then, he says, “Haley was jealous of you, you know.”

You immediately look up from your mocha, your eyes wide in shock. “She was what?”

“Oh yeah,” Aaron laughs. “Devastatingly jealous of you. She swore we were dating or that I was in love with you or something.”

Or something. “Wow,” you chuckle, trying to mask your hurt as much as possible. “Why did she even think that?”

You know why. You know exactly why. Because before her, you and Aaron were attached at the hip. You sat together during lunch, walked each other home, hung out at the coffee shop, went to school functions together (well, you’d actually go with a big group, but you two always ended up together anyway), and so on and so forth. Anyone would’ve been an idiot to not assume you two were dating.

“We were so close,” he shrugs. “She said she was so surprised when I asked her to be my girlfriend because she swore I was dating you. She actually asked me that, when I gave her the flowers. She said, “What about Y/N?” And I said, “Y/N? She’s just my best friend.” And she didn’t believe me.”

“That’s so crazy,” you say, but you’re really thinking back to that day you and Aaron had decided to meet up here and hang out after so long. When Haley crashed the hangout. When she locked eyes with you and smirked before pulling him back in for another kiss.

She was jealous. She was jealous and she knew exactly what she was doing that day.

Aaron’s phone starts ringing and he sighs heavily, pulling it out. He almost declines it, but then stops himself. “It’s the boss,” he says. “My boss. I’ve gotta take this. I’ll text you later?”

“Sure,” you smile, knowing he might forget or get too busy to think about it. But that’s okay. “Good luck with the phone call.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. “I’ll need it.” And then he brings his phone up to his ear. “Agent Hotchner,” he says, and you hate that you find it so hot.

+++

You almost cancel with Aaron a dozen times before 2p.m.

You blame the conversation the two of you had yesterday. For some reason, the thought of Haley being jealous of you had never crossed your mind. Because to you, it was so obviously the other way around. Of course, you weren’t vocal about your jealousy, but you were certain she knew. Not that it was the other way around.

Old feelings have already resurfaced, which is bad enough, but the talk about Haley and about how Aaron’s friends know all about you made things worse. Especially the latter.

Why would he talk about you so much if the two of you hadn’t spoken in years? Not even years, but like an entire decade. Why would he still talk about you and think about you that much?

You have dwelled over those questions since he left the coffee shop yesterday.

But now, you have no idea what to wear, and Aaron will be here any minute. You’re assuming the attire is casual, not fancy, since it’s just a get together with his friends -- who all happen to be his team of agents. FBI agents. Because he’s just casually the Unit Chief of the BAU.

It still baffles you. He wanted to be a lawyer. Not in the FBI. God.

He’s still your Aaron. That’s what shocks you the most. He’s experienced law school, marriage, practicing law, working for the FBI, becoming a Unit Chief, divorce, and yet he’s still the Aaron Hotchner you were best friends with in high school.

You wonder if you’re still the girl he was best friends with in high school. Or if you’ve changed so drastically that he doesn’t see you that way anymore.

You take a deep breath, going back to digging through the many boxes of clothes that you have yet to unpack. You need a sweater or something. That’s safe enough, right? It’s too cold for a dress, and frankly, you’re not in the mood for wearing one, anyway.

Finally, you find the sweater you were looking for. You tug it over your head, figuring your jeans are fine enough. You’ll wear some low heels to make it look like you put in a little more effort.

Your quick thinking is to your benefit because the doorbell rings almost as soon as you’re done doing the clasp on your second heel.

But because your mom is quicker than you, she’s already opened the door and let Aaron in before you can make it downstairs. And by the time you are coming down the stairs, Aaron is sitting on the couch with your mom, making idle conversation.

“Hey,” you smile at him, resisting the urge to glare at your mom. “Ready?”

“If you are,” he nods, standing to his feet.

When he turns, you shoot your mom a look. “We’ll be back later.”

“You’re not in high school,” your mom laughs. “You two have fun for as long as you like.”

“I know,” you say. “But I also know you’ll wait up until I get back.”

“And you can’t stop me,” she replies pointedly.

Aaron laughs at the two of you, your banter just as he remembers from all those years ago. Neither of you have changed one bit.

After a final moment of bickering, you bid your mom goodbye and leave with Aaron.

In the car, you ask, “Have you told them about me coming yet?”

From the driver’s seat, he shakes his head. “No, so prepare yourself for a lot of questions.”

“I think you’re the one that’ll be in hot water, but alright,” you chuckle. “I can hear them now. ‘Why didn’t you tell us you were bringing her!’”

He laughs loudly. “That’s not a bad impression, actually.”

“Why, thank you,” you smirk. “It’s a hidden talent of mine.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm.”

The two of you share a grin as he keeps driving.

+++

After some time -- long enough that you were beginning to wonder where he’s taking you -- Aaron finally turns into a subdivision. But it’s still not what you were expecting.

You assumed FBI agents must make good money, but not this good. This is a mansion. It’s massive. There has to be at least six bedrooms in there, maybe more.

“Is your friend a millionaire or something?”

Aaron chuckles, “Maybe. Probably. Maybe more.”

“More?” Your eyes widen. “Wow.” And then Aaron pulls into the driveway. “Wow.”

He puts the car in park and says, “Try not to look too surprised. Dave won’t shut up about the house if you get him started.”

“What if I want to hear everything?” You ask, scrambling out of the car to look up at the house. “Jesus Christ.” Then you whip your head around to look at Aaron exasperatedly. “Does your house look like this?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “No. This is too big. Dave’s crazy for buying it.”

“He’s definitely insane,” you nod. “I mean, what do you even need a house this big for?”

Aaron shrugs. “Christmas parties, I guess.” He pauses, holding out his arm for you. “Ready to face the lions?”

You roll your eyes through a laugh, loosely holding onto his arm. “Quit being so dramatic. I bet it’ll be just fine.”

“Let’s hope so,” Aaron replies. Because truthfully, he is a little worried that they might scare you off. They have a habit of doing that.

The two of you walk up to the front door, and you try your best to act like you’ve been in the general vicinity of a house this big before. Dave must be a really good friend of Aaron’s, because instead of knocking or ringing the doorbell, Aaron twists the doorknob and walks right in with you on his arm.

“Dave’s making pasta,” Aaron whispers, smelling the air. He shuts the door gently, wanting to surprise the team as much as possible.

You sniff the air, too, smiling happily. “Smells really good. Is that carbonara?”

“Good nose,” a voice says from the kitchen.

“That’s Dave,” Aaron chuckles, walking you down the hall toward the smell.

The team’s eyes all widen dramatically and comically when Aaron Hotchner steps inside the kitchen with a woman on his arm.

“Well, hello,” one of them says, sliding off the stool at the counter to saunter over to you. He’s all suave and swagger.

“Derek Morgan, this is Y/N,” Aaron introduces you quickly, knowing the reaction your name will get.

“Hold up,” Derek pauses, glancing between you and Aaron. “Y/N? As in the Y/N?”

“I don’t know about being the Y/N, but that is my name,” you laugh. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Derek says, a hand over his heart to add to the sincerity. “Where have you been hiding all this time?”

“Getting a doctorate,” you shrug, only now realizing that your hand is still holding onto Aaron’s arm, but he doesn’t seem fazed by it either, so you don’t move.

“Oh, alright,” Derek chuckles. “Hey Reid, we’ve got another doctor here.”

The man in question, Reid, looks up from the book he was reading with furrowed eyebrows. “Hi.” He waves.

“Hey,” you wave back. “What’re you reading?”

“War and Peace. In Russian, though.”

“In-- Wow, okay.”

“He’s a genius,” Morgan explains.

“I see that,” you chuckle.

Aaron finishes the introductions for you. “That’s JJ, handles the press for us because none of us want to do it.”

“He’s not wrong,” JJ replies with a laugh. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” you smile.

“You met Reid, his first name’s Spencer,” Aaron supplies, and Reid is too far gone in the book again to notice. “This is Emily Prentiss.”

“And I have been dying to meet you,” Emily says. “You are exactly how he described.”

“In a good way, I hope?” You laugh nervously.

She nods. “Definitely.”

Aaron points to the other woman at the counter. She’s dressed in all sorts of crazy colors with glasses that match her outfit. And before he can introduce her, she says, “I’m Penelope Garcia, technology extraordinaire. I keep them out of trouble.”

“And we love you for it,” Derek adds.

“And this is Dave,” Aaron finishes.

“It is very nice to finally meet you,” Dave says, and actually shakes your hand. “Do you know how to make carbonara?”

“Yes, actually,” you say, earning a surprised look from Aaron. “I went through a phase when I was younger, wanting to make anything and everything that sounded good, so I’ve made this a few times. My mom loves it.”

Dave loves the sound of that. “Would you like to help me?”

You practically light up inside and out. “Seriously? I’d love to!”

“Oh, here we go,” Derek groans. “He’s roped her in.”

You ignore him, slipping away from Aaron to grab the other apron off the hook by the entrance to the kitchen. You slide your head through the loop and tie it at the back in a matter of seconds, too excited to contain it.

“I almost went to culinary school, you know,” you say to no one in particular, but Aaron is listening, and so is Dave.

“Why didn’t you?” Aaron asks.

You shrug. “Didn’t seem practical.” Which isn’t the real answer at all. The real answer is you got your heart broken and needed to do a complete 180 in life, so you did. Culinary school was out. Getting a doctorate was in. You turn on the water in the sink and begin washing your hands. “What do you need me to do?”

For the next hour, you help Dave make the carbonara, occasionally answering any questions Aaron’s friends have for you.

Aaron pours you a glass of wine and sits at the counter, watching you cook. You look more at peace than he’s seen you since a few days ago when he first bumped into you again.

You catch him looking at you more than a handful of times. It feels good. Spending the evening with his friends, his team, with him. You’ve missed spending time with him more than anything else.

Dave serves up the carbonara, telling you to sit down since you helped so much already. You don’t make him ask twice.

+++

After dinner, everyone moves into the living room, scattering on the various couches and chairs. Reid has finished reading War and Peace, so the book sits discarded on one of the coffee tables.

You take the spot on the couch next to Aaron, careful not to spill your wine. Penelope sits on the other side of you, with Derek on her other side, which all but forces you to move closer to Aaron, and something about the look on Penelope’s face tells you it was done on purpose.

You’re not exactly complaining, though. With a full stomach and a fresh glass of wine, Aaron’s presence is even warmer than before. You pay no mind when he shifts his left arm, stretching it over the back of the couch and allowing you to scoot closer, your legs pressed against each other’s.

The conversation continues, and somehow the subject of relationships is brought up.

“Yeah, why was I the only one asked to bring someone?” Aaron asks. “I’d like to see all of you find a last minute date.”

Another warm rush goes through your body at the word date. This is a date. Alright then.

“I think you did just fine,” Dave says, nodding to you. “Don’t you?”

You shrug, not sure of what to make of it. “I’m having fun, so I guess so.”

“See?” Dave gives Aaron a look. “You did fine.”

Aaron gives his friend a tired glare. “Only because she happened to be back from getting her degrees. Otherwise, I would’ve been stuck.”

“Nah, man, you could’ve called Beth.”

You feel Aaron tense next to you, but you aren’t sure if he tensed up or if you did. Maybe both. Probably both. You weren’t aware there was someone else.

“Who’s Beth?” You ask as casually as possible, ignoring the heated glares Penelope, JJ, and Emily alike are sending Derek. Seriously, Derek would be dead three times over right now if looks could be deadly.

Aaron shrugs before answering you. “Her and I dated briefly last year.”

You nod slowly, trying not to seem hurt or upset or anything by this because it’s ridiculous of you to be fighting back tears, but you can’t help it.

It’s high school, goddamnit, it’s fucking high school all over again.

The topic of conversation shifts thanks to Reid being the endless supplier of random facts. One question about Russian from Emily and he’s taking over, washing the awkwardness away in two languages.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work as well for you as it does for everyone else.

You set your wine glass down on the table and tell Penelope you’re going to use the bathroom. You have no clue where it is, but she doesn’t know that.

Aaron does. And Aaron hears the tone of voice you use.

He waits until you’re down the hall before he stands to follow you, foregoing any explanation to his friends. They already know what he’s doing.

Aaron’s suspicions are correct when he hears the front door close and sees your coat no longer hanging next to his on the hook by the door. He grabs his and only gets one arm through a sleeve before he’s opening the door, eyes searching the premises for you.

Thankfully, he finds you after two seconds, and his racing heart slows a little. You’re standing by the reindeer lights on Dave’s front lawn. Your coat is only hanging on your shoulders, something you’ve always done since high school when you were upset.

“It feels more like a blanket,” you had told him one day. “Blankets are more comforting than jackets.”

He doesn’t see the difference, but you do, and that was enough for him.

He has both arms through the sleeves by the time he’s next to you. He gently touches your arm to get your attention, adding a soft, “Hey,” for good measure.

You turn your head at the sound, having already known he was coming because you heard the front door open. In the back of your mind, you had wanted him to follow you out here, but now that he’s done it, you aren’t so sure this is what you wanted.

You wanted to ignore the feeling. Get it to disappear on its own. Survive the night, then never talk to him again. You were heartbroken, but it was better when you weren’t speaking to him. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron says softly. “Beth and I haven’t spoken since our last date a year ago. It was only three dates. We weren’t serious at all.” He pauses. “I have no idea why Derek said that. He doesn’t think before he speaks sometimes.”

You nod, not having it in you to laugh at Aaron’s small jab, even though he is entirely correct. Derek is a quick thinker with a sharp wit, but you can see how it might backfire sometimes. Like tonight.

You believe Aaron, you really do. But it’s so hard. “Did you love her?”

Aaron is stunned for a moment, but says, “No. I don’t think I did.”

“Okay.” You shake your head, looking down at the grass. “I’m just trying to figure out why Derek would’ve brought her up if...if you guys dated so briefly.”

Aaron sighs. “I don’t know.”

“And is this a date?” You blurt, finally finding the courage to get that one out. “Because if it is, I…I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

You shake your head again, trying to find the right words, but they always seem out of reach. “Just...tell me this won’t be like high school.”

This time Aaron is too stunned to form a real answer. “What?”

“Please,” you sound like you’re about to cry and you feel so pathetic that you wish you had never agreed to come tonight. But you’re here anyway. “I was in love with you then, and I’m still in love with you now, but I can’t do that again. So if this is a just friends thing and always will be, I need you to tell me before I hurt myself all over again.”

Aaron can’t believe his ears. He swears he heard you wrong. He must have. “You were in love with me in high school, too?”

“Yes-- Wait, too? What do you mean too?” Now you’re looking at him, eyes wide in confusion, shock, every emotion possible. “Too?”

“I was in love with you, Y/N,” he chuckles, reaching for your hands. “I thought you just saw me as an older brother. That’s why I never...said anything.”

“What?” You breathe, letting him thread his fingers through yours. “Are you serious? You better not be pulling my leg, Hotchner. Don’t do that to me.” You tug on his hands for emphasis, giving him a stern look.

“I’m not joking,” he says, taking a step closer. “I wouldn’t joke about this.”

“Oh my god,” you say, disbelief a powerful thief of words. “I can’t believe… So you went after Haley because…”

“Because I heard from one of her friends that she had a crush on me,” he admits. “I did love her, but not as much as I loved you. Never as much as I loved you.”

You don’t know what else to do or say. He looks so beautiful in this light that it hurts, and now he’s saying words you never thought you’d ever hear.

“Do you forgive me?” He asks. “For breaking your heart?”

“Only if you forgive me for breaking yours,” you whisper.

He shakes his head. “I broke my own. I should’ve told you how I felt.” He pauses. “I even talked to you about Haley all the time. Is that why you didn’t say goodbye to me?”

You nod. “It sounds so stupid now, but I was so hurt.”

“I’m an idiot,” he laughs. “I’m the dumbest fool to ever walk the Earth.”

“We both are,” you correct him, taking a step closer. It’s cold out here, but he’s warm. He’s always been so warm. Like home.

And you-- you’ve always been who Aaron thinks of when he thinks about being happy. It’s always been you. A moment like this, and a thousand others. He wants them all. And to think, you do too.

His lips meet yours in a long-awaited kiss, cold noses bumping against one another, his warm hands holding your face, your chilled fingers finding their home on his neck, stealing his warmth.

From the window, the team watches, and Emily exchanges money with Derek.

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starryeyes-darkestnights · 3 years

Text

Wicked Game

Part 4 of We Dance Together Now

An O’Knutzy au where Leo and Logan are still playing for the Lions, but Finn is a musician/grad student they met by chance on a roadie to Montreal.

Here are the first few parts!

Part 1 - Jingle Bell Rock

Part 2 - This City

Part 3 - Shut Up and Drive

I also stuck this up on AO3, my username there is the same :)

I struggled a LOT with this chapter. I’m still not sure it’s done what I wanted it to do, but I hope it works. And I hope you like it :)

I’m suuuuuper excited for the next one, I’ve had it half-written since I started this fic!

These beautiful characters and their world belong to the incredible @lumosinlove

The songs referenced are My Shot, from Hamilton, and Wicked Game, which has several remixes that could work here, but I was listening to the Yola Recoba version, personally.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Leo

“Thanks for helping today, Tremz.” Leo leaned against the entry wall and watched Logan slip on his shoes.

“No problem,” Logan looked up at him, his eyes sparkling mischievously, “You needed someone big and strong to carry your boxes up the stairs. Who am I to leave a damsel in distress?” He stood and flexed his biceps.

Leo rolled his eyes and shoved Logan toward the door. He could hear Finn laughing behind him. “Get out.”

Logan looked over his shoulder and grinned. “Your wish is my command, princess.” Leo moved to shove him again, but Logan snatched up his bag and ducked out the door before he could reach him. “You love me!” he yelled as he jogged down the hall. Leo just shook his head at the older boy’s antics and turned the lock behind him before flopping down on the couch with a tired groan.

The three of them had just finished setting up his new room. In Finn’s apartment. Where he lived now. With Finn. He was still wrapping his head around it. It was crazy to think he didn’t have to pack up his stuff and move somewhere else again next week; that he had blankets that hadn’t been slept on by a hundred people before him. Finn was a godsend of a human being.

He was also a walking tornado of a human being, and Leo’s current state of exhaustion was a result of today being a shining example of both of those traits.

Since he’d been living in hotels all year Leo didn’t own any furniture of his own, which meant he had spent his Friday morning going from store to store buying what he needed. Finn had volunteered to drive, and Logan had tagged along too. The two of them had also very kindly volunteered to spend their afternoon helping him build everything. It was very, very nice of them, and Leo had been incredibly grateful for their company, and for their help… at least until they actually started putting things together. It had been funny at first, watching Logan and Finn jump headlong in to building things without taking the time to read the instructions. But the resultant failures had meant that Leo had to unbuild everything they touched, actually read the instructions, and then give them explicit directions on how to put it back together properly. Instead of the few hours Leo had expected to spend on it, the whole thing had taken them until the late evening, and now Leo was exhausted and ready to relax.

He heard Finn wander into the living room after him, and his smiling face appeared over the back of the couch above him. “What’s up, Marigold?”

Leo closed his eyes, trying not to roll them as he let out an exasperated chuckle. “Finn. That is STILL a terrible nickname.”

“It is not.”

“Yes it is. ‘What’s up marigold’ makes no sense. ‘What’s up buttercup’ works because it rhymes.” He opened his eyes back up to emphasize his point. “Marigold does not rhyme. At all.”

Finn just shrugged, pushing himself back up to walk around the couch. “You should have thought of that before you accepted it in the first place.”

“I didn’t accept it! I just gave up trying to argue with you two and- ugh. Never mind.”

“That’s what I thought.” Finn grinned. “Plus, I googled marigolds after that night because I didn’t actually know what they were, and the name suits you.”

“What?” Leo looked at him, curious. “Why?”

Finn’s expression faltered for a second as he lifted Leo’s feet to sit on the other end of the couch. He put them back down in his lap, making Leo’s heart skip a beat. When he spoke again, his voice was a little softer. “Your hair shines like them, in the sun. Golden.”

Leo had to work to keep his face neutral. That was… sweet. And unexpected. Finn was always doing things he didn’t expect.

Before he could think of a response, Finn’s cocky grin was back in place. “Also, calling you marigold makes you grumpy, which, like, never happens, so I’m never giving it up.”

Leo didn’t even try to hide it this time as he rolled his eyes affectionately, lifting his legs and giving Finn a gentle kick with his socked feet. “Whatever,” he laughed. “I’m going to shower. Have you seen that duffel bag Logan brought in? It has all my comfortable clothes.”

Finn just pointed wordlessly to entryway where he and Logan had dumped a few of Leo’s bags, abandoning unpacking them in favour of wreaking utter havoc trying to build his bedroom furniture.

Leo wandered over and grabbed the Lions duffel off the floor, pausing as he lifted it. He didn’t’ remember it being this empty… he unzipped it, suspicious, and sure enough, he found Logan’s training gear inside.

He groaned. “Damn it.”

Finn looked over to him. “What’s wrong?”

“Logan took my bag. This is his stuff.”

“Oh. Shit.” He looked from the bag up to Leo, and then popped up from the couch. “No worries, I have a solution!” he called, jogging toward his bedroom.

Leo, curious yet again, gently put Logan’s bag back down and started to follow. As he reached the corner, Finn popped back out of his room with a pile of clothes in his hands, almost crashing into him as he gave a little squeak.

“Ahh! Oh my god, why are you right there!? You scared the shit out of me. Learn to make noise when you walk.”

Leo chuckled at that, a memory of Logan saying that exact phrase to him the first night they watched Finn play running through his mind. “You and Logan are scarily similar sometimes, you know that?”

“What?” A confused look crossed Finn’s face.

Leo just smiled, and Finn shook his head.

“You know what, never mind. I don’t think I want to know. Here.” He passed Leo a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. “You can sleep in these tonight and we’ll get your stuff from Logan tomorrow. They’re both pretty big on me so I’m hoping they’ll fit you properly.”

Leo, taken aback by the gesture, accepted the pile with a surprised but grateful smile. “Oh. Thank you, Finn. You didn’t have to do that.”

Finn shrugged, his wide brown eyes twinkling. “I know where you live. I’ll get them back.”

---

But as Leo pulled the shirt on after his shower, he decided that Finn was not, in fact, getting it back. It was soft. And it smelled like Finn. He breathed in deeply. It was silly, he knew, to cling to this little bit of him- to pretend it was Finn, instead of his clothes, that he was allowed to have. But he was doing it anyway. He could let himself have this little thing. He turned to look in the mirror and let out a surprised snort. “Of course.” He chuckled to himself.

He padded out to the living room, where Fin was still lying on the couch, a book in his hand.

“I thought you were joking about loving the Eagles.” He teased, his mouth quirking up on one side.

Finn sat up and looked over at him, a strange look crossing his face as he took in Leo’s appearance. It was gone before Leo could read into it, replaced with a dramatic showing of mock outrage.

“One does not joke about the Eagles, Leo!” He gestured down at the band logo stretched across Leo’s chest. “That logo is a badge of honour. Wear it with pride.”

Leo just shook his head, amused. “Aye, aye, captain.” He saluted Finn. “Thanks again. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Finn waved goodnight and Leo slipped back into his room, turning off the lights and smiling up at the city lights flickering across the ceiling. His ceiling, now. He chewed on his lip for a second, thinking, before getting back out of bed and walking softly to the living room.

Finn looked up at him when he entered, and whatever Leo had been about to say immediately caught in his throat. The warm lamplight was sending soft shadows across Finn’s features, making his freckles glow against the pale of his skin. He was curled into the corner of the couch, book in his hands and a blanket wrapped around him, and Leo wanted nothing more in that moment than to be there too, cuddled up beside this beautiful boy. His heart pulled in his chest.

He realized he was staring when Finn spoke up and broke the spell. “What’s up, Leo?” his smile was soft, gentle. “Do you need something? Can I get you anything?”

Leo straightened up at that, shaking his head. “No, no. I’m good. Thank you. And I’m sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you, and I won’t keep you, but I just wanted to say thank you. For having me here. You didn’t have to offer up your space, and I appreciate it. It really means a lot.”

Finn closed his book and leaned forward; his expression sincere as he locked eyes with Leo. “I’m just glad you’re happy. You deserve to have a home. I wouldn’t want you to be anywhere else.”

And when Leo went back to his room that night, he fell asleep quickly, breathing in the scent of Finn and, for the first time since he came to this city, finally feeling at home.

---

Finn

The next few months passed by quickly for Finn, everything blurring together in an exhausting but happy mess of work and play. He had thought it would be more of a learning curve, sharing his space with Leo after living alone for the past 4 years- and some days it was a bit weird, remembering that there was another person around and he couldn’t just play guitar at 2am, or work through melodies in the shower when Leo was sleeping- but he wouldn’t change it back for anything.

He’d always known he was insanely lucky to live in the apartment he did (his parents had bought it as an investment property when he first moved to Gryffindor- perks of their jobs in real estate). Very few college students had the privilege of even a single spare room, let alone two, and not worrying about needing roommates to pay rent had saved him from needing to share the space with strangers. But it had been lonely.

Now, when he was finished his long day on campus studying, or working on his music, he actually looked forward to going home- even if it was only to meet up with Leo and leave again. After that first celebration he had gone to with Leo and Logan, it had become routine for them to invite him to join them for any dinners or parties that weren’t team-exclusive. He went to every one that he could and had ended up making some pretty good friends in that crowd. In particular, him and Kasey’s girlfriend Natalie had struck up a fun friendship. She was also a musician, and the two of them had gotten together several times over the past few months just to play.

The boys had also asked him to let them know his gig schedule, and they had been there for every single show they weren’t working during. Finn liked having them there, knowing he would have their company as soon as he got off stage. They always had a drink waiting for him, and they usually found somewhere to go dance for the rest of the evening. Logan was always making fun of how Leo used to hate going out, but they danced together often now, and it was one of Finn’s favourite things.

Any nights they didn’t spend working, or with the team, or at one of Finns gigs, they usually spent together just the three of them, squeezed into a booth at Sid’s or lounging around the living room at Finn and Leo’s, playing video games and watching movies. Him and Leo had made the excellent discovery that Pixar movies almost always made Logan cry, though Logan denied it exceptionally violently every time they called him out. It was worth a pillow to the face to be able to tease him though.

Logan stayed over most of those evenings, in the spare room Finn had started thinking of as his. They’d built another bed for him and everything after Finn had woken up the first night he stayed over and seen how cramped he was on the couch. It wasn’t built for hockey players to sleep on and he didn’t like the idea of Logan being uncomfortable. He wanted everyone to feel at home in his place.

Some days it was just Finn and Leo at home, while Logan spent time with the Dumais family. Finn liked those days too. It was nice, hanging out with Leo one on one. The two of them often used the time to do chores, and he had been pleased to find out that they were much more enjoyable with Leo’s company. Grocery shopping with Leo was one of his favourites, riding the cart like a scooter up and down the aisles while Leo picked out everything they needed for dinner, and grabbing all the snacks that he knew Logan liked, so they could always be there when he came by. And he particularly enjoyed coming home and putting things away while Leo cooked, both of them singing along to the radio as the apartment filled with the smells of Leo’s southern recipes.

On quiet nights, he liked wandering into Leo’s room for company, the two of them laying next to each other on Leo’s giant bed and talking about books. One of the first nights he had done that, he had noticed his own t-shirt, the one he had lent Leo his first night, and that had curiously gone missing shortly after, hanging up on Leo’s closet door. Leo had been flustered, apologizing for snagging it from Finn’s clean laundry, and explaining that it was ‘just really comfortable’. Finn had tried very hard to hide the mini heart attack he was sure he was having at the idea of Leo choosing to wear his clothes, and he must have done an alright job of it because Leo continued to steal it often enough that it had just become another routine thing between them. Finn pretended to make fun of Leo for it, but he really liked it. He had taken to folding it and dropping it into Leo’s laundry basket when he wasn’t looking.

The addition of Leo’s warm presence, and of Logan’s fiery, mischievous energy, had made his big, cold apartment feel like home. There was always something happening, and it was never boring- sometimes to an extreme degree when Logan was around. Finn still had scars on his hand from Leo’s 19th birthday in February, when he had let Logan convince him that baking a cake wouldn’t be as difficult as it sounded (‘people do it all the time Finn, how hard can it possibly be?’). He had been wrong, as they discovered when he flipped what should have been a cooked cake upside down over the counter, and it turned out to be just a pan full of very hot batter that went all over Finn’s hands. It had stuck to him like very, very hot glue and the two of them had gone into full panic mode. Luckily, Leo had chosen that moment to come home from lunch with Remus, and he got everything under control. He had been exasperated, and quite concerned, but Finn liked to think he had appreciated their effort. Plus, Logan had felt guilty about it for weeks afterward, which Finn had initially felt bad about but then had started to take advantage of by (very dramatically) requesting him to do more and more ridiculous favours. Logan had stopped feeling guilty somewhere in between the request to build him an entire pillow fort (so he could heal in utmost comfort), and the request to do an interpretive dance to Ice, Ice, Baby (so he could feel like his burned hands were encased in ice).

When they were out of town for games, Finn missed having them around. Everything felt too… empty. But they were constantly in touch via their group chat, Leo sending videos of the cities they explored after games, and Logan sending pictures of Leo looking affectionately annoyed at Logan for dragging him out of the hotel to go and do said exploring. Those videos often included appearances from other Lions, usually making terrible 3 Musketeers jokes about them. On one memorable occasion, James had popped in to compare them to SpongeBob, Patrick, and Squidward. That one had positively delighted Finn, not least because Logan’s reaction to realizing he was the Squidward in that analogy had been gold. James had had to run.

Finn didn’t blame them for joking about it. He knew it was a bit strange, the way that they had become so inseparable, so fast. But he didn’t mind. When he looked at them in those videos—the wild in Logan’s eyes, the calm in Leo’s— he was reminded of how they pulled out the best of both those sides of his own personality. He never felt more like himself than he did with them. *

---

Logan

One evening at the end of April, Logan sat sandwiched between Leo and Finn on their living room couch, a steering wheel in his hands. He was deeply focused on steering his car around a particularly dastardly curve when Finn jumped up, knocking Logan’s elbow and sending his character careening off a cliff as he screeched at the TV. “Cheating!! Leo! You’re cheating! Logan! He’s cheating!”

Logan, disgruntled now as he watched himself drop down to last place, just glared up at him. “You knocked me off a cliff. Don’t look at me for sympathy right now.”

Leo just continued playing calmly. “It’s not cheating Finn. I threw a banana at you. If you don’t want to get hit with bananas, don’t drive so close to me.”

“This is insane. Nobody is supposed to be this good at Mario Kart. It’s MARIO KART!” Finn flopped dramatically back down into his spot, groaning. “How have you won every single race?”

“I’m a man of many talents, Finn.”

“This is bullshit.”

Logan snorted, dropping his controller as he crossed the finish line in last place for the 4th time that night. “Says the guy who wins every single round of Halo.”

“Well, if you would stop and think before just picking the biggest bombs and sending your army running headfirst into every battle, maybe you too could win a strategy game.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“You are weirdly good at Halo, Finn.” Leo tossed out. “It’s kind of creepy watching the wheels turn in your head while you play.”

Logan watched, amused, as Finn gasped and glared at Leo in mock offense. “Well then. When the aliens finally invade here and you guys need a team leader to get you through the hordes and into a safe haven, you can find your own general. I’ll be over there helping people who DON’T call me creepy.”

It was Logan’s turn to be offended. “Hey! I didn’t call you creepy.”

Finn considered him for a moment. “Hmm. That’s true.”

He wrapped an arm around Logan’s neck and stuck his tongue out at Leo. “I’ll be over here keeping LOGAN alive, while you get your brains eaten.”

Logan tried to fight back the blush he could feel creeping up his cheeks as Finn’s arm pulled him in. Finn, Logan had discovered, was a very affectionate person, and while his comfort in sharing his personal space had grown on Logan and Leo as well—they were constantly in contact as they shoved together onto the couch—it still made Logan’s pulse pick up every time he felt them close to him.

Leo snorted out a laugh at Finn’s threat as he put down his controller. “I’ll take my chances.” he replied as he stood and stretched, looking out the window at the setting sun. “It’s getting late. Anybody hungry?”

Logan’s stomach actually grumbled out loud at the mention of food.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Leo laughed as he headed out of the living room.

Logan, somewhat reluctantly, pulled himself out of Finn’s hold and followed Leo into the kitchen, plunking himself down on one of the island barstools as Leo started pulling things out of the fridge. Finn disappeared into his room and came back to sit next to Logan a few seconds later, a book in his hand.

“You want to read?” He looked at Logan questioningly.

Logan just nodded at him as he spun around on his stool, slowly relaxing into his seat as the sound of Finn’s voice took over the kitchen, mingling with the sounds of Leo quietly chopping vegetables at the counter next to them.

A few weeks ago, when Leo and Finn were trying to pull him into an argument about book to movie adaptations, Logan had accidentally let it slip that he had never read The Hobbit. The two of them had been borderline offended, which Logan found hilarious, but it had then led to them asking him about other books, and Logan had been forced to admit that not only had he never read The Hobbit, but he had never read any book for fun.

It wasn’t something he liked to talk about, because he always worried it would make him look stupid, but he hated reading. Having to keep his focus on the page, keeping his hands still as they held the book… he just couldn’t handle it. When Leo and Finn had picked up on the fact that it was a sensitive topic, they had dropped it without asking him any more questions, which he had been grateful for. But the two of them still wanted to show him that stories could be fun outside of movie form, and when it became clear that there was no way in hell Logan was picking up a book himself, Finn had come up with a compromise: he would read a book to him. Logan hadn’t been convinced, but he appreciated the thought and figured he could just tune him out if he got bored, so he agreed.

So Finn had read the first chapter of The Hobbit to him and Leo while Leo cooked that night, and, to his surprise, Logan had found himself completely absorbed. It was kind of like listening to a podcast, but with Finn’s intoxicating voice playing all the parts.

It had become a routine after that—Finn reading to them as Leo cooked, and Leo reading to Finn and Logan as they cleaned up after. They always waited for him to read the next part, and it was one of his favourite parts of being at their apartment now. The combination of the sound of Finn’s voice and the smell of Leo’s cooking, made him feel safe.

That evening, Logan was the first to finish eating, and he leaned his chair back away from the table with a satisfied sigh, reaching over to ruffle Leo’s hair from where he was sitting next to him. “Fuck, Knutty, that was amazing. As always.”

Leo smiled back at him, blonde curls now falling over his eyes in a way that was absolutely not adorable. “Thanks, Tremz. I’m glad you guys liked it.”

Finn made a noise at that. “Liked it? Leo, I have genuinely never eaten better in my entire life than I have since you moved in here.”

Well. That provided Logan an excellent segue into his mission for the evening. He let his chair fall back down and folded his hands on the table in front of him. “If that is true, Finn, then I think that you should do something to pay him back.”

Finn looked up from his plate with a mouth full of pasta, brown eyes narrowing suspiciously as he looked between Logan and an amused looking Leo, who had immediately caught on to what Logan was doing. “Oh?”

“Yes. We have a game next Friday, and you’re invited to come. I think that should suffice as payment.”

“Oohh.” Finn plastered on a very fake smile. “That sounds very… interesting. Let me check my schedule and see what I have going on.”

Logan rolled his eyes at Finn’s feigned interest. He had turned down their offers to come to games repeatedly since they had met.

“We have your schedule, idiote. We know you don’t have a show OR an exam. And—” Logan decided to move to his next tactic: guilt, “—you have to come this time. It’s a deciding game for the play-offs. If we lose, you won’t be able to watch us play again until next season.”

“I see.” Finn didn’t look convinced.

“Finn!” Logan tossed his balled-up napkin at him, making him laugh. “You are possibly the only person in this city who would turn down offers to come watch NHL games for free. From the box! MULTIPLE TIMES!”

“I cannot possibly be the only person in this entire city who doesn’t follow hockey.”

When neither Leo nor Logan bothered to respond to that, just continuing to look at him, Finn’s grin fell. He looked uncertain now, and his face turned serious as he looked each of them in the eye. “But… you guys know I support you, right? I follow all your scores and your… game… time, point, things, or whatever online. I even bought a hoodie!”

That was true and it had almost killed Logan the first time he had seen Finn in Lion’s colours. It still made his heart beat faster every time he thought of it. Which wasn’t helping him at the present moment.

Finn sighed. “I just think it’s a waste of a ticket for me to go when I have no idea what is happening. I don’t want to embarrass you guys”

Leo interjected then, pointing his fork at Finn. “First of all, you are never embarrassing. Well, usually not – “

“Fair.” Finn admitted.

Leo shot him a look. “—and not about this, for sure. And second, it’s not a waste of a ticket. We all get to invite our family and friends and stuff this game, and neither Logan’s family nor mine are able to make it. And all of our other friends are either on the team or related to them. So, if you don’t use the ticket, nobody will. Plus,” he set his fork down, his voice gentle, “we want you to come.”

Finn’s face softened, and Logan decided now was time to pull out his Hail Mary. “Also,” he waited until Finn looked over to him, “Natalie’s going to be there. And she already asked us if you were going to come this time.”

He bit back a triumphant smirk as Finn perked up at that. He knew they had him now. Finn and Natalie had hit it off really well the moment they met. So well in fact, that he had almost been jealous. But he wasn’t jealous. Because he had nothing to be jealous of. Finn was just a friend. A friend who was currently living rent-free in his mind wearing that goddamn Lions hoodie, but a friend nonetheless.

Finn pushed his empty plate to the middle of the table. “Well.” His eyes sparkled as he folded his arms and looked between them. “You should have led with that.”

---

Finn

One week later, Finn stood against the glass in the team box, cursing himself for agreeing to come to this game. He had never been more stressed in his life, every muscle in his body tense as he watched the puck bounce from player to player in front of Leo’s net. He had a brand-new respect for Leo’s unflappable demeanour. There was no way he could handle being the last stop between the other team and a goal- he was almost having a nervous breakdown just watching. But Leo was in his element: calm, controlled, moving fluidly around his net and mirroring the puck effortlessly. Finn had never seen someone so focused, so intent. When the other team finally took their shot and Leo snatched it out of the air, Finn let out a relieved breath. His heart was going a million miles a minute, just like it had been for the last hour that the game had been tied 1-1. “Oh my god,” he murmured, dropping his face into his hands. “This is so stressful. How do you guys watch this all the time?”

Natalie laughed next to him. “It can be pretty crazy.”

“You look perfectly relaxed.” Finn replied grumpily. It was true. She was much calmer than he was.

“I’m not as calm on the inside. But I have faith in these guys. I know they can win this.” She paused for a second. “It also helps that Kase is benched for this game with his leg. I’m a wreck when he’s in net during important games. Thank God for Leo Knut.”

“Thank God for Leo Knut?” Finn muttered reproachfully in response. His attention was pulled back to the ice as the puck was dropped again, still in their end. “Thank God for Leo Knut my ass, Leo Knut is the reason I might be seeing God soon. I’m going to have a fucking heart attACK! AH!” He shrieked the end of his sentence as one of the Ravenclaw players crashed into Leo, knocking him backwards into a goal post in a way that looked dangerous. His stomach dropped as Leo went down. He shot a panicked look at Natalie. “What the fuck! That can’t be allowed! Is that allowed?!?” He didn’t wait for an answer before looking up at the giant screens above the ice, currently zoomed in on Leo’s determinedly blank face as he slowly pulled his knees back underneath him. He was definitely going to give him a heart attack.

“No.” Natalie looked unhappy. “No, it’s not allowed. But he’s ok, Finn.”

He’s ok. Finn let out a shaky breath. He looked back down to the ice and was watching Leo stand up and reach for a water bottle when, all of a sudden, the crowd started to yell. Confused, he looked back up at the screens. Instead of Leo, there was now a close-up view of Logan, currently with one fist wrapped around the jersey of the player who had slammed into Leo, the other throwing punches.

Finn’s jaw dropped, his heart jumping up to meet it. Logan’s face was fierce. Angry. That energy that always seemed to be coiled around him, simmering just below the surface, was out in full force. His restraints were gone, and holy shit it was beautiful. Seeing those impossibly green eyes flashing dark with passion… it was lighting something on fire inside of Finn.

The other player was half a foot taller than Logan, but Lo had him down on the ice in seconds, spitting angry words in his face as the referees pulled him away. Finn watched Logan skate to the penalty box, swallowing hard as he took in the way his chest was heaving under his jersey. Holy. Fuck.

He felt heat creeping up his neck, and knew his face was going to turn bright red and give him away if he didn’t distract himself immediately. So he forced his attention back down to where the rest of the team was checking on Leo.

Leo. Logan had unleashed in defense of Leo.

Finn felt the now-familiar twist in his chest that sometimes accompanied seeing the two of them together. The feeling that there was something more between them than they were willing to admit.

Thankfully, Natalie mistook the look on his face for concern, and put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “It’s fine Finn, Logan fights all the time. He’s not hurt, he’ll be back on the ice in time to play the last three minutes. And Leo’s already ready to keep playing”

Finn just groaned and dropped his face into his hands. “I am never watching another hockey game again.”

It was supposed to be a joke, but five minutes later Finn watched Logan jump out of the penalty box and take off across the ice, dancing between the other players as he stole the puck and shot toward the net with a searing purpose. And when the goal alarm went off and the entire arena jumped to their feet to celebrate- when Logan was tackled by his teammates, and Leo was skating celebratory circles around his net, and Finn could see the smiles radiating off both of them from where he stood- Finn realized that if he ever wanted to be able to keep his friendships with these boys, it had to be true. Because if he ever watched them play another hockey game again, he would fall in love.

---

“O’Hara, think fast!”

Finn barely had time to register the beer being thrown his way before Leo reached out and snatched it out of the air in front of his chest. “Bliz, how many times do we have to tell you to not throw solid objects at people. Not everybody has your reflexes.”

But Kasey wasn’t listening, already turned around to head back into the living room of Sirius’ house, where they had all convened to celebrate their win. Finn had been grateful for the location- he didn’t think he could handle watching Leo and Logan getting hit on at a club all night tonight. He was still on edge.

Leo rolled his eyes at Kasey’s retreating back and handed the drink to Finn. “I’d wait a second to open that. Sorry, he does this all the time. We’ve had more than one black eye on the team from a drunken Kasey drink bomb.”

Finn chuckled. “No worries. Thanks for the save.”

Leo brightened adorably. “It’s my job!”

“And you are absolutely INCREDIBLE at it my friend!” A pair of arms wrapped around Leo’s neck from behind and a slightly buzzed and very excited James appeared over his shoulder. “MVP of the game, my man! You killed it! We’re going to the play-offs, baby!”

He whooped as he ruffled Leo’s golden hair, still slightly damp from his post-game shower. Leo’s cheeks flushed a deep red as he accepted James’ fist bump. “I just played. Thank you though.”

“And he’s humble too! How are you still single dude? Someone should have scooped you up ages ago.”

Leo’s cheeks somehow turned even deeper red as he shot a quick look up at Finn, and Finn heard Lily’s amused voice as she slid in from behind them, wrapping an arm around James’ waist and pulling him off of Leo. “Leave the poor guy alone James. He just wants to celebrate in peace.”

Leo smiled gratefully at Lily, looking relieved when Kasey and Natalie returned to the kitchen, Talker in tow. Leo jumped into their conversation as the group of them settled in around the room, talking and laughing above the music playing from the built-in speakers. Finn held back for a moment, taking the opportunity to scan the living room from where him and Leo were leaning against the kitchen island. He caught a glimpse of familiar dark curls under a snapback, and Logan’s eyes met his from across the room. Logan grinned, excusing himself from a conversation with Remus and heading towards them.

“Hey,” Logan’s breath was warm on Finn’s cheek as he leaned in to be heard over the voices in the room. “How did you like the game?”

Finn fought to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. He was still reeling from his decidedly unwelcome epiphany earlier that evening, and it was going to be a long night if he couldn’t get a handle on himself soon. He cleared his throat, looking straight ahead instead of turning to meet Logan’s gaze. “It was the most stressful few hours of my entire life. I’m never doing it again.” He winced at the way his voice cracked. Traitorous voice box. “And for the record, you are NOT a ‘perfectly reasonable player’.”

Logan tilted his head back and laughed openly at that. Finn let himself look then. Despite everything, it was nice to see him so relaxed and happy.

“Well, I’m glad you at least came to this one. Even if you judge me.”

He leaned back next to Finn, shoulders brushing, and Finn watched as he scanned the room. A moment later, a glint appeared in shorter boy’s eye, his smile turning mischievous. Finn turned to follow his gaze, looking for what had prompted the change. He caught sight of James, still in his game jersey, and Lily, laughingly trying her best to get him to take it off.

He heard Logan call out to them. “Hey Pots! Did you hear your jerseys are only the third most popular on the Lion’s shop now?”

James froze, turning to them with his eyes wide. “What?”

He rounded on Logan. “Who told you that? Who beat me?” His expression turned to outrage. “Who could possibly have beaten me?!”

Finn held back a laugh at James reaction, letting out a loud cough instead. One that sounded very suspiciously like the word ‘bullshit’. He heard Leo do the exact same beside him and turned to catch his eye with a grin and a high-five. The two of them had made a game over the past few months of seeing who could catch Logan the fastest when he started his game of poking the bear- something that was hilarious to them and endlessly irritating to Logan.

Right on cue, Logan let out an exasperated noise. “Guys! You are no fun! Stop doing that!”

James’ head twisted back and forth between Logan and Finn as he pieced it together. “Wait… what??” He gasped at Logan, looking betrayed. “Tremz! Did you make that up? How could you! You almost gave me a heart attack on this glorious evening!”

Logan shot a mock glare at Leo and Finn, but his face cracked into a grin when he turned back to James. “You should have seen your face.”

James looked like he was about to respond, but at just that moment, a familiar beat started to play over the speakers. Someone in the living room cheered and turned up the volume, and James whooped, throwing his hands in the air. Finn smirked as he followed suit, pushing away from the counter to join him in the middle of the room.

---

Logan

Logan frowned when Finn stepped away from him- he liked feeling his warmth against his side. He watched as Finn moved after James, turning to look back at Logan and grinning as he sang along to the lyrics of the song now playing loudly through the house. Logan loved Finn’s singing voice. He smiled back and was about to go join him when something weird caught his attention, making him do a double take.

It wasn’t unusual for Finn to jump into the middle of a room to give a performance of a song. He did it all the time. At home, at the club, at parties. It was quintessential Finn behaviour.

But now, the entire rest of the room was joining him. Every single one of his friends had abandoned their conversations to chant along with the opening lyrics of this song Logan had never heard before. Logan’s brow furrowed in confusion as he spun around to look behind him. The living room was the same, everyone starting to move away from the walls and stand from the couches. Only Leo had stayed where he was, a few feet away from Logan.

“What the hell?” He muttered.

He turned back around to question Finn, only to find him no longer looking his way. Instead, he was now face to face with Talker in the middle of the room, the two of them rapping dramatically to one another. Logan lifted an eyebrow, letting out a short, surprised laugh as he watched the two of them.

“I’ma get a scholarship to King’s College,

I probably shouldn’t brag,

But dag, I amaze and astonish”

The rest of the room was still singing along. It was beyond weird. “What. The fuck. Is happening?” Logan asked nobody in particular.

The rhythm of the song slowed a bit, and Finn turned back toward Leo and Logan, sliding smoothly over in front of them. His brown eyes sparkled as his gaze locked with Logan’s, singing directly to him.

“I’m a diamond in the rough, a shiny piece of coal

Tryin’ to reach my goal, my power of speech, unimpeachable”

Logan leaned closer to Leo, his only ally in this insanity, but Finn had pointed dramatically to the younger boy and Leo laughed, stepping away from the counter and picking up the lyrics from the next line, pointing at himself as he sang:

“Only nineteen but my mind is older

These New York City streets get colder, I shoulder

Every burden, every disadvantage I have learned to manage…”

Logan shot a surprised glare at Leo. Traitor. And now Finn was singing along again, and both of them were pointing at him, waiting for him to pick up the next line but Logan truly, truly had no idea what this was.

Finn looked at him with mock outrage when he realized Logan wasn’t faking his ignorance, straightening his back as he lifted his hands in a very ‘what the heck?’ sort of gesture.

Logan started to roll his eyes, but then all of a sudden, the beat changed again, and Finn’s hands were by his head and he was walking backward, winding his hips in a way that Logan had never seen him move before. A way that should be illegal.

His eyes were still locked on Logan’s, but where they had been filled with humour a moment ago, now they were burning with something intense that was sending Logan into a complete tailspin.

“I am the AL-EX-AN-D-ER, we are, meant to be.”

His emotions were already running high after their win, and now Finn was standing in front of him, moving like that, looking at him like that. He heard himself let out a shaky breath and snapped his jaw shut, swallowing hard and jerking his eyes away from Finn, desperate for something else to focus on. His gaze landed on Leo, right next to him, which was not better.

Leo. He could see his toned chest through the fitted t-shirt he was wearing, and he wanted to reach out and touch. Fuck.

He could feel all the walls he had built up over the past four months crumbling down around him, and he started to panic. He was supposed to be getting over his feelings for Leo. Not growing them. Not adding Finn into the mix.

His breathing sped up. How was he this gone, for both of them? Was that even possible??

Pull it together Tremblay. He tried to talk himself down. Leo was his teammate. They were both his friends- friends like he had never had before. Those walls were there for a good fucking reason. He didn’t want to risk them.

He took a deep breath in through his nose, straightening his spine and pushing his shoulders back. He could do this. He looked back up and watched as Finn crooked a finger at him, calling him in to dance with them. The same way they always did when they were out together. His face was open and happy again. He just looked like normal Finn now. This was familiar. He could do this. The song kept playing.

“Hey yo I’m just like my country

I’m young, scrappy and hungry

And I’m not throwing away my, shot!”

He took one step closer, and… nope. It would appear he could not, in fact, do this. He couldn’t handle familiar right now. He was buzzed, and high on adrenaline from the game, and this song was in his bones and if he was going to get himself out of this spiral, he needed to be away from the boys that were causing it.

He shook his head at Finn and forced a tight smile, watching him shrug his acceptance and turn to James instead. Logan turned to head over to where Sirius was stood in the corner of the living room, the only other person who looked as bewildered as he was by the scene. He had barely taken a step before a long arm wrapped around his shoulders from behind, pulling in him close to the strong chest he was trying to run away from. He closed his eyes, feeling his body tense as Leo’s low voice sounded in his ear, his skin warm against Logan’s own. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as Leo sang, off-key as usual, in some sort of horrible French accent.

“I dream of life without a monarchy

The unrest in France will lead to ‘onarchy?

Onarchy? How you say, how you, oh, anarchy?

When I fight I make the other side panicky with my, shot!”

It was hilarious, but feeling Leo this close to him right now, in this moment, was overload. It took everything he had to pull out of Leo’s grasp, grabbing his wrist and spinning underneath him. He stood on his tiptoes to let Leo spin too, and then gently shoved him back toward Finn. He knew Leo would assume he was following, so he turned back to the living room and slid into place next to Sirius.

He stood there, watching Nado and Kuny—how the hell did even Kuny know this song??—singing drunkenly on top of the couch, and tried to will his heart into submission.

After a few moments, Sirius’ voice sounded next to him. “Do you have any idea what this is?”

Logan shook his head, glancing over. “Non. But apparently we should be looking into it.”

Sirius just nodded, looking at him. Logan liked this about Sirius. He was quiet, and he didn’t mind if people were quiet around him. He always seemed to know when Logan needed a minute. He guessed that’s what made him a good captain. Logan felt calmer just being beside him. The two of them stood together in silence for a few minutes, until the whole house broke out into a chorus of ‘whoa’’s, and Sirius glanced over at him again. “You ok?”

“I’ll be better once this fucking song ends. How long is this thing?”

Sirius laughed at that, agreeing, and Logan felt his confidence coming back. He felt safer there, in the corner, watching Finn and Leo from afar. The distance had at least allowed his heart to stop pinging around his chest like a goddamn pinball machine. He was feeling, if not completely back in control, at least much more so than before.

“I’m good, Cap.” He meant it.

Sirius’ eyes were on his. “Ok. You know I’m here though, if you need me.”

“I know.” He shot Sirius a grateful smile. “Thanks, Sirius. Really.”

Sirius nodded, turning away as the song finally ended. Someone switched over to a dance playlist, and the living room turned into a de facto dance floor. Logan and Sirius stayed where they were for another song, until everyone else seemed to be either dancing, or involved in a game of what looked like Spoons at the dining room table. Logan drained the last of his rum and coke and turned to Sirius as he pushed off the wall toward the now empty kitchen. “I’m going to get another drink. You want anything?”

“No thanks. I’m good.” Sirius responded quietly, his expression soft. Logan followed his gaze over to where Loops was dancing with Lily and smiled. He clapped Sirius on the shoulder. “Ok, Cap. Have fun.”

---

A few shots and nearly an hour later, Logan was feeling as close to normal as he figured he would be able to pull off that night, teaching the Hoedown Throwdown choreography to a very enthusiastic Leo and Finn as someone’s country playlist blasted through the house. The team’s excitement for their freshly earned play-off spot had rubbed off on him again over the past hour, and he was enjoying himself, even if he was still a bit on edge.

It only took a few songs for them to ace the dance, and after they killed it to some song about chicken and tractors that Finn had sang every single word to, there was a break in the music while Nat and Talker argued over who got to choose next. They took the opportunity to their breath.

“Well, since we’re waiting anyway, I’m going to go grab another drink.” Finn swiped a hand through his sweat-tousled hair and looked between Logan and Leo. “Do you want anything?”

Leo shook his head, eyes bright against his dance-flushed cheeks. “No thanks. I think I’m done drinking for the night. We have a team meeting early tomorrow I don’t want to be hungover for.”

Logan still had half a drink in his hand, so Finn took off to the kitchen and left the two of them to discuss who they could drag into their next dance, which Finn had decided for reasons Logan didn’t understand, to try and learn as a square instead of a triangle.

A new song finally started to play as they scanned the room, and as the beat came across the speakers, Logan recognized it with a frustrated groan.

Wicked Games. One of the few songs that he used to have multiple versions of on his playlist. A song that he had had to take off said playlist, because it got him in his head about Finn and Leo.

Of course someone would put this song on right when he had gotten his shit back together. Of fucking course.

He took a long drink from his glass and looked up at Leo, who was still looking around the room for participants. He watched as the colour-changing living room lighting lit up the taller boy’s face: blue, then green, then orange.

“The world was on fire, and no one could save me but you”

Leo glanced over at him, and then did a double take, turning to fully face him. He scanned Logan’s face, eyebrows furrowing as concern flashed through his warm blue eyes. Logan sighed through his nose. Fucking Knutty. He always knew.

“And I never dreamed that I’d meet somebody like you”

When Logan didn’t make a move to explain anything, Leo just nodded and took a step back.

“You know what?” he started. “Let’s just do it as three. Finn’ll get over it. I don’t want to dance with anyone else right now.”

Logan knew Leo was only saying it for his sake. But he couldn’t be bothered to try and pretend he was down for an audience right now, so he just nodded and stepped into what would be his place in the triangle when Finn came back. Leo turned to assess the space around them, and Logan let himself watch again. He never got sick of looking at Leo. Kind, thoughtful, annoyingly perceptive, beautiful Leo. The lyrics of the song repeated, over and over.

“No I, don’t wanna fall in love, with you.”

“I think we’re going to need more room. Or someone’s going to get hurt.” Leo mused as he looked at the floor around them, trying to work out the logistics of the coordinated drunk jumping that was going to happen. One of his curls fell over his eyes. Logan resisted the urge to reach up and move it away.

“What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way

What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you”

Logan’s chest twisted and he pulled his gaze away. Fuck this song. He was going to kill Talkie for this. He could feel himself taking a nose-dive back to where he had been earlier that evening. Why couldn’t he shake these feelings tonight? He could always shake them. He was a master at shaking off feelings. This was ridiculous.

He decided to look for something they could push out of the way for more space, to give himself something to focus on. That was a task he could do.

But before he could move, a pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders from behind, the weight of a full-grown hockey player landing on his back and making him stumble forward. Pots’ voice was teasing in his ear. “Wicked Game is right, hey Tremzy??”

Logan’s breath caught in his throat as he froze in place, half bent over trying to regain his balance. Had Pots noticed? Was he being obvious?

“W-what?” he choked out.

James pulled him up and spun around him until they were face to face, his grin lopsided and his eyes a little glazed from the drinks he had clearly been celebrating with. “Wicked Game! Because you played a wicked game! Get it!? You got us the game winner, Tremz.” He looked wobbly on his feet, smiling dreamily. “You got us to the playoffs.”

Relief flooded Logan’s system. He hadn’t noticed. Nobody noticed. It was fine.

It didn’t feel fine.

“Oh. Ya, I guess.” He forced a little laugh.

“Come, my baby Canadian.” James bowed toward him, extending a hand. “I owe you this dance for getting me one step closer to my baby bathing in the cup.”

“Shut up, Pots.” Logan turned as an annoyed voice sounded behind them. Sirius, the inventor of superstition himself, walked by and smacked James gently upside the head. “Knock on wood. Now.”

“Ow,” James grumbled, rubbing his head and knocking on the doorframe he watched Sirius walk through, “how does he do that? It’s like he has a seventh sense for bad luck.”

Logan prayed James would follow Sirius away. But instead he just grinned and shoved Logan toward the center of the dance floor.

Logan did not want to be there anymore. James had freaked him out, and the stupid song was still playing. For the second time that night he wished he knew where the fucking skip button was located in this ridiculously oversized house.

Logan grabbed James’ arm and pulled him to a stop, leaning into him to prevent him going further. He turned on his best fake smile. “Hey Pots. I know I got the goal, but do you know who you really owe this dance to?”

James looked at him suspiciously. “Who?”

“Leo. We wouldn’t have won without his unreal performance tonight. You should get him first.”

James gasped. “You are right, Tremblay. Ok. I will get him first. But I will be back for you! Don’t move!”

Logan watched James wobble backward across the living room, shooting finger guns back at Logan until he crashed into a very amused-looking Leo.

When Logan figured the two of them were engaged enough to not notice him leaving, he slipped off in search of a quiet place to hang out for a while. He found a dark hallway off the end of the dining room and slid down to sit on the hardwood floor. His hands were shaking again as he pulled out his phone and opened the group chat he had with his sisters.

He missed his sisters. He hadn’t told them about his feelings for either of the boys—for any boy, really—but he knew that if he messaged them, they would talk him down without prying. And that was what he wanted right now. He shot off a simple, ‘you guys awake?’ message, and waited for the reply.

---

Leo

Leo was wandering around the main floor of Sirius’ house, looking for Logan. He was worried about him. Logan had been on edge all night, keeping his distance and forcing smiles that didn’t reach his eyes. Leo could tell he was trying to hide something, and after catching the way he had looked at Finn in the kitchen earlier, it wasn’t hard to guess what that something was.

He had been watching Logan and Finn dance around each other, figuratively and literally, for months now. It was hard, watching these boys—these boys that made him ache with how each of them had burrowed their way into his soul—watch each other. It made him feel like he was drowning.

He had told himself when he came to Gryffindor that he was here for hockey, that he wasn’t going to get involved with anyone. Get attached to anyone. But here he was, the world’s biggest idiot, falling head over heels for not one, but two of the literal worst possible people to fall for. His home roommate and his travel roommate. Both, to the best of his knowledge, very closeted. Both very interested in someone else. Both very interested in each other. It was a bit of a disaster.

But disaster or not, Leo wasn’t going to let Logan feel like he was alone tonight. He knew firsthand how much support from the people who love you mattered, even if you weren’t ready to talk about it yet.

He poked his head into the kitchen and found Finn, looking deep in conversation with Natalie, but Logan wasn’t with him. He was a bit concerned about Finn, too. He also seemed a bit off this evening, and he never had come back from his last drink break. But Finn was safe with Natalie for now, so Logan was his priority for the moment.

He checked a few more rooms before he caught a glimpse of Logan’s ever-present snapback out of the corner of his eye. He was sitting on the floor in the dark end of an empty hallway, the glow from his phone screen lighting up his face.

Leo moved cautiously toward him, and when he didn’t look up, slid to the floor to sit next to him.

“Hey.” He offered softly.

Logan looked up at him with a small, fleeting smile, his usually bright green eyes looking tired. “Hey.”

Leo scanned his face, trying to decide whether Logan wanted to talk. “What are you up to?”

“Just texting my sisters.”

Leo nodded, understanding, and looked away, giving Logan the chance to go back to his phone if he wanted to. Logan looked back down at the screen and typed out a final message before clicking the screen off and shoving it back in his pocket.

They sat quietly next to each other for a few minutes, just listening to the music. After a while, Logan broke the silence.

“It’s crazy that we’re heading to the playoffs.” He said quietly.

That made Leo smile a bit. He looked back over at Logan. “You played incredible tonight.” He said sincerely. “All season, really. I think we earned it.”

Logan’s lips quirked up a bit at the compliment. “Thanks, Nutty. We really did.”

They fell back into their comfortable silence, sitting shoulder to shoulder and watching what they could see of the dining room down the hall. In the lights of the party, Pots and Sirius were teasing Remus about something they couldn’t hear. Remus blushed a deep red and Sirius laughed as he pulled him in for a kiss.

“We’re really lucky.” Leo said, hoping that Logan knew he wasn’t just talking about the game anymore. When Logan didn’t respond, he looked over to see him pulling at the seams of his jeans, looking like he might be on the verge of tears. The sight pulled at Leo’s chest. He wanted to take Logan’s face in his hands and wipe away that look forever.

But he knew that wasn’t what Logan wanted. So instead he stood, holding out a hand to the shorter boy. He would be here for him in whatever way Logan needed. “You wanna get another drink? Or are you ready to head out?”

Logan looked up at him with reddened eyes, and Leo’s heart felt like it was breaking with every beat. And when Logan put his hand in his and the sparks flooded over his whole body, Leo closed his eyes and willed them away.

---

#sweater weather lumosinlove #o'knutzy #lumosinlove #Coast To Coast

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curlybookwriter0294 · 3 years

Text

Say My Name

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Fairy Tail sadly

Summary: To some Japanese couples, it’s tradition not to say each other’s name. It’s a weird and stupid tradition yes. But to some couples it’s highly important to stick with tradition as well as the culture.

Sometimes though, Lucy Heartfilia wished it wasn’t part of some stupid tradition and she also wishes that she wasn’t so freaking traditional because it can really drive a person insane because of it.

And it’s slowly beginning to happen to her now as we speak.

To some Japanese couples, it’s tradition not to say each other’s name. It’s a weird and stupid tradition yes. But to some couples it’s highly important to stick with tradition as well as the culture.

And it’s slowly beginning to happen to her now as we speak.

She smiled warmly when she turned over on her side to stare at the pink headed man that was sleeping soundly next to her. His bare muscular chest steadily moving up and down as he continues to breathe. His wild hair everywhere on Lucy’s pink pillow.

Lucy’s actually surprised that she had woken up before him which was rare because it would be usually him that would be up early watching her sleep until she had woken up.

Unless he’s still tired from their love making that had occurred last night.

She blushed madly red at the memories of him holding her tightly as he whispered things into her ear as he went in deeper and deeper inside to the point she saw stars. She had always assume that since he’s half dragon he would have more lasting stamina but then again he’s also half human so it would made sense that he would still get tired easily.

Now, back to the stupid Japanese traditions.

Even though the two of them had been dating for nearly two years— yes, two and counting— they had never yet said each other’s name. Because, well, once they do— that’s it. There’s no going back! That would mean they’re truly serious about each other.

Lucy could remember countless of times where she had been close to saying his name whenever they had gone out on one of their dates. And if she’s being totally honest with herself, she could’ve swore that he’s been also close to saying her name as well.

“You’re awake?” Lucy heard him muttered tiredly when he had opened his dark eyes, giving her a fanged grin. “How’d you sleep Heartfilia? Thought you would still be knocked out after…” he trailed off, eyeing the flushed beautiful blonde in front of him, loving the way her brown orbs widen in shock. “last night?”

Lucy scoffed at him and reached over to throw one of her pillows at him hoping that it would hit him in the face, sadly he caught it easily and sat it down beside him on the bed. “Well good fucking morning to you too, Dragneel.”

She watched him stretch out his arms above his head, making her worry her lower lip. She had always admired his muscular build and at how strong he was.

Lucy gasped when he had started to stare at her, leaning over the bed to give her a chaste kiss on her pink, plush lips. “Good morning, Heartfilia. Want me to make breakfast?”

Lucy sighed and nodded her head at him, reaching up with her manicured finger to lightly touch her lips; her brown eyes staring into his dark ones. “Y-yes, N—“ she gulped, immediately stopping herself from saying his name. She cleared her throat to try again. “Yes, that’s fine..”

She watched him cock his head to the side in confusion as he was studying her which caused her to slightly panic at the possibility that he could’ve heard her almost saying his name just now.

Lucy sighed in relief when he had leaned away from away from her, bending down to grab a random shirt to quickly slip on before leaving her room to start cooking them breakfast for the two of them.

Once he had fully disappeared out of sight, Lucy threw herself back on the bed and groaned loudly in frustration. “Damn it Lucy! Stupid ass traditions!”

Natsu Dragneel could’ve swore that she had almost said his name just now in her room. And if he was being completely honest with himself; he wouldn’t mind it one bit because truthfully he’s been wanting to say it too.

In fact, he’s been dying to say her lovely name and her name means light and throughout their whole entire relationship; she has been the bright light of his dark life that had once was before she had came and brighten it up.

Natsu growled lowly in the back of his throat as he watched four strips of bacon sizzling on a pan in front of him.

He was all alone before he had met the blonde of beauty. He frowned deeply at the memory of him arriving to the new city of Magnolia after his father Igneel had died suddenly, making him move to an unfamiliar city because his father had owned a house that he had wanted to have because of his final will.

He had no friends nor family. It was only him and his father always until the very end when he had passed. But then, she had appeared, yelling at him along the streets of downtown Magnolia asking him to help her catch a blue stray cat that was running past him. Once she had captured the cat; she had named him Happy and the two started out as friends.

He even trusted her enough to tell her that he was half dragon and to his shocking surprise; she had accepted him afterwards!

He also remembers her introducing him to a few other half dragons like himself. Even though it did took awhile for him to get along with Gajeel, Sting, Laxus, Wendy and Rogue; they all became close friends because they all had dragon blood in them.

He was there for her when Happy had died after running away again and she was there for him when the anniversary of his father’s death was near. And on that day of the anniversary, he leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips and the rest was history.

Well, almost anyway.

Now, Natsu had never consider himself a traditionalist. His girlfriend was more traditional than him and he had known that way before they had gotten together so he made sure to respect her beliefs and to be honest lately; it has been harder for him to not say her name.

He could feel it on the tip of his tongue each time they were together. Each time that they would made love he truly wanted to scream out her name in pure pleasure.

Natsu scoffed when he had grabbed two plates for them, making sure that the food wasn’t touching each other on her plate which made him chuckle quietly, sighing as he left the kitchen to head back towards her bedroom, smirking when he could see her sprawling across the bed and had immediately sat up straight when he had walked inside.

“Whatcha think about?” He asked her as he had planted himself on the edge of the bed, handing her a plate, quirking an eyebrow at her and immediately could tell that there was something on her mind because she was looking at him funny.

“L—“ Natsu shook his head of pink hair, realizing that he had almost said her name. “Heartfilia.” He tried again, grabbing their plates and moved them aside by placing them on the nightstand that was next to him. “What’s wrong, babe?”

“Natsu.”

If it weren’t for his super dragon hearing that he had inherited from his father he probably wouldn’t had heard his name just now that she had whispered so quietly.

“D—did you just say my name?” He asked, widening his eyes in shock, carefully leaning in close to her, wrapping their hands together on the blankets. “Say it again. Say my name once more. Please Lucy.”

Lucy couldn’t believe it. She had finally said his name and he had immediately said it back which made her heart skip a beat when she sees him leaning in closer to her.

“Natsu.” She could feel her eyes slowly started to close when she could feel his hot breath near her lips. So far, she loves saying his name. It rolled off her tongue easily. Why it took her so long she had no idea. She heard him chuckle lowly before finally closing the gap between them, kissing her on her lips. She could feel him pushing her gently on the bed, making her yelped in surprise.

“Natsu,” she says again, smiling at him once the two broke for air, panting heavily. “Oh, Natsu,” she whispered, reaching her arms up to wrap them around his neck to bring him closer.

“Lucy.” Natsu mumbled, leaning his nose down towards her neck. “Lucy. Lucy.” Natsu said, smiling against the nape of her neck.

“Say my name again.”

“Natsu.”

“Lucy. Lucy Heartfilia. It feels so damn good to finally say it.” Natsu told her, moving his lips down along her neck, making her shiver when she could feel one of his fangs lightly grazing her neck.

“N—Natsu. Natsu Dragneel. We’re finally saying our names.”

“It’s about damn time. Huh, Lucy?”

“Yes, Natsu. It’s about damn time.”

A/N: back with another NaLu fic!! Please let me know what you guys think of it!! :)

#fairy tail nalu #nalu smut #nalu fanfiction #nalu fanfic #nalu au #ft nalu #nalu fluff #ft fanfiction

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mordoriscalling · 3 years

Text

Secret pt.2

A follow up to my fanfic about Geralt talking (and eventually confessing his love) to Jaskier in Polish, thinking that Jaskier doesn’t understand. @artistsfuneral came up with that glorious idea in this fic! Now, pt 2 is about how Jaskier learns the language, as requested by blue_midnight on AO3. Hope you enjoy!

(This fic also includes background, brief Lambert/ Aiden)

At the beginning, Jaskier suspects that it’s Geralt’s way of being as rude as possible. Why on earth act like that, he has no idea, but one thing is for certain: the rustling sounds leaving Geralt’s mouth, which Jaskier thinks are supposed to be words, are set to drive him insane.

It must be some kind of language. Geralt uses it when talking to his horse a lot. Jaskier almost finds the behaviour endearing but then the witcher speaks in that tongue when answering many of his questions. Jaskier just wants to get them better acquainted but Geralt couldn’t care less about the offerings of friendship, apparently.

Even though the witcher can be a right bastard like that, one thing is clear from the very start: Jaskier can only wish to be half the man Geralt is, but the world thinks it’s Geralt who is less than human. Jaskier finds he can’t stand by and let it happen.

It’s a simple exchange. They both need each other to prove that they’re more than what everyone thinks they are. The transaction is uncomplicated: Geralt fights monsters for Jaskier to sing about, Jaskier softens the hearts and the minds. As time passes, however, it changes and becomes more complex: they share food, rooms and coin, start caring for each other in all the small but significant ways.

Five years pass and it’s a friendship in full bloom, but Geralt still often talks to him and snaps at him in that damned tongue, like he doesn’t think Jaskier worthy of knowing his thoughts. It’s never stopped angering him but at this point, he’s also intrigued in what Geralt wants to hide and why the hell it seems to concern him so often. (A certain feeling that shall not be named blooms in his chest at the thought and he squashes it).

Then there’s that one bath. Geralt looks at him as if he was the most fascinating puzzle in the world which, fair, Jaskier is interesting if he does say so himself, but not that much. It’s on that day that he decides to learn that bloody language, even if it’s the last thing he does.

Jaskier goes to Oxenfurt that winter and searches the vast library through and through. The librarians shoot him looks indicating their suspicion about him being a maniac but Jaskier is simply a man on a mission. In the middle of winter, his madness finally bears fruit – he finds an ancient book written in a language he has never seen. “Wiedźmiński bestiariusz” the title says. Inside, there’s a loose piece of parchment with the first few paragraphs of the book translated, including the title – “Witcher Bestiary”. The book is full of sketches of monsters and descriptions, the words containing several strange letters. Many passages aren’t readable anymore because they’ve faded with age but Jaskier treasures the book anyway. He spends the rest of the winter copying all the legible pages, indulging in life’s pleasures much less, which only fuels the rumours of his insanity. All the while, he hopes that this is the language Geralt has been using.

The answer comes surprisingly quickly in the surprising shape of another wolf witcher. They stumble upon each other in late spring in Redania. It’s such a funny coincidence that there’s no way Jaskier’s not going to make the best of it.

“See, master witcher,” Jaskier says as they drink ale together, “When I rummaged through my university’s library, I stumbled upon an interesting volume.” He forgets to mention the translated passages as he pulls out his copy of the book and lays it on the table in front of Lambert. The witcher’s eyes widen when they rest upon the title and Jaskier knows this is it. He grins and carries on, “It seems to be full of precious knowledge and wisdom, yet it’s written in a language I don’t understand. It concerns monsters, so I was hoping a witcher could assist me in decoding this tongue.”

Lambert says nothing for some time, only regarding Jaskier with suspicion. “Why would you want to learn it?” he questions.

“Call it academic curiosity.”

The witcher’s eyes narrow. Hadn’t Jaskier spent so much time with Geralt, he would certainly squirm under the hot, searching gaze.

“It’s not a secret language of your guild, is it?” he asks to break the tense silence.

“It’s not,” Lambert answers, “But no one really bothered before, is the thing. Dunno what to make of you.”

Jaskier sighs and decides to reveal the malice of his intentions because, from what little Geralt told him of his brothers, he knows that Lambert will appreciate it. “Listen,” he says as he leans in towards the red-haired witcher, “just imagine how it’ll freak Geralt out when he finds out.”

Lambert lets out a delighted laugh. “Fuck, I wanna be there when it happens.”

Jaskier can’t make any promises of the sort, so he says nothing to that. Instead, he asks, “Do we have a deal, then?”

“We’ll see.”

Lambert’s reserve didn’t make sense at that moment but Jaskier almost wishes he didn’t find out why the witcher was so cautious about his enthusiasm.

It turns out the language is a demonic creation. Lambert starts explaining some basic words and phrases to him and it already makes Jaskier’s head spin – there are so many forms and conjugations that Jaskier’s task of achieving fluency in that damned tongue suddenly appears almost too daunting. Almost.

He still wants to see the look on Geralt’s bloody beautiful face.

Lambert lets Jaskier join him on the Path for a few weeks. Throughout that time, he teaches Jaskier a bit more, especially how to read in the language. The wonderful thing about it is that, once he knows all the rules of pronunciation, he can read everything out loud. The dreadful thing is that the pronunciation itself is so tough and tongue-twisting that it may as well be a form of diabolical punishment inflicted upon Jaskier for all the transgressions he committed.

Lambert laughs when he voices his frustrations. “Przyzwyczaisz się.” You’ll get used to it, the witcher answers, his voice producing the mad consonant clusters with ease.

“I doubt it,” Jaskier grumbles under his breath.

The two of them part ways as Jaskier pays for Lambert’s services with a song. Jaskier saw the wolf witcher take down a vampire in a truly spectacular manner, so it was no hardship. After Lambert leaves, Jaskier starts learning on his own. Whenever Geralt hunts, he reads out loud from his copy of the bestiary (and how Geralt never overhears it is truly beyond him. Melitele likes him calling upon her tits so frequently, it seems). He tries to decipher the words in the book using all knowledge he has, translating some more passages. He and Lambert also exchange letters but Jaskier fails at writing in the tongue miserably. The last one he wrote returns to him with a multitude of Lambert’s corrections and a short note from the witcher himself:

"Cały list do przepisania, skowroneczku." The whole letter needs rewriting, little lark.

Jaskier huffs at the nickname, ruffling his figurative feathers in indignation. Although a lark’s voice is beautiful, very much so, its plumage is too plain. Jaskier could never. He would be a blackbird at the very least. Or a siskin. A bullfinch, preferably. If Jaskier was honest, a peacock would best fit to describe his exterior, but the sounds peacocks make aren’t pleasant, so he would be willing to settle on some colourful songbird.

Damn Lambert, in any case. The witcher knows far too well how to rile him up. It’s a bit unnerving.

"Skowronek to nie jak ja." Lark doesn’t sound like me, Jaskier answers in the next letter.

"Rzeczywiście, tak ładnie nie śpiewasz." True, your singing isn’t that pretty, Lambert writes back.

Damn him indeed. Jaskier responds to that comment with a simple, efficient “fuck you”, to which Lambert replies “chciałbyś” you wish.

Jaskier can’t exactly deny this. He would certainly show his appreciation for Lambert’s fiery spirit if not for one little, tiny problem. The problem is so minuscule that Jaskier does everything in his power not to think about it. He seeks out lovers constantly and falls into the Countess de Stael’s arms almost every winter. She wants his attention now, as it’s a puppy love no longer, but during his stay at her palace, someone else always catches his attention. She kicks him out the moment she finds out. And so their romance goes, rinse and repeat.

No matter whether Jaskier winters at the Countess’s court, Oxenfurt, or some other place, he always devotes much of his free time to search for any book containing the Witcher tongue, as Jaskier started calling it. There isn’t much anywhere, and Lambert’s letters are few and far in between. Jaskier can feel himself getting stagnant in his learning and he can’t afford it. Not now, after six years of gargantuan effort that he’s put in already. Not when Geralt sometimes says something to him in that quiet, warm voice, and he still doesn’t understand.

Jaskier seems to enjoy more of Melitele’s blessing than he really should because, just when he’s getting desperate, there’s a godsend dropped on his way on a lovely spring day.

Quite literally dropped, since that witcher falls from a tree Jaskier’s about to walk under as he’s on his way to find Geralt. There’s a cat medallion around the witcher’s neck, and his body is gravely injured. He’s unconscious and Jaskier takes the liberty to use his witcher potions to help him not die. After he finally opens his eyes the next day, he introduces himself as Aiden.

It takes Aiden two more days to stand back on his feet. Soon after he manages that, Jaskier makes him trip when he speaks in the Witcher tongue to him, and the poor Cat witcher actually falls to the ground when Jaskier mentions Lambert. Sensing some story there, he sticks by Aiden’s side for a week or two. They make fast friends and promise to write to each other frequently.

Aiden’s letters are just what Jaskier needs to improve. The witcher is more expansive than Lambert and a touch flirty, which is perfect. As their correspondence goes on, Jaskier grows to like him only more and more. Not that much, though; he’s still stuck in the merry old mess of admiration and friendly affection getting out of hand. At least he’s not the only one – the story that Aiden and Lambert share is there in the letters, between the lines, and Jaskier is clever enough to see it.

Jaskier and Aiden meet for a drink in Novigrad once. When they’re deep into their cups, they start whining about their predicament.

“Cholerne wilki.” Damned wolves, Aiden grumbles.

“Cholerne wilki.” Damned wolves, Jaskier agrees wholeheartedly.

Ten years of learning the Witcher tongue have passed when Jaskier finds Geralt fishing for a djin in the lake near Rinde. He’s known Geralt for sixteen years now, so it takes him exactly one moment to see through the sorry excuse of insomnia. Destiny can’t be trifled with like that, he knows, so he doesn’t let it happen.

When Jaskier sings his friend to sleep, Geralt wonders about deserving him, that silly witcher. As if it wasn’t Jaskier who could only dream of deserving Geralt. As if Jaskier wasn’t a cheater, a homewrecker and a bastard who shouldn’t even deserve to look into those warm, gold eyes that allow a peek into the heart of gold.

As they meet Yennefer, the chemistry between her and Geralt is so strong that Jaskier can almost see the sparkles fly. Jaskier holds his breath all throughout their stay in Rinde. After they leave and nothing happens, there’s no relief. Now the witcher and the sorceress can get together any time and Jaskier turns bitter at the ripe, sweet age of thirty-four.

He lets go of many things after that. The silly affair with the Countess, caring about what the educated think about his works. He lives, breathes and grows, at last, fuelled by the one thing that he’s driven by best – sheer, absolute spite. Jaskier’s learnt the Witcher tongue out of spite (among other motives that he refuses to think about), and out of spite he will survive now, no matter how much he worries about a purple-eyes sorceress being such a great match for the White Wolf that even he wants to write a ballad about it.

Jaskier doesn’t ask, of course, and Geralt doesn’t say. They keep travelling together and Jaskier basks in the glory of knowing exactly what Geralt says about him when the witcher thinks he doesn’t understand. It’s wildly satisfying indeed but only up to a point – until the day Geralt calls him beautiful. Jaskier accepts the compliment with a smile, since it is the truth after all, but he can’t trust his voice to answer. He tries to fight the idiotic hope blooming in his chest and blames the warmth in Geralt’s gaze on the firelight. He reminds himself that Geralt doesn’t see him that way because it’s only women that the witcher’s ever been interested in. Life goes on.

Then his world crashes around him as he hears the words about love leaving Geralt’s mouth. That is when he can’t hold it in anymore and his secret is out. Or both his secrets, really.

It’s so freeing that he’s heady. Or maybe the giddiness can be all on Geralt. Or perhaps on the fact that, when Jaskier bares his heart in the Witcher tongue, it touches the witcher’s heart to its very core. He can feel it, in the way Geralt clings to him, and he already knows he won’t find any words to describe it properly in any language he knows.

That's how he knows it's something worth living and loving for - it means too much for words.

***

A/N: Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it! This fic is also available on AO3. Part 3 is coming, hopefully soon. It will be a 5+1 kind of thing about Geralt and Jaskier using the language.

Part 3

#myfic #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #the witcher #the witcher netflix #the witcher fanfiction #canon divergence

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berrynarrybanana · 3 years

Text

Mrs. Styles - Honeybee Extra

A/N: I would like to let you all know that I don’t know what happened here. I started writing at the beginning of my shift and I just didn’t stop and then bam, this happened? I have links to the outfit and other things mentioned in the fic below. I hope you enjoy the visual trip and the journey of this fic as it is a whirlwind ride. Please let me know if you enjoy this and please tell Harry to stop trying to kill me if you see him, kay? I love you all and I’m here if you need to talk!

Rental House | Outfit |

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Daddy kink, impreg!kink, roleplay

November 2020

The second the photos broke, I lost it.

Harry wearing a wedding ring on the set of his new film sent me reeling in a pit of lust and wanting unlike any other. I spent my entire afternoon clenching my thighs together and avoiding small talk with coworkers. I was meant to fly out on Friday afternoon to visit him for the weekend, but I was struggling to hold it together. The wedding band on his finger was taunting me from two thousand miles away and I was caving. Anna had no problem with me disappearing a little early, so long as I had my laptop with me and my articles submitted.

My flight was switched for Thursday morning instead of Friday evening as originally planned. I had to jump through some hoops to ensure no one actually saw me entering JFK or leaving LAX. Having pap photos taken of me would certainly ruin my surprise. I spent too much time hatching my plan for a group of sleazy men with camera’s to ruin it.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Harry rubbed at his eyes, his voice scratchy and his brain groggy due to the early hour. “You look like you’re going on a run.”

“I’m doing a bunch of errands for Anna today, so I decided to dress casual.” I shrugged, shifting around in my private lounge seat at the airport. “I’m waiting for a friend of hers to get off their flight before I take them into the office.”

“Thought you were hopping on your flight a little early to surprise me.” He pouted, his eyes shining under the dim lighting. “Made my heart race a little.”

“I wish I could, darling.” I said softly. “I miss you so much already and it’s barely been two weeks.”

“I know, it sucks.” He inhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Only one more sleep and then we’ll be together for the weekend.”

“I can’t wait, squid.” I said softly. “I’ll talk to you later today, okay? Don’t be upset if I can’t answer a text or anything, I’ll be so busy with Anna’s errands-”

“S’alright, honey.” He gave me a reassuring smile. “I’ll be on set so I might not be able to text as often either.”

“Alright.” I said. “I love you.”

“I love you.” He blew a kiss to the camera and I caught it, pressing my fingers to my cheek with a soft giggle. “Have a great day, honey.”

“You too, squid.”

After I hung up with Harry, I jumped into planning mode.

I already had the address to the rental house and a copy of the key. Harry had sent it to me the moment he got one himself just in case I ever wanted to come visit. We both knew that flight times and his filming schedule might not line up perfectly, so it didn’t hurt to have a key just in case I had to drive from LAX to Palm Springs on my own. I planned on stopping at the Malibu house to steal Roxanne from the garage. It would take me two hours and a half hours to get from Malibu to Palm Springs once I finally started my solo road trip.

As I switched over to a calming playlist that Harry made for me on my birthday, I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths.

I knew that it would be a fun trip, but I could only hope that Harry really liked his surprise.

****************************

The sun was beating down on my bare legs as I leaned against Roxanne.

I anxiously twirled the set of keys around my perfectly painted fingernails. I picked one of the most infamous shades from the 1950’s to match my hair, makeup, and outfit. I rubbed my painted lips together nervously, taking a shuddery breath as I watched the gate of the production set carefully. I thought that it was going to open four times before, but no one had stumbled off set yet.

They were all set to do a two hour lunch break today and that gave me plenty of time to do what I wanted with Harry back in his rental home. I spent most of my time getting ready there, following several tutorials on vintage hair and makeup before I dressed in my adorable outfit. It was something I saw on a show about a female comedian in the fifties. I adored her style throughout the whole show, but I really loved this outfit on me.

It was a pair of black and white check shorts with a matching, three quarter sleeve blazer. I went through Harry’s closet, in search of his ivory silk shirt that I’d seen him wear in a pap photo years ago, to add a little special touch to the outfit. It had his last name stitched on the pocket to compliment the fake wedding ring I’d slipped on my finger.

That was the part I was nervous about.

I didn’t want him to think that I was insane for finding a piece of costume jewelry to match his own fake wedding ring. I got the idea on the flight over from New York, my mind racing with ideas and scenarios to play out. I ultimately decided that if he could torture me with a wedding ring, then I could torture him with one.

The gate finally opened as I started to contemplate picking my nails, a loud screeching sound pulling me from my thoughts as I gripped the keys to the benz in my hand tightly.

Florence was the first out, and while I was delighted to meet the girl who was spending so much time with my boyfriend, I didn’t care to meet her just yet. I watched her turn back, letting out a charming giggle as my boyfriend followed suite behind her. Olivia Wilde was next, a bag on her shoulder and a wide smile on her face. A few other familiar faces trailed out after Harry, and suddenly, my nerves had skyrocketed. A lot of famous people were about to see me in a classic fifties get up with a car scarf around my curls and my legs exposed.

My nerves were soothed for just a moment as I looked at Harry’s freshly cut hair, slicked back in a style that I thought I would hate on him. As per usual, he looked like a daydream. My breath caught in my throat when he looked over at me, his eyes growing wide and a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. Florence caught on to his line of sight, following his gaze until her eyes landed on me. I gave him a quick wave as everyone else turned to look at me and I felt my face grow hot. He pressed a quick kiss to Olivia’s cheek and then Florence’s before jogging my way.

“What the hell is all this?” He gripped my elbow gently, leaning down to press his lips to mine with a wide smile. “Beatrice, you look so good.”

“I know.” I hummed against his lips, brushing my fingers over his cheek. “Hi.”

“Hiya, honey.” He cooed, wrapping his arms around me. “Fuck me, you’re gorgeous.”

“I thought I’d do a little something to surprise you.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, tossing my head back when he pulled the scarf from my head. “Harry!”

“You did your hair and makeup, too?” He kissed my cheek. “Come on, I want you to meet Olivia and Florence. They’re going to love this.”

“I don’t want her to think I’m mocking her movie.” I glanced down at Harry, causing him to frown slightly. “I did it because I knew you would love it and I had a lot of fun dressing up, but I don’t want to offend her.”

“You won’t.” He reassured me. “She’ll probably make you an extra.”

“Shut up.” I rolled my eyes as he pouted. “Fine, I’ll go over there.”

“Thank you.” He set me down, grabbing my hand before tugging me along.

“Olivia, Florence,” Harry glanced back at me with a giddy grin. “This is my girlfriend, Beatrice.”

“Hello,” I stuck my hand out between us and they both went for a shake. “It’s really nice to meet y’all.”

“You too.” Florence beamed back at me with a smile that was almost as bright as the sun. “I just want to thank you for letting me borrow your boyfriend. He’s such a lovely person and a dream to work with.”

“Try baking with him, you’ll change your mind.” I squeezed Harry’s hand, letting out a soft chuckle. “He’s like a toddler when he gets in the kitchen.”

“I can’t imagine him in an apron.” Olivia laughed. “We have to see that.”

“I have pictures, I’ll make sure to give him a framed one for his trailer.” I pressed my lips together as Harry squeaked out.

“Alright, I didn’t think you’d all gang up on me.” He said playfully. “I wanted to show you off and here you are, teasing me for baking.”

“I’m teasing you because you steal the batter on a spoon, not because you’re baking. I love baking with you.” I bumped my hip into his, smiling up at him. “But I’ve got to keep you grounded, don’t I? Your head will inflate and I’ll have to tie a cinder block to your foot to keep you from floating off.”

“Haha, you’re so funny.” He scrunched his nose up and I tossed my head back, letting out a loud laugh. “Anyways, what do you think of her outfit?”

“Oh, Harry, don’t-”

“It looks great, actually.” Olivia said. “Did I see that on the set of the Marvelous Mrs. Masiel?”

“Yeah, you did.” I nodded. “I love that show and all of her outfits so much.”

“It looks adorable on you.” Florence said. “You work for Vogue, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “I did a piece with one of your Little Women co-stars not too long ago, actually.”

“I thought you seemed familiar.” She exclaimed. “You came on set one day, didn’t you?”

“I did.” I nodded. “It was an honest to god, out of body experience for me. I loved Little Women so much as a girl. I seriously wanted to change my name to Josephine after reading it.”

“And then the film was so bloody amazing!” Florence exclaimed. “Harry, why have you kept her away from us for so long?”

“S’not my fault she has a job.” He rolled his eyes, chortling playfully. “I tried to convince her that being a housewife was much more fun, but I think she read the script and decided against it.”

“Yeah, I sure did.” I laughed softly alongside Olivia and Florence. “We should do dinner or something this weekend. I don’t know if you all have plans, but Harry’s rental house has a table that seats like, eight people.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Olivia said. “Just let us know the details and I’ll pass it along to the other main actors.”

“Sounds great.” Harry said. “Well, I’m going to steal my girl away if you don’t mind. I’ll see you in two hours?”

“See you then, Harry.” Florence waved before she took off in the direction of her car. “Bye, Beatrice!”

“Bye, Florence.” I waved back at her with a giggle before turning to Olivia. “It was really lovely to meet you. I’ll make sure to get him back in time.”

“Thank you.” She laughed. “Have a great lunch, you two.”

“Thanks.” Harry and I said at the same time.

When Olivia was gone, Harry looked down at me with a smirk.

“Do I get to fuck you now?” He asked, his dimple popping out.

“It depends.” I said slowly. “Would you, by chance, like to partake in a little role play?”

“It depends.” He said back. “What do you have in mind?”

I walked forward, smoothing my hands over his t-shirt covered chest. I pressed up on my toes, bringing my lips as close to his ears as I could get them.

“Do you still have your wedding ring from set?”

********************************************

“Honey!” I heard Harry’s voice from where I was lounging on the sofa, a magazine draped over my thighs. “I’m home.”

I smiled, flipping through my magazine without actually paying attention to it.

I heard Harry’s footsteps moments later, his dress shoes tapping along the concrete floor of the house. I tilted my head up when he moved in front of me, his eyes trailing over my body.

“You look comfortable.” He said, reaching for my magazine with two fingers. “You didn’t answer when I called out for you.”

“Sorry, darling,” I hummed out when he pressed his lips to mine. “I was invested in an article.”

“You and your articles.” He breathed against my lips. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you. Are you just going to sit there?”

“I was planning on it, sweet pea.” I brushed my thumb over his bottom lip. “I’m relaxing my feet.”

“Now, I’ve been gone on business for six days, honey. I would like the chance to properly greet my beautiful wife.” He smirked, setting his briefcase to the coffee table behind him.

“Mr. Styles,” I twisted my legs off the couch, standing up between the furniture and Harry. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I’ve got far too much to get done today. I’ve still got grocery shopping to do and well, I have to call your Mother.”

“I have a better plan, doll.” He roughly gripped my hips, his fingers digging into my sides harshly as he yanked me against his chest. “How about we sneak off for a little afternoon delight?”

“Harry Styles, I don’t think so.” I mocked offense, swatting his shoulder. “I’m far too busy.”

“Make time for your husband, honey.” He cooed, brushing his knuckles against my cheek gently before he gripped my chin. “Make love with your husband.”

“Mr. Styles, you do drive a hard bargain.” I whispered, my breath catching in my throat as our eyes connected in a lustful gaze. “I do have something I’ve been wanting to show you.”

“Mrs. Styles, what have you been up to while daddy’s been away?” He hummed out as his lips brushed against my red painted lips. “Have you been naughty?”

“No,” I smirked. “I’ve been an angel.”

“Prove it.” He whispered moments before our lips collided.

He kissed me just like they did in the old movies, his body wrapping around mine. I moaned against him when I felt his tongue slip over my own, giving me a taste of what I had been craving for two weeks now. I let out a giggle and then a squeak of surprise when I felt his hands under my bum, lifting me up into his arms. I wrapped my legs around him, holding on tight as he walked us from the living room towards the bedroom. He dropped me on the bed before grabbing my right ankle, holding my leg up as my ankle rested on his shoulder.

“These heels…” He started to fiddle with the clasp, finally pulling the strap loose before he slipped it off. “They’re new.”

“Just bought them.” I gripped the duvet under my fingers. “Do you like them?”

“Yes.” He kissed my ankle before gently resting my right leg on the bed. “Did you buy them with daddy’s money?”

“I did.” I bit my lower lip as my core clenched, my walls fluttering at his tone. “I bought them for you.”

“You didn’t even ask daddy before you bought them.” He tutted, reaching for my left ankle. “You’re getting bold.”

“I just wanted to surprise you.” I said.

“I’m very surprised.” He gave me a soft wink, one that let me know my Harry was still in this version of him that we’d quickly created in the car.

A business man with a daddy kink in the 1950’s that wanted to knock his wife up after a long business trip. It was a simple plot, but it combined quite a few kinks into one scenario, so we didn’t really mind. I giggled when he reminded me that daddy was a common nickname in that time period, something girls called their husbands in a provocative setting.

When both of my heels were off, Harry brushed his hands up my bare thighs until they landed on my hips. He gently guided me towards the center of the bed before kneeling over me. I lifted both hands up, cupping his cheeks as he leaned down to kiss my lips.

“Mrs. Styles,” He hummed out. “I’ve been thinking?”

“About what, Mr. Styles?” I pressed my lips over his cheek, sliding my fingers towards the back of his neck.

“I think it’s been quite lonely around here.” He said. “I can’t imagine you’re enjoying all of this time alone when I’m away on business.”

“I get by just fine.” I said softly, dropping my head back to the mattress. “Do you want to get a dog, Harry? Is that what this is about?”

“I don’t want to get a dog, darling.” He chuckled, brushing his nose over mine. “I want a baby.”

“A baby?” My eyes grew wide. “Isn’t it a bit soon, darling? We’ve only been married for five months.”

“That’s more than enough time, doll.” He whined. “I want us to have a beautiful little baby to love and to dote on. I want to show her off in front of my friends and my family-”

“Oh, Mr. Styles.” I sighed, shaking my head. “Don’t you know I’d do anything for you, darling.”

“Is that a yes?” He smirked, his eyes lighting up.

“Yes.” I gasped out when he rutted his hips forward. “Please.”

He wasted no time, stripping me from my blazer and then my tiny shorts. He tossed them aside carelessly, his hands falling to the buttons on the silk shirt that I had stolen from our closet.

“S’this mine?” He glanced up at me with a confused smirk. “Haven’t seen this in ages.”

“S’yours.” I nodded, holding the lapel to the side to show off his name. “S’got your name on it and everything.”

“Cheeky girl.” He cooed out, dropping his head to press a kiss to my stomach. “It’s our name.”

I let out a low whine in the back of my throat, shifting my hips as Harry made it to the last button towards the top of the dress shirt. I watched his face carefully as he pushed it to the side, his eyes scanning the black, vintage set that I had purchased for today.

“You’re trying to kill me.” He gasped out as his fingers brushed over the skin of my stomach to my breasts. “Fucking….I can’t take this anymore. I need to be inside of you.”

“Then get inside of me, Mr. Styles.” I lifted my legs, spreading them apart slightly so he could see the cut out area on the crotch of the panties. “You don’t even have to take everything off.”

Harry’s eyes were on mine, burning a dark shade of emerald as he licked over his bottom lip. I giggled when he started to unbuckle his trousers, tanking the zipper down before he tucked his hand in. He pulled his cock out, giving it a few firm strokes before he hovered his body over mine. Seconds later, I felt the stretch of my walls around his cock, causing my body to tense.

“There’s my girl.” He grunted out, pushing himself in as far as he could possibly go before pressing a few, sloppy kisses to my face. “So snug around me, aren’t you?”

“Harry.” I dropped my hands to his back, digging my nails into the cotton of his shirt as he pulled out slowly. Seconds later, he was pushing back in and I was gasping for air. “Fuck, that’s nice.”

“Mrs. Styles, you have such a filthy mouth.” He smeared his lips over mine before both of his hands found their home by my ears. “Who taught you to talk like that?”

“You.” I let out a breathless chuckle that quickly faded as the tip of his cock massaged my g-spot.

“Yeah?” His eyelids fluttered shut as he continued to work his hips in a steady rhythm. “No other blokes have been hangin’ round here?”

“None.” I shook my head as my nails drug down to his lower back and eventually to his bum. I pushed my fingers down his pants, digging my nails into the flesh there. “Just you.”

“You’re my girl.” He gritted out as a single curl fell to his forehead. “Only mine.”

“Only yours.” I whimpered, biting at my lower lip. “You feel so good, Harry.”

“Can’t wait to see you pregnant, honey.” He let out a whine of his own, clenching his eyes. “It’s gonna be so beautiful, seeing you round and full while you carry my baby..”

“I want it so bad, Harry.”

“And after this baby,” He let out a strangled moan, delivering another sharp thrust that had me gasping. “I’m gonna put another one in you, and then another.”

“Please, I want it.” I nodded, sliding my fingers back up his back. “Want you closer.”

He pressed his body into mine, his hips moving in desperate thrusts and his pelvis applying pressure to my clit with each move. I tossed my head back, silently asking for his lips to press against my throat. I felt him latch on as his thrust started to get sloppier. I knew that he was close by the little whines pulling from his throat and the puffs of air hitting my skin.

Harry’s hand slipped between our bodies in no time, rubbing my clit with an urgency that I’d never experienced before with him. I felt my body flush warm and my walls tighten around him as he delivered three final thrusts. We both cried out when he spilled into me, filling my walls with his cum until it dripped out onto the black panties still settled onto my hips.

“You bought yourself a ring?” our chests were both heaving, his body still pressed into mine.

I tried to let out a giggle, but he was heavy against my body and it came out wheezy.

“It’s costume jewelry.” I brushed my hand over his back. “Just thought it would be fun after I saw you wearing that ring on set. I saw the pictures online and they nearly killed me.”

“Mhm, you’re just trying to seduce me into proposing earlier than I planned.” He lifted his head, pressing his lips against mine in a sweet kiss. “Hello, honey.”

“Hiya, darling.” I lifted my hand, tugging gently on the curl that fell over forehead with a fond smile. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” He whispered. “I love you and everything you do for me. I don’t tell you enough how much I appreciate you for being the best girlfriend out there.”

“Harry-”

“Don’t deflect or play it down,” He said sternly. “I mean every word from the bottom of my heart, Beatrice. I...no one else on set has had a spouse or partner come visit them on the weekends. No one else had flowers sent to their trailer or daily facetime calls and inspirational messages. You make me feel so loved and so special on a daily basis and that means the world to me. So thank you for being you, honey. I love you with all of my heart.”

“I love you, too.” I sniffled, blinking rapidly as a few tears fell down my temples, into my hair. “I hope you liked your surprise. I didn’t want to freak you out, but I thought it would be fun.”

“It was.” He brushed his nose over mine. “It was a lot of fun, actually. I think we should mess around like that more often.”

“Not too often, though.” I chuckled. “One of these days, I’ll actually end up pregnant.”

“Wheat’s wrong with that?” He hummed out.

“One step at a time, darling.” I patted his shoulder. “Oh, just so you know, we won’t be having a girl first.”

“Excuse me?” Harry hissed when I pushed at his shoulders, causing him to slip out of my walls. I guided him to his back before I climbed on top of him, pressing my palms to his tummy. “I don’t...what?”

“You said ‘her’ earlier, but we’re having a boy first.” I said casually. “I know it.”

“How do you know it?” He chuckled as his brows creased. “Did you make a deal with Stevie at one of her witch things?”

“I didn’t need to make a deal, I just know it.” I patted his cheek. “Gonna name him Ellis.”

“Why Ellis?” He tilted his head to the side. “Where did you hear that?”

“Ellis Island.” I smiled. “We took our first vacation together in New York and the ferry to Ellis Island was one of my favorite parts of that trip. It’s a piece of our history.”

“I love that.” He said softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” I giggled, leaning forward to press my lips against his. “Round two?”

“Why, Mrs. Styles, I like the way you think.”

#harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles X ofc #honeybee #extra

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mksc77 · 3 years

Text

A little World Series celebration/Halloween fic :) Hope y’all like it! 💜

"Hi, you guys," Sharon greeted as Provenza and Patrice followed Andy onto the back porch. She nodded at the bottle of wine in Patrice's hands. "Ahh, this is why we're friends. You bring gifts."

"I got red so Louie wouldn't drink half of it," Patrice murmured as she gave her the bottle. "I've gained a few pounds with all of this isolation and have been drinking more than normal, so I'm trying to cut back."

"So have I," Sharon agreed, "but tonight will have to be an exception. My nerves are already shot, and the game hasn't even started." October had been a crazy month for sports. Sharon nor Andy were basketball fans, but with a local team playing in the NBA finals, they'd watched most of the games and had been excited for a Lakers championship. And admittedly had the best sex they'd ever had afterward. The World Series had started just a few days later, and it seemed like they'd spent most of the month glued to the TV. With neither couple having ventured out in the last week or so, they'd decided that a socially-distanced, outdoor viewing of the game together would be reasonably safe.

Andy was watching the pregame coverage on TV. "Damn, I miss Vin Scully. Baseball still hasn't been the same without him."

Sharon rolled her eyes. "Oh, god, here we go. There better not have to be a seventh game, because I don't think I can handle another night of Scully mourning."

"The man was a legend!" Andy protested.

"Honey, it's been a couple of years since he retired. I think it's about time to get over it."

"Blasphemy," Andy muttered.

By the Fifth Inning, the game was looking grim. "I feel like I'm watching a little girl's t-ball game," Provenza complained.

Sharon raised an eyebrow. "You clearly never saw any of Emily's games. She was probably the only five-year-old in history to turn t-ball into a contact sport. I was actually relieved when she was a little older and decided to give up other activities to put more time into ballet."

Andy shook his head. "Shocking."

"Wait a minute, what's happening?" Provenza asked when the Rays coach trotted out to the pitcher's mound. "Surely, he's not taking out Snell? He's only allowed two hits all night!"

Andy shrugged. "I wouldn't complain. He's made our guys look like they've never held a bat before."

Provenza sipped his wine. "I'm not complaining, either, but this would have to be the dumbest call—yep, there he goes. This is about to be a gamechanger…He's putting Anderson in? He's been pathetic all month!"

"Did Cash bet against his own team or something?" Andy asked. "It's like he's trying to lose this game."

True to their prediction, Betts almost immediately hit a double down the left field line. After a wild pitch and another hit, the score had turned from a 1-0 deficit to a 2-1 lead in just a few plays.

"There are the boys I know and love," Sharon commented, finishing off her glass of wine and pouring another.

By the last inning, with the Dodgers up by two and one out away from winning the game, Provenza massaged two fingers against his chest. "I don't know if it's the wine or this game that's giving me heartburn. Do you know where my little purple pills are?" He asked Patrice.

"Yeah, in the cabinet right beside your little blue ones," Patrice answered, without hesitation.

"A simple yes would've sufficed," Provenza grumbled.

Andy laughed, and Sharon just focused on her wine glass, trying not to laugh, herself. "I hope there's some Xanax in there somewhere, too," Sharon whispered to Patrice.

"No, that's in my purse." Patrice rolled her eyes. "I'm not above crushing some into his wine glass when he leaves it unattended."

Rusty looked confused. "What's the big deal about blue pills—oh, gross," he whined, connecting the dots.

"Okay, come on, one more strike," Sharon murmured, looking back at the TV. "All right!" Everyone except Rusty jumped up and cheered, yelling and high-fiving. Rusty didn't get the baseball obsession and just watched.

"As much as I'd love to stay and celebrate, it's time to shift the focus to a different variety of balls," Provenza said, indicating for Patrice to get up. "If we don't get home soon, I really might need one of those blue pills, but we're celebrating, one way or the other."

"Do we have to hear this?" Rusty complained.

"It can't be unheard," Andy lamented. "There goes any desire I had to celebrate." Patrice's Viagra jab had been funny, but the following dialogue had been a boner-killer if he'd ever heard one.

"Ewwww, not you, too!" Rusty fled into the house before his gag reflex could be tested any further.

Sharon, a little affected by the night's wine consumption, just laughed helplessly at Provenza's eagerness to get home and Andy's and Rusty's disgust. When the Provenzas were gone, she ran a bath and got one more glass of wine. She'd expected Andy to join her in the bath, as she hadn't thought he'd been serious about his own desire to "celebrate" being gone, but when she got out and found him reading in bed, she was a little disappointed. Still wrapped in her robe, she nibbled at his ear and moved to his neck, thinking she just needed to get things started herself, but Andy shook his head. "Not tonight. I won't be able to do anything without Provenza being in my head, and that's just weird."

"Oh, come on, Andy, the Dodgers just won the World Series for the first time in decades, and in the same month as an NBA championship! When will we have this chance again?"

"I don't know, but not tonight," Andy answered dramatically.

"You can call all the shots," Sharon pleaded. "Whatever you want."

Andy shook his head, unmoved.

Sharon shrugged. "All right, fine." The question wasn't whether or not they were having sex tonight, she would see to it that they did, the question was just how to get there. Her first impulse was to reach for the navy chemise that he could never resist, but something about the situation wanted her to make it a little more challenging than that. Instead, she pulled one of Andy's Dodger's t-shirts over her head and slipped on a pair of panties she knew he loved. "I'm cleaning out my closet tomorrow, so I'm going to go ahead and rearrange some things if we're not doing anything else."

Seeing that Sharon was just in one of his old t-shirts, Andy was relieved that she wasn't going to try to seduce him, so he let his guard down. He went back to his book, but couldn't help but watch her out of the corner of his eye. Damn, those legs. They fucked him over every damn time. He admittedly quivered a bit when she stood on her tiptoes and reached for something at the top of her closet and he could see the lacy, rose-colored panties he loved for her to wear peeking out from under the hem of his t-shirt. Closing his book, his attention was now on her entirely, as he still felt safe from her trying to get him in the mood. He could just enjoy the view and leave it at that. Or not. He was done for when she bent over to put something on a bottom shelf. "All right, fine, you win. Let's do it."

Sharon turned to look at him, wide-eyed and the picture of innocence. "What? I think if I've put on an old t-shirt and am cleaning out my closet, you can assume that the moment has passed."

"Please," it was Andy's turn to beg, "whatever you want. And I'll make sure you finish, one way or the other."

Sharon pretended to think it over. "I mean, if you really want to…"

"Yes. Please. And I'll do the dishes and laundry for a week. And I'll wear that godawful chimney sweep costume for Halloween."

"Deal." Sharon bit back a smile as she pulled her t-shirt over her head. Did she know this man, or what? He was so damn easy.

The next morning, Sharon woke up in Andy's arms, which didn't happen all that often. She wasn't a cuddly sleeper, much to Andy's dismay, but she hadn't had the energy to push him off of her during the night.

"Hey," Andy mumbled, feeling her start to stir against him. Eyes still closed, he tightened his arms around her and pulled her closer to him.

"Hey." Sharon yawned and nuzzled into his shoulder. "I'm still a little weak in the knees after last night, I've gotta say."

Andy kissed the top of her head. "That makes two of us. Damn. We even scared Poppy out of the room."

MCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMC

On Halloween morning, Sharon was reading in the swing on the porch while Rusty studied at the table nearby. Andy walked up the back steps after working in the yard. "What do you want to do for lunch?"

Sharon looked at her watch. "It's 10:00, honey, I haven't gotten that far yet."

"It's only 10:00?" Andy wasn't adjusting to retirement very well. Being confined to the house did not suit him at all. Sharon wasn't a sedentary person, by any means, but she was better at finding things to do and setting personal goals for herself to keep her occupied than he was. She'd been exercising and meditating more than she'd ever had time for before, and while Andy worked out, he still had trouble filling his days.

"Afraid so." Sharon eyed the pumpkins lining the porch steps. "Why don't we carve the pumpkins? That'll be fun, and it'll take some time."

"Anything to distract me from Trademark Law," Rusty agreed. "I'm about to lose my damn mind."

Andy shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"Nothing gross, Andy," Rusty warned.

Andy tilted his head. "So breasts are out of the question?"

"Mo-om!" Rusty complained.

Sharon rolled her eyes. "Both of you, stop torturing each other!" They had been driving her insane for the last few months.

A little while later, Andy was the last to finish his pumpkin. Sharon and Rusty had taken traditional approaches, but Andy had taken a different direction. "This is my general attitude toward this whole year," he grinned, turning his pumpkin around.

"Wha—Andy!" Sharon shrieked with laughter when she saw "fuck off" carved into his pumpkin. "But you're not wrong about that."

Late that afternoon, Sharon was putting the finishing touches on her Mary Poppins costume. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I miss last year's costume arrangement," Andy lamented, referencing a bet he'd lost with his commanding officer which resulted in a terrible costume for him, but a low-cut, form-fitting dress of a costume for Sharon, which he was always on board for. There was no party this year, but they were planning to sit at the end of their driveway with their neighbors and cocktails for those who imbibed, which was about as close to a costume party as they could get. "Was there not at least a sexy Mary Poppins option?" he whined, indicating her high-necked white blouse and knee-length black skirt. "Halloween is a good excuse to get away with being revealing, but I'm getting nothing from this."

"Oh, really? I guess that makes my night a little less taxing, then." Sharon leaned closer to the bathroom mirror to apply her lipstick. Shocking no one, Andy had honed in on her ass and otherwise barely seemed to notice she was in the room. He was so full of shit. Men. She gave him a knowing look. "But you know you can always sweep my chimney any time."

#Major Crimes #Major Crimes fanfiction #Major Crimes fanfic #Shandy #mikuscfanfic

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myheadinthecloudsnotcomingdown · 4 years

Note

Hi!! So I’m a really big fan of both your quirkless!izuku fics and was wondering if you had any recommendations for similar stories? I dont have a preference for either villain or hero Izuku, or any particular pairing, I’m just looking for well written multi-chapter fix’s to see me through the apocalypse.

So, I have taken this ask as a challenge!

Quirkless Apocalypse (Over 50,000 words)

*WIP

Sorry most of these are WIPs, but I just went through my bookmarks and picked out some of my favorites.

Entropy*

Maybe it was All Might's betrayal that finally broke him. Maybe it was the torment from his friends, day in and day out, or the crushing weight of society's collective dismissal of his existence. The reason isn't important anymore- only the consequences. Two years after he and three other students vanished from U.A., Midoriya Izuku is the leader of the fastest-growing group of villains in Japan, and no one is left to stand in his way- no one aside from All Might's successor, the next Symbol of Peace.

All orderly systems descend into chaos. No one is immune to entropy, heroes least of all.

One of my favorite villain fics, basically Izuku becoming worse than the league of villains ever was.

Four Makes One Team*

“Kacchan,” Izuku said, getting the attention of the boy beside him. “What if I don’t want to be a hero?”

Izuku spoke as if he was setting the world on fire. As if he’d broken time in half and let the fabric of the universe collapse like a folding chair.

Katsuki twitched. “Then what else do you want to be?” There was a tinge of anger in Katsuki’s words, the hint of a shout tipping each consonant.

“Well,” Izuku scratched his neck, eyes locked on the stars attached to the ceiling that shown an odd neon yellow in the afternoon light. “Well, what if I wanted to help heroes or something instead.”

(Where Izuku decides he wants to be hero support, learns computer code, and digs way to deep into a villain case all for the sake of teamwork.)

Basically, Izuku and Katsuki meet some other canon characters as kids and basically become genius vigilantes.

Subject: A Comprehensive Report*

Izuku decides early on that heroics is not the only path to heroism.

I did not know that I needed parental Nighteye, but I definitely did.

Finding Abandoned Hope*

Nothing in life was fair. Some people just had more luck than others. Midoriya Izuku was not one of those people. He learned that the hard way.

Not everyone gets good quirks. Not every quirk is accepted by people. This was a cruel and unforgiving world and Shinso Hitoshi knew that quite well.

Together, maybe they can have the life they both want.

Runaways, Vigilantes, Dadzawa. What else could you ask for?

Ripples on Deep Water*

Midoriya Izuku didn’t expect much from life. He knew it expected everything of him, and he was always trying to rise up and meet that challenge.Except for one little mutation in his genes that made all the difference.Except for one little change in the route home after a pretty depressing day.Or:When All Might crushes Izuku’s dreams, he crosses the path of someone who rebuilds them. Izuku’s going to be a hero... even if it won’t be exactly as planned.Or:How the tiniest wingbeat of a butterfly over the still ocean brings tsunamis to distant lands.

Izuku meets Mei at the right moment and basically keeps his dream alive. Support!Deku with an eye toward the hero course.

Black Rabbit*

For most people, waking up in the secret base of one of Japan's most wanted vigilantes would probably be terrifying. For Shouto Todoroki it ends up being first stroke of luck he's ever had. Black Rabbit is nothing like the rumors and ends up being his first real friend. For once in his life Todoroki feels like someone actually cares about and supports him, Black rabbit going as far as to get him a new identity so he wouldn't have to go back to Endeavor. It also helps that, on top of being the embodiment of sunshine personality wise, under the mask Black Rabbit is the gosh darn cutest boy Todoroki has ever laid eyes on.

Izuku Midoriya is the vigilante known as Black Rabbit. Pros all over Japan have tried to catch him but all have failed. Nothing is known about him and he's been doing this for years, living in his secret base alone. He never had a friend until he rescued Todoroki. It's a relief and a blessing to finally have someone who knows him out of the mask and likes him as a person. There's a personal connection and closeness between them that he's never had before and he'll follow it as far as it takes him.

Now if they can only keep their respective identities a secret while attending UA

Vigilante!Deku with a healthy helping of Dadzawa and some sweet TodoDeku on the side.

Who said the only thing green about him is his hair?*

All Might isn't able to get away from the reporters after saving Bakugou and Midoriya during the sludge incident.

Midoriya Izuku, without motivation, Bakugou's words of suicide ringing through his head. He makes a decision, something that wouldn't ruin Bakuguou's chances of becoming a hero, something where he could get away from everything that was hurting.

Izuku decides to run away. Impulsive and hasty, desperate and in shock, he decides that running away and surviving would hurt less than any other option when reality hits him full force.

Runaway!Deku, enough said.

Swan Dive*

The Slime Villain Incident, and the events leading up to it happen one year earlier. Izuku, broken and lost in the face of All Might's words, decides to take Kacchan's advice. But a familiar Underground Hero won't let a young life end so quickly. How will a simple right-place-right time scenario change things?

OR:

Aizawa Shouta saves the life of Midoriya Izuku and finds himself with a new apprentice and surrounded by a quickly growing family circle. What has he gotten himself into? Heavy Dadzawa and Dadmic. Auntie Nemuri and eventual redeemed Bakugo.

The sweetness! The trauma! This fic will definitely punch you in the heart in more ways than one.

I’m Here*

What if All Might never dropped that bottle...? There was never a chance to prove himself. Midoriya never became a hero. Take a dive off the roof of the building, that's what Bakugo wanted, right? But a stranger stops him and gives him a new dream for the future. A boy's descent into madness and obsession but not without finding a family amongst a number of misfits. To kill some major league heroes. It's all they want to do and change society. What's the cost?

Insane!Villain!Deku. Literal chills, seriously. It definatly gets dark, so be ready for that. Also the league of villains as family and obsessive TodoDeku.

I’m Doing This For Them*

Izuku always wanted to be a hero, but without a quirk almost everyone he met said that was impossible, but Izuku's stubborn and he never took no for an answer. So he decides to take his dream into his own hands and do the impossible. Even if he can't legally become a hero what's to stop him from doing it illegally?

A lie-detecting detective, a purple-haired kid, and an insomniac pro hero, that's who.

Izuku decides to try his luck at becoming a vigilante and subsequently annoys the shit out of everyone he meets.

Sassy Viligante!Deku, EraserMic with Shinso, basically so much family!

The Yakuza isn’t that bad*

After Izuku was told by his idol that he can't be a hero without a quirk, he realized something. This world, where the quirked do whatever they want, and the quirkless are treated as less than human, is flawed. And what better way to repair a flawed world than returning it to when it wasn't?

Do you want Mafia!Deku? Very unique fic about Izuku taking over Overhaul’s operation (don’t worry about Eri, she’ll be fine) and pursuing a quirkless world.

Independence*

All Might is the number one hero, and has a beautiful wife, they are a beautiful, loving family. What no one knows is they have a quirkless son. When telling he him he can’t be a hero, Midoriya Izuku takes fate into his own hands, and tries to warn his parents he isn’t going to listen is the silliest of ways. He is still planning to be the best hero, even if he has to tear apart the society norms around him.

Bad bio-dadmight. Izuku is basically running on sheer spite at this point and it’s working.

Nii-Chan! Nii-Chan!*

Aizawa Shouta is a teen who lives by the rules of logic and rationality, in his second year of Yuuei. When his parents kick him out when discovering he has a boyfriend, he finds himself alone on the street.

Midoriya Inko lives in a small flat with her young and only son after her ex-husband ran learning she was pregnant. With Mother and Son sharing a huge heart with un-measurable amounts of love, they find and help Aizawa.

With a new Mom and a little Brother, Aizawa finally has a family to be proud of.

How much found family can we incorporate into one story? The answer is a lot more than you’d think. Basically once Izuku adopts someone, they are family. Lots of fluff.

Erased Potential*

Midoriya Izuku, determined to become a hero before ever meeting All Might, looks for another way. He might not have a quirk, but that can’t be all that being a hero is about. He has the intelligence, the drive, the determination. All he needs now is to know how to use it. Enter Aizawa Shouta.

Pretty much my favorite Dadzawa fic.

Net Neutrality (series)

I feel like this should be included even if each fic isn’t over 50,000 words. Info Broker!Deku and Vigilante!Deku with Eri getting the love she deserves. This inspired some parts of Mastermind, actually.

One-Choice: Vigilante*

Time is a funny thing, the way even a single choice can change the world forever. Every single choice can turn the course of fate in unexpected directions.

Midoriya Izuku always wanted to be a hero. Ever since he was a child, he wanted to be someone who saves other with a fearless smile. But when his world comes crashing down around him, when even the tiniest spark of hope is crashed, what would he do?

This entire series is really good. It’s basically another take on what I’m doing with my For the Want of a Nail series.

Secondary Colors*

"You got pushed down the stairs... and you're apologizing for it," he stated blandly. "That seems counterintuitive.""Um... sorry?" Izuku whispered. He was starting to shake a little, adrenaline flooding his veins and leaving him cold. He had no idea what Purple was going for with his blunt statements and the hand reaching toward his shoulder as if to steady him, but apologizing was generally safe."You don't have to apologize, dude. I don't know your name, but I doubt it's actually Deku.""Um. Midoriya." Izuku peered sideways at Purple as they rounded the corner. "Izuku Midoriya. Deku is just, um, just what my... friends call me." He winced."Sounds real friendly."

Izuku and Shinso are best friends with a lot of Dadzawa and Dadmic.

Pied Piper*

If they wouldn’t give him a chance then the solution seemed simple, he’d give himself one. He’d force the world to see him, force them to recognize his hard work. He wasn’t missing a quirk, it was simply that everyone else had been given an advantage. He wasn’t broken, or useless, or incapable, and he’d prove it by outrunning all of them, he who was quirkless, he who had started in last.

One of my favorite Vigilante!Deku fics, hands down. Izuku is an absolute mad lad in this.

We Don’t Need No Fuckin’ Heroes*

Almost half a year before Izuku's fated meeting with the Slime Villain, our protagonist finds himself running away from his fears.But instead of letting his fears overtake him and drag him back down to the darkness where they think he belongs, he finds friendship in the most unusual places and with the help of his friends they all claw their way up into the light where they want to be and where they truly belong.

Have you ever wondered what would happen if Izuku met Dabi and Toga before they could join the league of villains? Amazing Vigilante!Deku

Detective Midoriya*

After the sludge incident, Izuku Midoriya's dream was officially crushed. However, a later experience takes the boy in a new direction. Izuku had never really contemplated being a detective, but his whole life he'd only ever wanted to help people with a smile on his face. Thanks to some luck and an entire police station, Izuku's dream is reborn.

Izuku joins the police force and basically proves that he’s as amazing as we all know he is.

There is No Such Thing as Competely Forgiven

Deku doesn't become a hero, though he might be considered one to people that have been rejected by society. He can be petty, twisted, and is loyal to a fault. That hardly makes him evil. No, he just knows the worlds got to change and he can't do that from a side that praises people like Bakagou Katsuki and All Might. He also would love nothing better than to get even with a few people that ruined his life...

Katsuki knows that he is the reason that Deku is dead. He just can hope one day he can forgive himself and that others can as well for the role he played in it. He needs to make the world a better place, one that Izuku would have wanted. He needs to be a hero that does more than punch villains in the face. But its really hard to be a needed change when he can't trust most of his own decisions are the right ones.

One of my favorite villian!Deku fics of all time, mostly because of the found family stuff it’s got going on with the league. It’s also got a sequel if you want more.

A Deadman’s Gun

“I—“ Izuku hesitated, gaping wordlessly, before admitting softly. “I don’t know. I just don’t want to go home. There’s nothing for me, there.”

“So you filled this hole by playing detective— And how long is that going to last, I wonder?” Stain replied, still massaging his chin. “But you— You have potential.”

Izuku blinked at Stain’s chest, before looking up. “Excuse me?”

“What a waste would it be, to let you become a red splatter on the sidewalk.” Stain continued, almost contemplating. “No. No, kid, what you need is a new purpose. Your old one is gone? Well, time to get off your ass and find something else—“

Ok, there need to be more parental Stain fics in this fandom, because this is absolutely amazing!

Hero Class Civil Warfare

Heroes lead by Bakugo.Villains lead by Midoriya.Seven days prep time.Three days for Izuku Midoriya to show why they should be glad he's not a real villain.

Ok! Ok! I know this isn’t Quirkless!Deku but I have to include it because it’s a classic and it’s pretty similar to my fics, so I know you’ll love it anyway. It focuses on Izuku’s intelligence rather than his quirk.

#fic recs #ask #quarentine #long fics #quirkless izuku #my favorites

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hellas-himself · 4 years

Text

More Than Enough

Remember that self indulgent crack ship holiday fic I was writing about Cassian and Feyre? And how I couldn’t seem to mix the past with the present?

It’s a fic now. Still in the same AU just like... the year before. Leading up to the cheesy ass nonsense it is now. Originally it was going to be angsty at first but I think we have enough of that in our real life. If you haven’t read the crackship holidays featuring these two dumbasses, start here or on AO3.

Also. I promise all my other fics are not being abandoned.

I’ve had a playlist to listen to when writing them but it is so incredibly inappropriate if you understand spanish. and i haven’t made it onto spotify yet. But this song reminded me of them and that’s where the title comes from. Which is funny because Alina is who i put beside Toni Mafud as Rhys and Feyre whenever fan casts come up. ANYWAY.

Let’s follow Feyre as she thirsts after her best friend.

I blame it on the music.

Cassian lost his shirt about half an hour ago and is doing pull ups. The garage door is open, letting in the cold winter air. My fingers are cold but I don’t like wearing gloves when sketching. I had been working on hands and eyes but once he tossed his shirt… It’s not like I’ve never seen Cassian without a shirt on before. Between him and his brothers, they seem to always find an excuse to not wear one. But the difference is I don’t find myself daydreaming about what it would be like to run my fingers down their backs.

It’s definitely the music.

Even if I didn’t understand the words, the beat itself is way too sensual to not be about anything else but sex. But the lyrics and Cassian’s sweaty, half naked body mixed with the fact that I haven’t had sex in months is probably the worst mix. I am not supposed to be imagining sleeping with my best friend.

I clear my throat, startling Valo who was falling asleep at my feet.

“Sorry, baby, I need a drink.”

I set my sketch book and pencil down on the crate beside my chair.

“Would you get me a drink, bunny?” Cas breathes out and my face flushes all the more. I didn’t need another detail to this stupid daydream.

“Yeah,” I squeak and head into the house. I already know his post workout drink recipe by heart. I drink ice cold water while the blender is going.

Cassian is suspended in the air, holding his entire body parallel to the floor with his hands. Goddamn him. He drops his head back so that he’s looking at me upside down and he smiles.

“I love you,” he says and I roll my eyes.

“I’ll love you more if you don’t bust your ass.”

He chuckles and just to drive the nail in the coffin that is my desire to be the reason he’s making noises like that, he slowly lowers his body and resumes his pull ups. I set his cup on the table where he has his tools and go back to sit down.

Cassian drops down and walks over to his mat to do his cool down stretches. A new song comes on and the words are so filthy that I find myself staring at him. His tattoos. My ex-boyfriend had always believed I was into Cassian- and I wasn’t. But I wasn’t blind and I’ve been at his house almost every single day since Thanksgiving- he is always without a shirt.

It’s just the music.

“Plan on drawing me?” Cassian asks and I blink. I look away from his tattooed chest and to his face. He is smirking. Shit.

“Uh. Yeah. What better way to do anatomy studies than with a living reference?”

“Anatomy, huh?”

He flashes me a grin before he walks over to the table for his drink.

“Hey, what do you want for dinner?”

His question distracts me from looking at his ass.

“Uh, whatever you want… I’m not really craving anything.” Except you. I sigh and cover my face with my hands and lean over. I need a cold shower.

“Hey… You alright?” he asks softly.

I nod and slowly sit upright.

“I’m just… I’m fine. I promise.”

He doesn’t believe me but he walks over to grab his speaker.

“I love this song,” he says and starts to sing along to it as he gratefully goes back into the house.

Cassian meets me in the living room now dressed in a white tee and grey sweatpants. He lifts both my legs up so that he can sit down. This is normal. I always use his lap to rest my legs.

“I ordered Greek, I hope you don’t mind.”

“I told you, I’m not craving anything except-”

Fuck my entire life. Cassian raises a brow and I toss him the remote.

“Why don’t we finish your show so then we can watch my movie?”

This pacifies him and thankfully, his stupid show is so violent and bloody that all thoughts of fucking my best friend fade from my mind.

Our annual Christmas party is tonight and I’ve found an outfit. It is the kind of outfit Tamlin would have told me not to wear. It’s blood red and insanely inappropriate for winter with its spaghetti straps and super low neckline. Mor says it’s the perfect thing to wear after a break up and just the thought of all the pictures we’ll take with me and Cassian together makes me believe it.

I hang the dress up in the closet of Cassian’s bedroom. The heels are set beside his dress shoes and I can’t help but think about his reaction. Of dancing with him all night and coming back here and-

“Bunny!”

“I’m in the closet!”

I hear him chuckle.

“Shut up,” I call out and walk into the bedroom to find him pulling off his shirt. I feel my face go hot.

“I’m going to shower… do you want me to use the other bathroom?”

“What? No, this is your house,” I say far more casually than I feel. “Besides, we’ve got time, we can share.”

I want to punch myself in the face. Cassian starts to grin.

“The shower might be a little too small for the both of us but I’m sure we could find a way to-”

Cassian laughs when I smack his arm.

“Not exactly where I like being spanked but I’ll take it.”

“Oh my god, Cassian.”

He laughs and disappears into the bathroom. I force myself to leave the room when I hear the water.

Cassian walks into the kitchen in nothing but a towel, his hair wet, water dripping down his chest. He walks over and takes the sandwich from my hands.

“Fuck, we’re out of beer,” he mutters as he opens the fridge. I grab the second sandwich I made, expecting him to steal from my plate and force my gaze up. On his stupidly gorgeous face.

“I can go get some,” I say but he shakes his head and walks over to take my cup of iced tea.

“Are you cool with us taking a cab tonight?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess.”

Cassian drinks from my cup and sets it down before pinching my cheek.

“It’ll just be you and me,” he says softly. “So don’t worry about it.”

I blush at this and Cassian kisses my forehead.

“I’m gonna go get dressed. Thanks for the snack,” he says with a wink and walks away.

I keep my makeup rather muted; lip gloss and the usual winged liner. Nude eyeshadow. Cassian picked out the highlight and I have to admit, he chose well. My hair isn’t going to get any better, so I leave it in loose waves rather than the curls I’d wanted. I’ll leave that to Mor. I feel nervous, this is the first time since the breakup that I’m going out with all of our friends but Cassian will be there, and that’s enough to ease my nerves. Almost.

“Our ride is here,” Cas says as he walks into his bedroom. He stops and just stares. I approach him and hold out my ID card and debit card, needing to ignore the way his attention has me feeling.

“I don’t have pockets.”

“What?” He blinks and looks down at my hand. He laughs and pulls his wallet out. “You only need your ID.”

“Maybe so,” I say and reach out to smooth down the collar of his shirt while he puts my cards away. I remember my lip gloss and put it in his back pocket, giving him a wink.

Cassian holds my hand when we go outside, helping me down the steps and the driveway. It’s a regular occurrence, but I blush when he opens the door for me. And when he slides an arm around my shoulders when he sits down beside me. We take a bunch of pictures and call Cassian’s parents to check on Val- as if we hadn’t seen him an hour ago.

When we get to the club, Cassian holds my hand as we walk inside. Cassian and the boys are all friends with the owner, so we get to skip the line.

“Where are we going?” I ask as Cassian leads us up to the VIP lounge.

“Meeting up with Rhys.”

“What’s he doing up here?”

Cassian chuckles. “You know Rhys never passes a chance to be extra as fuck.”

I can’t argue with that.

Upstairs, Cassian helps me out of my coat. His fingers brush my skin and my mind takes a swan dive into the gutter.

“What do you say to a few drinks before we go downstairs?” he asks as he takes my hand. The bouncer outside the lounge acknowledges us with a nod.

“Yeah, I could use it.”

Cassian flashes me a grin and then opens the door.

“SURPRISE!” Everyone shouts and I find all of our friends standing under a Happy Birthday banner.

I am at a loss for words and Cassian laughs, bringing me further into the room. I’d completely forgotten about my birthday, I hadn’t cared enough to even think that anyone else would. But Elain is here with Az. So is Rhys and Lucien, Amren, Varian. Viv and Kallias, too. I’m separated from Cassian as I’m hugged and kissed by everyone. I realize Tarquin and Cresseida are here as well. Rhys is the one who breaks open the first bottle and we all stand around the little table to take shots.

“There is a cake,” Elain says as she hands me another shot. “But that’s later.”

“Later?”

She winks at me and shouts for Azriel.

“That’s my favorite song!” she exclaims and her husband happily ditches his brothers to go out and dance with his wife.

Lucien and Rhys pull me in for another hug as the others begin to trail down to the dance floor.

“You look good enough to eat,” Lucien mumbles and I laugh.

“Don’t tell me you’re already drunk, Luce.”

“We may have pregamed at the house,” Rhys admits. “But we took an uber! It’s okay.”

I roll my eyes.

“You both suck. I’m going to go find me two other cute boys to dance with. Boys who would have invited me to pregame with them and no amount of flirting is going to fix that.”

They begin to whine and I laugh, holding onto Rhysand’s forearms as they keep me caged between them.

“Alright! You win!” I say with a laugh and look over to find Cassian looking my way. He smiles.

I want to ask him to dance but Mor pulls him away before I can open my mouth.

We drink and dance and drink and dance and drink some more. I feel light headed and everything makes me laugh. But I haven’t danced with Cassian yet and that’s enough to dampen the mood. I push my way through the crowd until I find Cassian at the bar. I take the empty barstool beside him and sit down. I order myself a margarita before turning to face him.

“And where have you been all night?” I ask and Cassian smirks.

“Enjoying the night,” he says and takes a sip of his drink.

“Without me?”

I don’t understand the look in his eyes as he takes a sip of his drink. He sets the glass down and leans forward. I didn’t really understand just how short this dress was until he lays his hand on my thigh. If I turn my chair completely, if he moves his hand just an inch more…

“Yes,” he says and kisses me cheek. “But I think I’m about to enjoy it more now.”

“Why?” I manage to say. Cassian’s hand brushes my thigh as he sits upright.

“I’m about to go dance with my best friend.”

“Are you now?”

My drink is set before me and I grab it, chugging it down as Cassian slides off his chair. He turns mine so that I’m facing him completely and puts his hands on my hips.

“If she says yes, of course.”

I finish the last of my drink and set down the glass.

“When have I ever said no to you?”

Cassian grins.

I have danced with Cassian many times. At parties, at the beach, at clubs and bars and festivals. At his parents’ house. I should be used to the feeling of his body against mine, of his hands on me while we dance but not like this. I want nothing more than to take him back up to the lounge and push him down on the sofa or go find an empty bathroom stall.

But I don’t.

Birthday cake and alcohol isn’t the best mix, but I haven’t felt this alive in months. My face hurts from laughing, from smiling. My vision is spotty from all the pictures we’ve taken but I don’t care. Everything is right in the world.

“My feet hurt,” I complain and sit on Cassian’s lap.

“Want me to rub your feet?”

I shake my head and lean into him.

“No. Not until I’m showered.”

He laughs. “Okay.”

I sigh when he wraps his arms around me. He is so warm and smells so good, I want to stay this way forever.

“I think the birthday girl is done for the night,” Rhys says teasingly and I realize I was dozing off. I look up to see Rhys standing there with a stupid smirk on his face.

“Fuck you,” I say and curl up in Cassian’s arms. I feel his hand holding my dress down from showing everyone else my ass.

“Tempting,” Rhys says and then shoves his hands in his pockets. “But I think I’ll pass.”

I don’t think much of the look Rhys gives Cassian in favor of playing with his hair. I take way too much satisfaction in the knowledge that not everyone gets to do this, and that he enjoys it. Cassian seems to win whatever silent staring contest he and Rhys were having and Rhys rolls his eyes and goes after his boyfriend.

“You’re making me sleepy, bunny.”

“Good thing we’re going home together then,” I say before my mind catches up. But Cassian only chuckles and hugs me a little closer.

Cassian and I are a laughing mess as we stumble into the house. I lean on him to step out of my heels and he laughs as I shrug off my coat and toss it at him. We’re both trying to catch our breath, and I swat his hand away when he tries to tickle me again.

“I’m taking a shower,” I breathe out and walk off but he stops me.

“Wait,” he says and I turn to find him smiling.

“What?”

“Happy birthday,” he says softly and pulls me in for a hug. “I promise I’ll make you breakfast in the morning.”

“Hm… you really know the way to a girl’s heart, Cas.”

He pinches my side and I yelp.

“Go shower,” he says and kisses the top of my head.

“I won’t be long.”

My shower is clumsy and not at all relaxing. My feet hurt. So I put lotion on my body and grab the bottle of perfume that is on the dresser, except it’s not perfume but cologne. I shrug and put on Cassian’s Nirvana tee shirt and double check I actually have underwear on before I go looking for him.

“Cas?” The house is dark save for the light coming from his room. “My feet fucking hurt.”

He says something but I don’t understand it. His room is open and I step inside, finding him lying on his bed. He’s got basketball shorts on and his hair is loose.

“Bunny!” he says as if he hadn’t seen me all day. “I almost busted my ass in the shower.”

“Me, too.” I say with a laugh. “Maybe we should’ve showered together. It would’ve been safer that way.”

“I like the way you think, Archeron.”

He holds his hand out to me and when I’m close enough, he pulls me into bed with him. “You smell good.”

I snort. “I smell like you.”

“Exactly.”

I swat his arm but he ignores it, putting his arms around me.

“My feet hurt,” I complain, hoping he’ll make good on his promise.

“Just stay here,” he says simply.

My heart stops and starts too fast.

“Like… sleep here?” I ask too quietly.

“Mhm.” He goes quiet for a moment and then groans. “I forgot to turn the light off.”

“I can do it,” I say.

“No… Stay here.”

He goes quiet once more, and I let myself relax. We haven’t shared a bed since we were kids, playing video games until Adela would force us to go to bed. I smile at the thought and rest my head against his chest.

“Goodnight, Cas,” I say quietly, my eyes getting heavy.

“Goodnight, bunny,” he says and lets me go to stretch. Then he wraps his arms around me again and moves us so that we’re on our sides. He presses a kiss to my forehead and I close my eyes, letting the warmth of him lull me to sleep.

@mythicaitt @bookloveaffair @nalgenewhore @candid-confetti

#more than enough #cassian x feyre #crackship #and absolute self indulgence #him calling her bunny will be the end of me #i dont care what's canon #or that feyrhycien is everything to me

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maybemitch · 4 years

Text

UNREQUITED LOVE | MITSIM, #twdgmaygame

━━━⋆☆⋆━━━

Hi, this is apart of the #twdgmaygame which is hosted by @stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale. It’s fun! You should check out their page! And look out for the June Game!

Most of it sounds forced as hell to others, but it didn’t too me.

Also! In this one shot, there is a mention of an OC character. They belong to me and are related a fic I am writing! Sorry for confusion

━━━⋆☆⋆━━━

“Hey, Brody?” Aasim whispered into the darkness of his dormitory. With a sigh, he pulled himself up, his arms wrapping tightly over his chest, trapping his body heat. His eyes wondered, landing on the bunk above; his best friend was probably sleeping up there. It had been Brody’s idea to stop the night in Aasims dorm room, she wanted to experience them again, she wanted it for nostalgia purposes. “Brody?” He whispered louder.

A humanly grunt echoed in the room. The bunk seemed as if it was screeching underneath the body weight of the person rolling over - Brody wasn’t a heavy girl, the beds were just beginning to rust away in the dreadful conditions they were put through.

“Do you reckon Mitch would ever go for someone like me?” Aasim asked shyly, his heart already racing rapidly in his chest at the thought of an answer. “I know you must be getting sick of me nagging you about it. But I trust you more than anyone.”

“Maybe you should just…” Brody's words became silent as she dropped her face back into her pillow, a light snore falling from her lips, whilst drool began to trail down her chin.

Aasim reached up to the bunk above, pushing roughly at the metal supporting the mattress, causing the girl to jerk out of her light snooze. With a gentle chuckle he spoke again, “English this time please?”

“Just ask him,” Brody mumbled, her eyes beginning to get heavy again, “Just… talk…” a yawn fell from her lips as he cuddled her pillow, “Let me sleep.”

Aasim sighed heavily and the next thing he knew, Brody had begun to climb down with a soft blanket draped over her shoulders. She looked at her best friend before sitting down on his bed and lying down. Aasim smiled fondly at her, before offering her his spare pillow which she snatched without hesitation.

“I don’t know why he wouldn’t like you,” Brody smiled as she rubbed her face, her words were laced with honesty and that was recognisable with the way her voice stayed at a constant pitch throughout. “You know, Mitch talks about you a lot of the time when we’re out hunting. Never shuts up at times. Drives Marlon insane half the time. Tells him to shut his bombhole of a mouth.”

“Yeah, but that’s Marlon for you, when was the last time he said something considerate about anyone?” Aasim laughed, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, “Himself isn’t included in that.”

“Touché,” Brody laughed lightly also, making sure not to be too loud or else everyone would be arsey with her in the morning, “But I mean it Aasim. Mitch talks about you.”

His lips fell as a bubbling feeling of rejection surfed through him, “How can you be sure it’s about me? I mean…” his arms gripped tightly at his body, “He has been getting closer to Nate… too close.”

Brody took notice of the sober gaze Aasim was casting to the fraying bedsheets. He was obviously in a doubt over his worth. It was only a matter of time until he shut himself up behind his journal for hours on end. With a sigh, she heaved herself up to look at him with a lopsided head, “Hey, look at me.”

Aasim did as asked.

“Get some shut eye and I’ll talk to him tomorrow.” Brody shot him a smile, the moonlight which seeped through the sealed off windows caught her eye, making her iris glisten. “I’ll be here when you wake up. As promised.”

Aasim nodded and lay down, with a smile he closed his eyes and drifted off into a slumber.

———

Brody didn’t speak to Mitch the next morning, or throughout the day for the matter of fact. She didn’t speak to him the following day. It had been almost a fortnight before she cornered the male and asked him about his friendship with Aasim, to which he replied vaguely to each question.

They had been out on a hunting trip, her, Mitch, Marlon and Nate. She had decided to make them split out into pairs, to which she snatched Mitch up right away and began to push him along the stream, the male only dragging his feet along behind him.

“Hey Brody!” Marlon called down the dirt path, the girl turned to look at the male, her eyebrow arched with a questioning look. “Meet back here in 20 minutes?” Marlon looked on edge - he always had recently. Although, Brody couldn’t blame him.

Brody nodded expeditiously as she averted her eyes back to MItch who had begun to walk away from the female and down the path to the fishing spots. Mitch had his hands shoved in his pockets, his shoulders slumped up and he kicked a stone with his breaking shoe.

Brody slowly follows in the older taller males footsteps, her shadow fitting in inside of Mitch’s. The sound of gravel being crushed underneath their shoe was all that was heard for a few minutes until they met the old shack.

“I’ll head inside and grab the spears,” Mitch huffed as he walked up the splintering stairs and into the old building. With a few seconds delay, Brody followed after him, slamming the door behind her.

Mitch jumped, the spears in his hand clattering down onto the floor, “What the fuck!” He shouted as he threw a glare towards the girl, “You don’t go sneaking up on people! You… Brody!”

“Oh calm down,” Brody rolled her eyes, leaning up against the door, “You are a baby at times. Walkers can’t open the doors with knobs, jackass.”

Mitch mimicked what she said as he sat down on the mattress in the old shack. Resting his legs upwards, he crossed his arms, only after wincing from the open wound on his left hand. “So now what?”

“What do you think of Aasim?” Brody asked as she smirked, her eyes analysing every body movement Mitch made, “You've known him for years now. So what’s your opinion on Aasim?”

Mitch shrugged, “I’ve told you. He’s my friend. Funny. Smart. A good friend,” Mitch lifted his gaze, looking over towards the girl, “What else do you want me to say?”

Brody hummed, “What do you feel for him?”

Mitch frowned, “I don’t know. He’s my friend. I…” Mitch looked at Brody and sighed, before standing up, “I don’t have feelings for him. Like he has for me if that’s what you're trying to get at.”

Brody was taken back. She had no idea how she was going to tell Aasim. She didn’t want to upset him nor hurt his feelings.

Mitch lowered his head, “I’m seeing Nate.” His voice was quiet and shaky. Mitch was never someone which admitted relationships. Licking his lips he continued, “It's new to me. I think I lo… yeah.. that word.”

“You love him?” Brody asked, a frown on her lips, “Oh… well… I wish you the best with Nate. I’ll be off.” She picked up a spear and left the old shack.

———

The group of four returned to the school at nightfall. Marlon was laughing as he walked through the gates, in a deep conversation with Nate and Mitch. Brody was walking in her own, a bucket of fish in her hands. With a frown, her eyes scouted the courtyard before walking up to Mitch’s side.

“So, Louis will be in the music room tonight,” Marlon told Nate and Mitch, “We managed to find some pretzels and some mints. We’re going to stay up late and sleep there for the night. You two in?” He asked as Roise came running home to him, nudging his legs for a fuss.

Nate looked at Mitch before nodding his head, “We will be there.” Nate smiled before crouching down to pet the dog too, “Any magazines there?”

Marlon shrugged, “I can probably find some in the confiscated section of the filing cabinet. I’ll have a look.” Marlon stood up, whistling causing Rosie to sit down, “Come with me, Nate.”

Mitch looked at his secret boyfriend and gave a nod, “Go.” He whispered, knowing that he wanted a confirmation from him. “I need to speak to Aasim for a while. I’ll catch up with you two later. I’ll probably end up carving something.”

Mitch began to walk away, not allowing Marlon or Nate to speak back to him. Brody had already disappeared, nowhere to be seen out in the courtyard and neither was Aasim. With a sigh, Mitch hurried himself along to the dormitory, before stopping before Aasims door and knocking timidly with his wounded hand.

He cursed at the stinging sensation which filled his left hand. A deep cut from the top of his index finger running down to the start of his wrist was on his hand, the stitches hand began to come out but that wasn’t his fault. They weren’t good anyways. He had been messing with his knife, before he slipped up and the blade piercing his skin.

Brody eventually swung open the door, a look of rage on her face as she looked to Mitch, “What do you want?” She asked harshly as she took a step outside of the room and shut the door so she could talk to Mitch in private. “I think Aasim doesn’t want you around him at the moment.”

Mitch frowned, “Just let me talk to him,” he pleaded, “You have no right to keep me from him. He has his own rights and I bet he wants to speak to me.”

“I can prove you wrong,” Brody smirked, but frowned before stepping aside, “I’m sorry. That’s not like me. Go ahead inside. Just… don’t hurt him. Because… I don’t want him to cry again. He might seem all happy and impossible to cry but you don’t know what happens behind his closed dormitory door.”

Mitch smiled at her as he walked into the room, shutting the door behind it. It was dark inside, an old blanket had been hung over the window acting as a curtain, no candles were lit, well that was probably because Aasim had a torch rather than a candle, the people at the school wanted him to stay safe still and not relapse.

“Hey Aasim.” MItch whispered as he sat down on the far end of the bed, allowing some space between them. His eyes were on his friend as he curled up, “Brody let me in. I hope you don’t mind. I want us to be friends still.”

Aasim didn’t speak to him, which caused Mitch to frown deeper. Mitch began to shift on the bed before sighing and standing up. Obviously Aasim didn’t want him here.

“I’m going to leave you alone.” Mitch sighed in defeat as he began to walk towards the door, his hand wrapping around the handle.

“Y-You don’t have to go…” Aasim whispered, his voice shook as he sniffed, looking over to Mitch from the shadows, “I-I actually like the company.”

Mitch looked over as Aasim began to move to the edge of the bed, patting the spot besides him, urging his friend to return to his side. Mitch didn’t hesitate as he walked back to sit besides Aasim, offering a timid smile to him.

Mitch looked down to his left wounded hand and traced down the stitches.

Aasim peered over his shoulder, “How long has that got left to heal?” He questioned.

Mitch shrugged, “Well, it’s going to take longer. Because Ruby will lecture me on reopening it.”

Aasim nodded with a frown, “Why did you come here?”

Mitch frowned, “Because. I know things aren’t exactly okay between us right now. And I’m sorry for certain things. But I want my friend. Even if I’m… with someone else.”

Aasim nodded, “I suppose we can’t always have what we want, right?”

MItch chuckled lightly, “In all honesty, you’re way out of my league.” Mitch watched as Aasim chuckled, “See, you agree.”

“Oh, I know I’m better than you.” Aasim joked.

#twdgmaygame #twdg mitch #twdg aasim #twdg mitsim #twdg mitch x aasim #telltale the walking dead final season #twdg season 4 #twdg s4 #twdg

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spaceskam · 5 years

Text

I Never Quite Let You Go

For @michaelguerinweek day 3: favorite michael dynamic (yes i stole this from the edit prompt, idk if this fits the fic prompt)

Summary: Everyone is struggling to deal with Michael and Rosa being friends.

ao3

Maria had no idea what she was going to find when she followed Michael’s hysterical directions.

It was all fine whenever he was playing the guitar and then he lost it. Something in him just snapped and he started freaking out, struggling to find his keys through his tears. Maria thought it was insane that he wanted to drive like that, but he insisted he had to go, so she offered to drive. Now, as they drove into the desert, she was regretting the offer.

She regretted it even more when he made her skid to a stop in a random place and jumped out while the car was still moving. She put the truck in park and ran after him, hoping to make sure he didn’t do anything too stupid.

A cave came into sight that he was barrelling towards and was able to catch up just as they stumbled inside. Maria froze as she saw a giant purple-blue glow with none other than Max Evans inside. What the hell?

“Papi?” The voice was unmistakable and Maria was again thrust into shock as she turned towards it. Rosa stood alive and breathing with a blanket in lieu of clothing. Before she could make a move, Michael ran to her. Rosa seemed to have no caution for modesty as she wrapped him in her arms, pulling him down to tuck his head under her chin. “You’re so old and scruffy, what the fuck.”

“How are you alive?” Maria whispered and Rosa just smiled, opening an arm for her. Maria easily molded into the hug, not even bothering that Michael was just a blubbering mess as he clutched onto her. She gave him an arm around him as well.

None of the made any sense but she was willing to accept it if it meant Rosa was here and hugging her.

“I can’t believe you.”

“Excuse me?”

Isobel shook her head as she watched Michael sip his coffee, going back and forth between giving her full attention and texting Rosa. It was so strange seeing him actually having a normal friendship with someone. They’d both insisted they were close in high school, but just no one noticed. Isobel feels like she would’ve noticed and that now they were just being more open about it rather than sneaking around.

“For a decade, you thought I killed your friend and you never said anything,” Isobel scoffed, shaking her head. She tried not to focus on how bad it hurt that he never mentioned it and was never allowed to grieve properly because of it.

Michael shrugged as if it didn’t matter. It mattered. “Look, there was nothing I could do. I knew you weren’t in your right mind and since she was dead, you and Max were all I had left. I needed to protect you, I couldn’t put my own feelings first.”

Her chest felt a sharp pang and she looked down at her own coffee. She hated that she never noticed. God, how had she never noticed?

“Rosa, seriously?”

Liz couldn’t help but be confused as Rosa watched Michael bend over the hood of the old car he’d found for her.

“What?” she laughed, “He got hot.”

“I can’t believe I never knew you two were even friends, much less close enough that you let a white boy call you 'Mami’,” Liz scoffed, shaking her head. Rosa shrugged and tilted her head as if it would give her a better view of his ass in his faded jeans.

“I keep good company,” she said and a smile broke out on her face, “Besides, it’s really funny when he says it.”

“Mami!” Michael called as if on cue, coming closer with sweat dripping down his bare chest. Liz couldn’t help but cringe as she heard Rosa sigh happily. “I forgot to tell you, I heard some old lady talkin’ about you.”

The two women raised their eyebrows in intrigue. “Do tell.”

“Apparently, the similarity between Elena Valenti and Rosa Ortecho has not gone unnoticed,” he grinned, leaning over her chair. Liz scrunched up her nose as they got close without a thought. She hated when they did that. She felt like she was intruding even though they insisted it was nothing more than friendship. “Heard that there’s a big theory that there’s some affair in the Valenti bloodline. No one even thinks it’s fishy.”

“Then it looks like Alex’s idea is working,” Rosa mused. Michael smiled wider at the name.

“Are we surprised?” he asked before dropping a kiss to her head which caused a smile. “Gonna go shower.”

“Are you sure it’s platonic? You know you can tell me,” Liz said seriously once he disappeared into the airstream. Rosa groaned, rolling her eyes.

“Yes, Liz, it’s nothing,” she insisted, “Michael is extremely into Alex and I have my eye on someone a little shorter and a little more woman. I think it’s bullshit that two people can’t be affectionate without it having to be something other than friendship.”

“I guess,” Liz said, though she still had her suspicions. She didn’t want anyone to get hurt because of the weird relationship between them. Still, Rosa shook her head.

“It’s not really a guess situation, Liz. That’s how it was when he was 16 and had never had anyone touch him that wasn’t violent. He deserves someone who doesn’t have ulterior motives and I don’t,” Rosa insisted, “Besides, I don’t have to defend my friendship.” Liz nodded despite remaining skeptical.

“Okay, you’re right.”

“Get out!”

“I am too fucking old to be thrown out of a girl’s bed by her dad, Valenti! Fuck off!”

Kyle was fuming as he watched Rosa laugh and Guerin hold a pillow over his head. All he was doing was trying to do his brotherly duties and wake her up so she wouldn’t be late for work, but he instead found her in bed with Guerin which was absolutely not okay. Rosa had no pants on and Guerin had no shirt or pants on and he did not approve.

“She is too young for you! She is 19! Get out!” Kyle yelled again, snatching the pillow away from him. Guerin made a face, rolling over.

“He literally stays over all the time, Kyle, calm down,” Rosa laughed. That did not calm him down.

“She is nineteen, Guerin!”

“We’re not fucking, holy shit.”

“You’re half-naked in her bed!”

“It’s 102 degrees outside!”

“I don’t care! Doesn’t give you the right to be in bed with a teenage girl!”

“I didn’t do anything! And if I did, multiple people, including my boyfriend, would probably skin me alive so leave me alone!” Guerin shouted, crossing his arms over his head. “And, by the way, no one said anything when she was 18 and I was barely 16 and sleeping half-naked in her bed, so I feel like there’s some double standards here!” Rosa pouted in adoration, reaching out to rub his back.

“You alright, Papi? Bad wake up call?” she cooed. Guerin simply whined in response. Kyle was about to lose it. “Also I’m technically 30, so…” Rosa said, giving him a wild smile. Kyle huffed and turned to storm out.

He was going to tell Alex about this.

“They’re friends, Kyle.”

“I’m annoyed by how calm you are.”

Alex chuckled, closing his laptop and sliding it into his backpack. He and Michael were going very slow and working their way to being solid friends before they did anything too crazy. They had had a long in-depth talk about how they wanted to go about things after Rosa and Maria had pressured Michael into making them actually talk. After that, it was super easy for Alex to stop feeling like either of them were a threat. Not that he liked that he felt that way in the first place, but he will admit that he did.

“They’re both consenting adults on top of it. Even without her literally dying, she’s almost 20 and she’s been through a lot. I think they’re good for each other,” Alex decided. At first, their relationship was a little uncomfortable, but Alex was probably the first one to realize that they related on a level Michael was lacking. It was good for him.

“I don’t like it, she’s my sister and he’s… Guerin,” Kyle said, looking disgusted. Alex smiled, shaking his head.

“He’s not that bad.”

“I don’t trust your judgment when it comes to him,” Kyle said. Alex shook his head, but let him continue to ramble. “He called you his boyfriend by the way.”

“Yeah?” Alex asked, a small smile pulling at his lips. They hadn’t really given anything a title, but they had agreed not to see anyone else while they tried to work with each other. The fact that he was considering a boyfriend made him feel a bit better.

“See, this is why I don’t trust your judgment!”

When Alex got home that night, he found both Michael and Rosa on his couch which had become pretty common these days. Alex had missed Rosa a lot, she was the first person to make him feel like he could be himself and say fuck it to whatever other people thought. He found it funny that while she was being that person for him, she was also that person for Michael. They could’ve so very easily been together earlier if Rosa’s two worlds had collided for a moment.

“I heard Kyle tried to throw you out this morning,” Alex chuckled, easily falling onto the couch between them.

“Which is why we’re on your couch and not his,” Michael noted. Alex smiled, shaking his head as Rosa tucked herself into his side.

“You’re just in time, though, ‘cause Papi made popcorn and it’s spooky movie season,” Rosa stated. Alex relaxed deeper into the couch with a nod, hearing his front door lock itself with the assistance of Michael’s brain. When Alex looked to him, his eyes went from Alex’s shoulder and back to his eyes. Alex threw his arm around the back of the couch and Michael took it as a go-ahead.

Alex ended up smashed in between the two of them, feeling each of them jump when lame scares would come on the screen. It was oddly comforting and he decided that this could become his normal and he didn’t think he’d mind.

Actually, he believed he loved it.

#mgweek19 #guerinweek19 #michael & rosa #michael & rosa fic #michael guerin #michael guerin fic #rosa ortecho #rosa ortecho fic #roswell new mexico #roswell new mexico fic #rnm #rnm fic

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lokilickedme · 5 years

Text

(Okay, I’m going to do this in probably 3 parts because it’s long)

So The Department sorta happened because I wanted to get back into a regular weekly-updating online fic because, frankly, two reasons:

1) I’m worn out/exhausted/a bit burned out from working on novels and very little of anything else for the last year and a half, and

2) I crave/need the instant validation of the comment section at AO3, which you don’t get when you write a book :/

So I called a break, put away my manuscripts for a couple months, and am just indulging in some fun writing for a little while. And since I wanted something new (sorry WIPs, your time will come again) this is what we ended up with.

I don’t remember exactly what made me go with the police department premise. The potential for assholery and rampant egomania, most likely? Well, you know I love that shit when it hides something slightly more noble underneath...and I think I wanted a big ensemble cast because I just adore the dynamics that can occur in groups of disparate personalities who have known each other for a long time. That way they interact when they know each others’ secrets and there’s that one person new to the group who isn’t in on any of the jokes? Good stuff right there.

I do remember that the first ideas for this story came to me during the Professor Jeff’s Super Science Show at the library (yeah your guess is as good as mine on that but it happens literally every time). But if I’m being honest, I’d say it probably had more to do with Benny Hill than anything. I have this bad habit of sitting on the couch with my laptop on my knees, headphones on, head back, inventing scenes in my head that go along with whatever music I’m listening to. I’ve got this one insane playlist full of goofy tunes my 7-year old has requested for staging Thomas The Tank Engine crash scenes (don’t ask) and on this particular night that’s what I was listening to because why not. On that playlist is a 30-minute loop of the Benny Hill Theme. And all I could see in my head was a foot chase on ice and snow between a female officer, an out of shape Chief of police, a giraffe-legged office assistant, and a probably methed-up wannabe criminal who didn’t actually do anything major but was running anyway because he was bored. It struck me funny and I toyed with the idea of sticking it into something I already had started, because I do love me some chaotic slapstick.

So the next day I’m driving the boys home from the Super Science Show and I’ve been playing around with it in my head again, and it’s taking shape into something that I know I’m going to have to work with. We pass the Pupuseria Virolena Salvadoran restaurant downtown, and I start laughing because I’m suddenly hearing David Tennant trying to say that in his Scottish accent.

On the spot I named him Hawk and made him Captain. And now we have one of our characters, and by the time we pull up in our driveway ten minutes later I’ve got stuff needing to be written down right now.

(the rest is under the cut for length)

Chapter 1 - Prologue - Your Boatload of Bad Decisions Has Left The Harbor

I was so anxious to get into the story but it needed an introduction, or else Greta being in this podunk town wouldn’t have any weight. So we’re introduced to our heroine, who isn’t so much a heroine as just a decent if slightly too self confident special division officer who had some bad luck. It’s not elaborated on yet in the story, though it’s heavily referenced multiple times that she disobeyed an order and made the decision to continue a high speed pursuit that had been called off by her superior officer, the above-mentioned Captain Hawkins, whom Greta has something of a relationship with (yeah they’re screwing, what of it). And in the wake of that decision, Greta’s partner is killed and she’s brought up on charges, suspended, ordered to counseling, and finally shipped off to a small town in Minnesota so she can keep working while her final fate is decided by an investigative committee back in LA.

The opening chase scene was written from things I learned when I was a kid and my dad did vehicle tweaks for the Fort Worth police department from his auto shop. The officers used to hang out drinking Cokes and telling stories while dad made (possibly illegal) modifications to their cars. I was there a lot, sitting under his work bench with my books and pencils, listening to everything and remembering it all. And I thought it was so damn cool. So here we are. What else was I gonna do with that information? Might as well put it to use if it’s gonna be taking up real estate in my head for all these years.

For the record, I really liked Greta’s partner Joe and hated to kill him - but we needed a catalyst, and the cheerful best friend who sings Italian arias during chases while joyfully blasting out windshields is always gonna be the loser in the goner lottery. For once the male hero dies to further the female lead’s storyline.

Heh, take that Marvel.

Anyway, sorry Joe. There will be more about you in later chapters, so...gone but not forgotten.

Chapter 2 - Minnewhatever

This part starts out with the last bit of backstory we need to proceed. Hawk sending Greta off to Minnesota, a place whose name she never does remember or say correctly. She doesn’t figure she’s actually going to be there long enough to bother learning it, but Hawk informs her that her exile is likely to last at least a year, and he gives her very little reassurance that she won’t be serving every minute of her sentence.

Greta’s feeling a little betrayed here. She and Hawk have been sort of a thing for a while, friends and colleagues and lovers, but he’s washing his hands of the entire situation and she’s left angry and a bit bereft. But she still figures he’ll do something to get her out of it, if she’s patient and behaves herself in the new place.

Fast forward to day one in Weemeetwa. While drowning her aggravation in a bottle of the good stuff, Greta meets her first new acquaintance and decides to just go with the cranky fuck-it attitude that she’s been harboring since the incident, gets shitfaced, and goes home with the guy. This might have been a dual-purpose shag; Greta’s still feeling betrayed and abandoned by Hawk, so it’s a screw-you that he’ll never find out about - but that doesn’t stop it from feeling good in a vengeful sort of way. Plus it’s cold and she’s alone and the guy - Andy, a tall sweet longhaired cutiepie with an Irish accent - is all too willing to buy her a drink and take her home for some cuddles.

In the morning Greta wakes up in a strange place full of groaning regret and ends up giving Andy a ride to the station. She doesn’t count on seeing him again, so there’s no breath wasted on goodbyes.

Chapter 3 - A Logging Truck, A Mountain, and A Blonde Walk Into A Bar

Now we meet most of the department. Creeley, a gruff roughhouser with a rude streak forty miles wide, Sarah, the only other female in the department and possibly the only person alive who can keep the boys under control, Kevin, the quiet dispatch agent with an impressive mountain impersonation skill, and finally (for the moment) Chief, the slightly too good-looking and highly put-upon boss of them all.

I knew I wanted Tom Hiddleston to play Chief Tommy Davis. This is Kong Skull Island-era Hiddleston crossed with The Night Manager, with a handful of extra pounds around the middle and a frustrated sigh that goes on forever. He’s meant to be an ex hockey player who was waylaid on his way to the major leagues, so he’s strong and sturdy, but an injury benched him years ago and a career in small-town law enforcement has put him a bit to pasture. Middle aged, somewhere between 40 and 45. He’s got some stuff in his past but he’s happy now, for the most part, just living his life watching over the town.

Jason Momoa is Bobby Creeley, for obvious reasons. I knew I wanted a rowdy, rude, loudmouthed team member that’s always crossing everyone, but who everyone knows will be there no matter what if anything goes down. He’s instantly Greta’s nemesis from the moment she walks in the door. Gigantic and shaggy with a permanently amused nature and a fear of literally nothing, he’s simultaneously everyone’s best friend and worst enemy.

Sarah Lancashire has been finding her way into a lot of my fics lately as side characters, so it’s no surprise she ended up here as Sarah Pearl. Steely, tough, and highly immune to the idiocy around her, Sarah is the worn out voice of common sense that the department is running perilously short on. She’s also my first and foremost girl crush, and I’ll admit right now that I wrote an AU ending almost immediately that involved Sarah and Greta ending up together. It would be natural to assume Sarah would fall into the default role of mom to the group, but there’s a whole lot of oh hell nope wrapped around that trope. She would set them all on fire if anyone would let her have some matches, but Chief made a rule against that a long damn time ago.

Dave Bautista has been hanging around the back door of my muse stable for the longest, just minding his own business and waiting his turn, but I never really had any place to stick him. Well Drax, your time has come baby. I chose him to play Kevin Saylor based on his GoTG scene in which he tries to convince the crew he’s invisible. And that’s Kevin, in a nutshell. Huge and intimidating but quiet and intensely matter-of-fact in manner, he’s in charge of dispatch and immediately inspires Greta’s hatred of using the radio.

My first (and really only) faceclaim for Greta Morley was Zoe Saldana, but I waffled briefly for a couple of weeks, trying to cater to a few readers who told me they wanted to imagine themselves in the role. I planned to stick with that, and I tried, I promise I did. But every time Greta opened her mouth I heard Zoe, and by the time she went on her less than fleet-footed pursuit of Wilson with the longsuffering Andy by her side, she was locked in. Greta’s harboring some serious regret and raw emotional wounds from her not too distant past, and some time out in the American Midwest should be a much needed recovery sabbatical. Should be. But isn’t gonna.

Speaking of Andy...Andrew Hozier-Byrne was and is the only person I ever considered for the role of Andy Burns. Too tall, too clumsy, too cute, too sweet, just a whole bunch of too everything - he was perfect for the role and I may or may not have written it exclusively for him. Okay yeah, I wrote it exclusively for him. Andy’s the local cryptid, nobody really knows a lot about him. He may or may not be a drug dealer. He may or may not be officially employed by the police department. He may or may not be Irish or hypoglycemic or a blackout drunk or as goofy as he seems. Nobody really knows, and to be honest nobody really cares, because if you need it done Andy can do it...if he can remember you asked him to do it.

So Greta has arrived, for better or for worse. Cree immediately starts in with the sexist remarks and butchering her name, a favor she returns by embarking on what will become a neverending trail of obliterated mis-renderings of the town’s name. Creeley and Kevin kick off another of many running gags by arguing over whether or not anyone knew she was coming, and before things can get too stupid, Chief makes his first appearance.

And now things start to get interesting.

To be continued at chapter 4, Randy Andy and The Chief of Weemeetwa

@whatevervivie

#The Department #director's commentary #Hiddleston #Hozier #Momoa #Bautista #Saldana #Lancashire

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mf-despair-queen · 6 years

Text

Doctor, Doctor - Thomas

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Thomas/Reader

Word Count: 10,229

Summary: Thomas cares about your health. And with that, he cares enough to give you a healthy dose of Vitamin D when you ask for Doctor Thomas’ prognosis.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Really poorly done Role Playing, Oral (both receiving), Sexy Finger Sucking, Doggy, Hair Pulling, Spanking, Choking, Dirty Talk, Side Sex, Over stimulation, Bondage, Daddy Kink, Teasing

Notes: A belated birthday fic for my favorite Cubs fan in the world, Julia aka @savage-stilinski. I hope you enjoy your man in all his fine glory. Note, this ALMOST could read as a sequel to Infected but it is a separate, standalone story.

The gentle sound of the waves splashing against the sand outside lulled you from your sleep, blinking tired eyes open slowly. The chilled air made you shiver and curl more into the blankets, huddling into the warm body that slept peacefully beside you. The scent of bacon blended with the salty air, a hint of greenery hovering through the air. A roaring gurgle met your ears, earning a sigh from your lips. The last thing you wanted was to leave the comfort of the bed, but food was calling.

“Tommy, breakfast,” you murmured, nudging the deadweight body beside you. The man shifted, his arm resting on his stomach and his head lolled to the side on his pillow. His pale pink lips parted with his steady breaths and a small bit of drool dribbling down his chin, caramel orbs hidden behind his eyelids. Chocolate locks were spiked in random directions, splayed wildly on his head. It screamed of sleep, having been tousled restlessly from the pillow he slept on. The blanket had been stolen through the night by you, a small fraction left to cover his lower half, leaving his bare torso to rise and fall without shelter. Even in the coldest nights, Thomas was a furnace, providing you warmth and comfort. “Thomas, breakfast.”

You heard his faint mumble, unable to discern his words. With a huff, you rolled out of the bed, taking the blanket with you. Thomas didn’t seem to care, only rolling onto his stomach, hugging your pillow to his chest. Without waiting for the man to wake up, you grabbed your clothes for the day, changing in the bathroom to head out. Your baggy pajamas were discarded in a pile and swapped for a comfortable tank top and jeans, your boots on your feet. Thomas was left with a single kiss to the forehead that made him smile in his sleep, hugging the pillow more.

The walk through the Safe Haven was refreshing, people up and working already, though the sun had barely arisen over the mountains in the east. Waves were shared by the occupants of paradise, smiles growing on their faces. It made you smile in return, kicking off your boots to walk through the oceanic waves that frothed against the sand on your way to the kitchens. The water was cold and the breeze was calming, making your hair float around your form in billows. The low chatter around you made your heart thud with joy, the blue sky above your head a change from the destroyed world you were used to for so long. Even if you had been safe from the cruelties of the world for weeks now, every day still felt new.

Frypan greeted you with a plate of eggs, toast and bacon when you walked into the kitchen. The eggs were sunny side up and the bacon made a smile. The plate was happiness incarnate held in the palms of your hands. A giggle left your lips, thanking the former glade’s cook, finding the friends you spent years with at your normal table. Minho was trying to steal Brenda’s bacon, the short haired girl swatting his hand away and jabbing a fist in his side. Newt shifted uncomfortable across from them, scratching at his bandaged torso as he ate his toast.

“Stop scratching it. It’s healing,” you scolded, planting yourself beside the Brit. Your long time friend glowered at you from the corner of his eye, sipping his juice. “Don’t give me that look. You should be glad that stab didn’t kill you!”

“I should be dead though,” he whispered dejectedly.

“No. No negativity, Newt,” you huffed, waving your bacon at him. “You are safe. You aren’t infected. Thomas was able to give you the cure because Teresa made enough. You aren’t dead. You are here with us. And we are glad you are.”

“I know. I’m glad I’m here too,” he said, giving you a side hug. “And you are too.”

“Love you, Newtie.”

“Love you, Y/N.”

“You guys are a load of depression,” Minho cut in, specks of bacon flying from his mouth. You grimaced in disgust, shaking your head. “We are in the Safe Haven. You have no Flare virus. We are all together.”

“I just said that, Minho,” you huffed.

“I just said it better.”

“You guys are children,” Brenda sighed.

“Enough of that,” Newt chuckled. “Where is your other half, Y/N?”

“Tommy?” you clarified, the three nodding. “Sleeping, of course. I tried to wake him up for breakfast, but he wouldn’t wake up. So, I left him. I’m not missing out on food because my lump of a boyfriend wouldn’t get out of bed.”

“So, how long before he flies through that door and drags you away?” Newt chuckled, making your brow rise.

“What? He wouldn’t-”

“Yeah, he will,” Minho confirmed.

“No!”

“Yeah,” Brenda reiterated.

“Oh, my god, guys. Thomas is not going to run through that door screaming-”

“Y/N!”

“Fuck me.”

Thomas stormed through the kitchen, all eyes on the flustered man. He was panting and sweating, his hair still untame from rest. His eyes were wide and slightly red to match his face. Panic was laced on every feature on his face, the distressed look he gave as he approached making you frown. His clothes were wrinkled, his sweats hanging low on his hips, unchanged after he awoke, and a blue henley on his body. He had obviously through the clothes on before rushing out of the tiny hut you called home. Even his boots were still untied.

“You’re ok,” he breathed, running a veiny hand through his hair. You moved so he could collapse beside you, his head in your shoulder. “I was so worried when I woke up and you weren’t there. I didn’t know where you went or if you were safe.”

“I’m fine, Tommy.”

“But something could have happened!” he scolded. “You should have woken me up before you left.”

“I tried-”

“We need to head home and make sure you are ok, baby.”

You huffed. Thomas was the sweetest man you could ever wish to date. Since meeting him in the Glade, he had cared for you like nothing else. He protected you, he supported you, and he loved you. You loved him back. His strength of heart and willful spirit lured you in, keeping you trapped. You wanted nothing else than to be by his side through everything, especially now that you were free from WICKED’s clawed grasp.

However, ever since he woke up after getting shot by Janson, he had been on your case twenty-four-seven. You had gotten infected through the airborne virus since you were unknowingly not immune. Thomas was devastated, but he was determined to find you a cure. In his hand when you helped pull him into the berg were two vials of serum that he mumbled were the cure before passing out from blood loss. It saved you and Newt, who was barely clinging to life between a stab to the chest and his infection.

Now that he was awake from his gunshot wound that was almost completely healed, he wanted to make sure the cure was, indeed, a cure. Every day, he took it upon himself to check your vitals, testing to see if the virus had somehow returned and he was at risk of losing you yet again. At least three times a day, you would hear the words ‘How are you feeling?’ fall from his mouth before a hand pressed to your forehead.

Honestly, his caring nature and the need to make sure you were safe was a mixture of emotions. It was caring and made you fuzzy inside, knowing that he was worried and wanted you to be safe. But, it was irksome.

“Why don’t you ever dote on Newt?” you asked the man, taking a bite of your eggs. “He was infected too, you know!”

“He isn’t my girlfriend and the love of my life,” Thomas told you. You giggled when Newt feigned heartbreak. “Besides, he has Minho to dote on him!”

“But Minho doesn’t give a rat’s ass because Newt is perfectly healthy! There are no signs of the Flare!”

“This is accurate,” Minho teased.

“That is besides the point,” Thomas argued, taking your hand. “We have to get you checked on.”

“But, my bacon-” you cried, getting dragged off. You whimpered sadly whe of your bacon, giving you a wink from afar. “I love you, Thomas. But you’re going to drive me insane.”

“Less talking, more making sure you are ok.”

“You owe me bacon, asshole.”

It wasn’t until nightfall that you could sneak away. Thomas had kept you close since your abrupt disappearance from your calling for food until Vince requested his help on some building plans. Thomas was always helping Vince plan, and you were proud of him for assuming such a leadership role, but he expected you to stay in bed.

Ha. Nope.

You wandered down to the beach, seeing the flames of a fire flickering in the distance. It was normal that her friends would make a small bonfire on the beach to relax after a long day, and that’s exactly where they were now. The former gladers were sat around the fire, joined in part by Brenda and a few friends from Maze B, drinking Gally’s special drink he whipped up. Newt was the first to see you approaching, grabbing you a jar with the pale yellow liquid.

“Finally escape Doctor Thomas?” he joked. You glared at him while collapsing in the sand, sipping the bitterly strong drink.

“Not funny.”

“It kind of is,” Minho laughed. He received a swift boot to the head, the runner groaning.

“It’s not! I spent all day by his side because he didn’t want me running off again,” you sneered. “He literally expected me to stay in bed all day and not do anything.”

“Aw, Doctor Thomas taking care of you,” Minho poked.

“He’s always checking on his patient,” Aris laughed.

“Does he ask what level of pain you are? Then you can make a face to express it. Like this,” Frypan joke, making a pained, strained face.

“He always checking your temperature, tucking you into bed before feeding you some soup,” Brenda laughed.

“Guys, it’s not funny,” you seethed. “Trust me. I love Thomas so fucking much. He means the world to me. He makes me so happy and I’m glad I can be here with him today. I shouldn’t be here because of the Flare and he made it possible to live. He’s the best man I have ever met, no offense guys.” You glanced at the guy gladers who shrugged. “I feel special with him and I look up to him.

“But, he’s driving me insane. Every day is the same. I love that he cares and I love knowing that he wants me to be safe. But, he’s so worried that I’m going to be sick again that he’s going overboard. I’m suffocating under him because he just… ugh!” You fell back on the sand, arms spread wide. “I hate him. I hate him. I hate him! Why does my boyfriend have to care so much?!”

“Because he loves you?”

“That was rhetorical, Minho!” you growled, throwing sand his way. “I know he does! But, I just need him to calm down! I’m not on the verge of death and he’s treating me like some fragile baby bird that isn’t ready to leave the nest. I am losing my mind because he’s always there to make sure I’m not sick. I love his compassion but I hate his compassion!”

“That’s… redundant.”

You blinked, standing from your spot. “Come here, Minho. I’m going to strangle you and you will wish I will have had the Flare because then people won’t question why your body is scattered across the beach!”

Brenda held you by the waist, dragging your flailing form away. “Come on. We are going on a walk.”

“I don’t want a walk! I want to kill Minho!”

“Naw. I think she wants Doctor Thomas to give her a prescription,” Minho teased with a wink. “Of his dick!”

Your face was bright red. “You’re dead, Minho. You hear me? DEAD.”

“Walk!” Brenda forced, pushing you down the sandy walkway. Grumbles filled the dark air, your feet trudging away from the group. The drink in your hand was tipped back, sliding down your throat with a burning elegance. Brenda watched you silently, sipping her own drink. “You know, I don’t see what the big deal is. Having Thomas checking up on you like that, playing personal doctor. I’d think you would enjoy that more.”

“It’s frustrating!”

“No,” Brenda laughed. “It’s kind of hot, Y/N. I can only imagine what things he could do to you while playing doctor. And you tell me once that the sex is amazing. Just thinking about what an attractive guy like that could do when he drags you away to make sure you are ok gets me hot.”

“That’s my boyfriend you are talking about, Bren,” you deadpanned.

“I know. But, you can’t tell me you aren’t the least bit aroused by Thomas constantly taking care of you,” she pressed.

“I mean, I guess…”

“Y/N, let me spell this out to you. You have a hot ass man that loves you with all his heart. He is there for you to give you whatever you need. Just think about when he goes to give you your next check up how he strips you down and pleases you all night long.”

“Jesus, Bren!” you screeched, shaking your head in a flustered state. “Stop thinking about this please!”

“What? You guys are hot and I ship it. I’d live to know that he can fuck you like you deserve,” she laughed. Your face turned beet red at her words. “I’m just trying to say this. Why are you complaining about it? I get that it’s annoying because he does it all the time. But, embrace it!”

“Embrace it?” you asked into your drink.

She nodded with a evil grin. “Let Doctor Thomas do his job and give you the treatment you deserve.”

You stared at the girl, mouth parting in surprise. No words came out, your lips sealing together and curling upright. Brenda noticed the smile that grew, bouncing like a kid in a candy store. She nudged your side, wiggling her eyebrows as you walked, divulging the plan you were concocting.

The door slammed shut behind Thomas the following evening. He was exhausted, his body sluggish after his long day. His boots were kicked off, a hand running through his hair to feel the sweat that seeped from the top of his head. The sun pounded on him while he built a new hut on the edge of town. The sleeves of his henley were pushed up. The buttons were completely undone, showing off the dark chest hairs that were splayed across his pecs.

“Tommy?” you called from your room, Thomas’ ears perking up. His heart lifted, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. He had miraculously managed to convince you to stay in while he was working, but a small part of him worried since he couldn’t check on you all day. To know you were home, safe and sound, put his nerves at ease. The only thing that could drop it is if you developed the Flare again and were going to Crank out on him the second he walked into the room.

He didn’t need to move forward. He saw the shadow of your form on the wall, hearing your footsteps patter against the ground, stepping out of the room. You stayed near the doorway, leaning on it almost seductively. You appearance made the runner’s heart freeze, his pants growing tighter and his body heat no longer from the setting sun that had scorched his skin.

“Holy…”

You played with the lacy designed robe that did nothing to conceal your body, the mesh design see through. It ended at your mid thigh, the material skimming them as it swayed. Under the black robe was the blue lingerie set he loved the most. The bra pushed your breasts up until they were ready to spill out of the top, almost see through so he could see your breasts clearly. The flowers beautifully decorated your chest, hugging to your skin. The bottoms matched with the flower design, hugging your core and backside in just the right way. A tiny bow was plastered in the middle, acting as a landmark for the center he wanted to be part of.

You bit your lips that were more red than normal - a lip gloss that was salvaged from the ruins of the fallen world outside the Safe Haven making them shimmer. Your eyes were shadowed from some eye make up, the glance from the side of your eye making your eyes clouded with mystery and beauty. Your stance made you look sexy, willingly waiting for him to advance on you. You noticed the man fidget where he stood, keeping from launching himself across the house to ravage you.

“You know,” you started, voice sultry. “I’m not feeling too well. I was wondering if you could give me a proper diagnosis, Doctor Thomas. Help a girl out, please? Your patient is ready.”

Thomas’ normally caramel eyes flashed completely black, taking slow, calculated steps in your direction. You remained where you stood, waiting until he was flesh against you, towering above you in overwhelming glory. His hands cupped your face, thumbs skimming the outline of your jaw, brushing your glimmering lips. The gesture made you mewl, sinking into his touch.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear you aren’t feeling too well, miss,” he played along, the low octave of his voice making it gruff and husky. “Please, tell me all about what is going on. How are you feeling?”

Thomas knocked over the basket of laundry that was on the table just inside the room in search for a pad of old paper and a dying pen. You giggled, tilting your head as he pretended to write. “Well, I have this horrible ache that I can’t seem to get rid of. I’m always hungry for some sausage. And I have all this pent up energy that doesn’t seem to go away. I really need your help, Doctor.”

Thomas glanced up from the paper, biting his lip. “I see. Well, I will need to run some extra tests on you first to make a proper diagnosis.”

He was backing you into the room, your legs hitting the bed in a flash. The pad of paper was tossed into the hallway outside the room, the page having some scribbles that was supposed to resemble words. In the process of walking to the bed, Thomas’ strong hands moved from your face to your hands, moving slowly up your arms to your shoulders. The silky robe you were wearing to cover your lingerie was pushed from your body, melting off your arms into a puddle on the floor. The steps left it forgot and unneeded, your underwear soon to follow.

His luscious lips were attached to yours in a fiery kiss before your back even met the lumpy mattress. The former runner laid on his side, propped up on his elbow to hover over you as you laid back completely. The kiss was smooth yet messy, lips dragging against each other in a sloppy fashion. His strong hand skimmed against your waist, letting his lips work magic up above. The soft smack of lips against lips filled the small room,open-mouth kisses shared without remorse. Tongues twisted and tangled together, circling each other in blissful silence. His lips commanded every kiss, dictating when he would pull back for air before dipping back down for another greedy intake. Teeth occasionally clashed and noses frequently bumped, both of you beginning to get a high from the sensual kisses, his tongue tracing the insides of your cheeks.

Your hands found the bottom of his shirt, struggling to tug it up and off of him between kisses. He sat you both up so you could properly remove it. The fabric peeled from his skin in slow motion, the reveal of his almost pristine skin making your eyes glimmer. The scar of his gunshot was dark in contrast to his somewhat pale skin, his chest and back speckled with dark dots in the form of moles and beauty marks. As the sleeves unraveled from his arms, his biceps were revealed, the henley having concealed the true strength he possessed. Veins ran along his arms, his biceps flexed from the simple bend of an arm. His shoulders tensed and relaxed, pecs with the patch of chest hair you loved jumping slightly. His dark caramel eyes were shadowed when he glanced up at you through his eyelashes, the stare cut short when he resumed watching you remove the fabric from his skin, tossing it aside.

You were pushed back on the bed again with his lips on yours, your hands now free to roam his bare torso. His hands moved strategically down your body - first roaming your chest and giving your breasts a firm squeeze, then tugging your waist a bit closer to him so you were flesh against him, limb to limb, and finally gripping at your backside. The hem of your panties were snapped against your waist, the tender touch of his digits sending shivers up your spine at the same time. He played with the front of your panties, pushing you back on the bed before slipping his hand in your underwear.

The tips grazed your clit, a moan loud muffled by his lips. The faint noise made his finger rub faster and push harder. Your body began to burn from the pressure on your swollen nub, arching into his touch. His lips never broke from yours, only pushing harder against the while rubbing circles to your center. He could feel your shakes and trembles, breathy moans making his throat vibrate. His fingers rubs vigorously to your clit, making you swoon for the man.

Two fingers slid further down, spreading your folds to playfully tease your core. The tips slid in first, toying with your entrance by parting the pussy lips. When they dipped further in, the tips curled, nails beginning to scratch against your walls carefully. It didn’t hurt; it just made your stomach tingle with that sensation you were familiar with when it came to sex with your boyfriend. It fluttered and twisted in all the right ways, a coil slowly swirling itself into a tight knot.

Your lips broke from his when his fingers were knuckle deep inside you, beginning to thrust quickly into you despite the restriction of the panties catching on his hand. Your lips still skimmed his, sharing the occasional kiss as he moved in and out of you, pleasing you relentlessly. When he pulled out, he spread wide, scissoring your entracing until you were exposed to everything and leaking around his fingers and down your thighs. They snapped back together so he could push into you once more, shoving deep enough to find your sweet spot. The touch made you shake, throwing your head back with loud moans. Thomas’ lips trailed down your cheek to your neck, placing kisses on your shoulder. His ears perked up at the squishing sound that came from his powerful thrusts, pursing his lips to keep from grunting.

“Thomas,” you whimpered, clawing your nails down his arms. His biceps flexed under the tips of your fingers, grinning into your shoulder. “More. I’m so close.”

“Do it,” he whispered back, sucking a dark mark to your skin. The pluck of his lips against your shoulder made you quiver, the knot inside you becoming unexplainably tighter. Your back arched off the bed, toes curling into the blankets you were laying on top of. You flailed around for anything to hold onto, settling on Thomas’ free hand, fingers naturally lacing together passionately. Your walls hugged around his digits, trying to keep them inside long enough for you to orgasm.

“Oh god,” you cried, tightening your hold on him. “I’m cumming. I’m cumming!”

“I love the sound of that, baby,” he said, pushing into you harder.

The powerful press of his fingers to your sweet spot, the rake of his nails along your sensitive walls, was the last straw. Your walls crumbled and the knot broke - not just unraveled. It was burned to a crisp in an everlasting flame that smoldering inside you from his touch. Your juices spilled out around him with a screaming moan from your mouth, coating his slender digits and escaping to soak your panties, core and legs.

He pulled out slowly, letting you relax against the bed. He watched your chest heave up and down unevenly, the look of contentment making you glow. His attention was turned to his freed fingers, watching drops of your juices drip slowly along them. They glistened and sparkled, his caramel eyes twinkling mischievously. His thumb pressed to the pointer finger and middle finger he had used to finger you, smearing the juices around seductively. Your eyes, hazy and shadowed, watched him, glued to the way his long, bony fingers rubbed together tauntingly.

Thomas turned to your, adjusting himself against the bed to hover over you better. Your legs tangled together and his chest was hot against your arm, making you sweat. The two wet fingers that were dipped in your sweetness touched your lips, your eyes meeting his dark ones. You questioned him silently, the man grinning.

“I have to check your mouth for any… signs of illness,” he murmured gruffly, trying to sound like the doctor you proclaimed him to be. “Now, baby. Say ahh.”

No hesitation befell you. Your lips parted and your eyes closed, taking the two digits into your mouth. He tasted of your salty sweetness, an odd tang coming from your own arousal. It wasn’t something you often tasted - it only came around if he kissed you after he crawled between your legs. This was much more prominent than you were used to, but you didn’t dismiss it. The digits played between your cheeks, wiggling around while your tongue lapped at the liquid on them. Your throat rumbled with the ahh noise you made for him, your tongue pressing down and the tip extending against his joint.

When his fingers were fully engulfed between your cheeks, knuckle deep while being cleaned, he pulled out slowly. Your lips parted, the pads of his fingers tugging your bottom lip on the way out. Your lips stayed parted, panting slightly. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, tasting the last of yourself that remained from his removal, Thomas grunting in approval.

The runner stood from the bed, fumbling with the button on his jeans. With the pop of it and the zip sliding down, the denim sunk against his hips, showing the black band of his boxer briefs and the deep v-lines that were embedded into his sides. The dark trail of hair disappeared beneath the black band, a noticeable bulge at the end of the path. He seemed to be in a taunting mood, the drop of the jeans down his legs slower than you would prefer. His boxers followed thereafter, the man left bare after an agonizing wait. With the boxers removed, his cock was free, hard, long and girthy. It stuck straight out, pointed in your direction like it was a compass pointing north. The tip was red and swollen, wet with precum. Veins ran along the shaft, disappearing in the curly patch of hair at the base, residing on his groin in a bushy bundle.

He stroked himself slowly, looking down at his cock proudly. A lopsided smile curled on his lips, his dark eyes glowering at you when he peered upwards. “Time to take your temperature, baby.”

The man stood on the side of the bed, watching you twist onto your hands and knees. Eagerly, his tip was taken between your hollowed cheeks, harshly sucking at the head of his cock. Thomas let out an inhuman groan, threading his fingers through your hair, gripping it tight on the back of your head. He stared down at you, hungrily watching you ravish is length with your mouth.

You bobbed along his length, swirling your tongue around the tip and along the pulsating vein on the underside of him. He twitched when you passed over the rough patch on his frenulum, grunting as it slithered down his length. Every inch of him disappeared into your mouth and down your throat, expertly managing the size of him. Your hand moved to caress his balls, fondling them in the palm of your hand. The deeper you slid on his length, the closer you hugged his balls to his body.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back. The motion inadvertently made him tug on your hair, pushing you closer to his groin. Your nose buried into the hairs at the base of his shaft, eyes watering slightly from how deep he was going. It didn’t stop you from sucking, licking furiously at his length. “Just like that.”

His hand went slack, guiding you to bob ferociously along his length. Your slurped, gagging on his cock. You pulled away with subtle pops, kissing along the length while kissing at it. Thomas groaned, mumbling for more.

But before you could give him more, he pushed you back onto the bed, a squeak leaving your mouth. The man was hovering over you, hands on either side of your head. Eyes locked in a passionate connection, his smile curling. “I’m going to administer a quick breast and vaginal exam. Alright?”

“Whatever you need to do, Doctor Thomas.”

Your back arched off the bed, allowing Thomas to strip off the bra you were wearing. His lips attached to the right breast immediately, his hand groping the left in the palm. Much of the skin around the plump bud was taken into his mouth, Thomas happily sucking at your breast. Your hands wove through his dark locks, feeling the soft silk between your fingers. Your hand rest against the back of his head, pushing him closer to your chest.

Your moans didn’t cover the pop that resounded around the room when he pulled back, lips leaving your skin for a single second. He peppered red marks on every inch of your chest, flicking his tongue across your nipple hastily. His hand, wrapped firmly around your other breast, squeezed it, jiggling it between his fingers. When his lips swapped to the other breast to repeat the process, you were seeing stars.

Traveling south, you barely made out the words he spoke against your stomach between kisses. “No lumps. You definitely have some healthy breasts there, ma’am.”

“That’s good,” you mused. “My boyfriend likes them a lot, so it’s good that they are healthy.”

“You should definitely let him keep doing whatever he is doing to them,” Thomas quipped, spreading your legs to kiss at your thighs. “He’s helping keep them healthy.”

“Right,” you laughed, not believing his professional reasoning.

Thomas shook his head, dragging your panties down your legs. You expected him to bury his face in your pussy as soon as you saw the panties fly across the room - and you were half right. He lips were on your core, tongue deep inside you. But, his cock hovered above you, still thick and ready for you. His legs were on either side of your head, his mouth going to town between yours.

His tongue swirled in circles around your core, tracing the tip along your walls. In return, your hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, keeping him steady so you could suck him back. Your head bobbed up and down along his length, going as fast and hard as he was with your pussy. You were growing wet, your taste buds tickled with pleasure and your core slick with your juices that leaked onto his tongue. Thomas was selfish, lapping up every drop you let out in his search for your sweet spot.

You moaned around him when he managed to graze it with the tip of his tongue, vibrating the entire length of him. You were growing weak already, his magical tongue skillfully pleasing you in the ways you always imagined. Your body was tensing and your stomach was coiling, the orgasm you had before making your will weak. His touch made you more sensitive, ready to burst at any second. But you tried to stay strong, stroking and bobbing him just as he licked you, trying to get him to an orgasm he had yet to have.

When your body was wracked with intense quivers, your bobbing growing sluggish and sloppy, Thomas pulled away. His cock was pulled from your mouth with a low whimper from you. Your back, having arched off the bed to shove your body into his, dropped heavily to the bed in defeat, pouting at the former runner. He walked to a pile of objects that had been discarded in the corner of the room, your frown piercing his bare backside. Slowly relaxing, the knot vanishing from inside you, you huffed.

“Seriously?” you asked yourself. Thomas must have heard since he sent you a sideways glance. “Rude much.”

“Sorry, baby,” he breathed, grabbing something from the pile. A rope dangled between his fingers when he turned back to you, the same one you used frequently to do the laundry at your tiny home, stringing up clothes to dry outside. Your brow rose, wondering what he was planning to do with that. “I had to go get ready for your treatment.”

“Oh really?” you asked. Thomas pulled you up into a sitting position, wrapping the rope around your dainty wrists. Tugging it into a knot, the rope didn’t constrict you too tightly to cut off circulation. There was no chance of escape though. If you struggled, your wrists would turn red with raw burn itching them. “Well, what’s the prognosis, doc?”

“You, my dear, are in dire need of cum in your pussy,” he whispered seductively, making you shiver and mewl quietly. “You haven’t had the proper dosage lately and you aren’t feeling well because of it. We don’t want it to get worse, so we will do some emergency treatments to make sure that you are going to be ok.”

“Whatever you say, Doctor Thomas.”

Thomas grinned, settling between your legs. His shaft slid between your folds, making you cry out for him. You were eagerly waiting for him to do something more, but nothing immediate came. “I need to give you a shot now, baby. To give you the proper medicine. It’ll make you feel good. I promise.”

The tip prodded at your entrance before slipping in entirely - and all too slowly. The former runner pushed your legs apart to spread you wide, listening to the moan that erupted from your mouth when he pushed inside you. The sensation didn’t last, Thomas pulling out completely and leaving you whimpering for more. The process was put on repeat, his cock sliding into you so you felt otherworldly before disappearing completely, leaving you void yet wet with desire.

His lips trailed down your face, kissing your forehead, cheeks, chin and nose before colliding with your lips in a short connection. Your tongues tangled shortly, a trail of saliva stringing you together when he pulled away abruptly. Your eyes were glazed over with ecstasy, the emotion dulled because of his inconsistent thrusts. It was kept alive by his plump lips lavishing your face and neck, sucking dark marks that discolored your skin. Each thrust into you vanished before it could do more, teasing you into oblivion.

With a whine and scratch of bound hands along his chest, his cock stayed deep inside you, stilling absolutely. The slow circle of his hips against yours did little to keep the fire inside you burning, praying for more. More pleasure, more moans, more of his hips smacking into yours as he pounding hard into you, more arousal from his fingers to your swollen clit. When he finally pulled back, the feeling was kept low, his thrusts slow and calculated. The ease of his dick sliding out and the gradual push back in made you tremble with desperation. They didn’t hit the spots you knew he was capable of hitting every time he fucked you and the pleasure that came from his enormous member stretching you, filling you to the brim, was lackluster.

“Please,” you whined, scratching at his chest since you couldn’t wrap your arms around his neck as you wished. Brown orbs, darkened from the angle and lust, met yours in a spicy stare, waiting for you to continue - almost as if he was waiting for this exact moment. He knew deep inside what you were going to say and he had been waiting for this exact moment. His calculated movements were intended for this exact second.

“What do you need, baby?” he asked, kissing your lips softly, his slow thrusts never ceasing. “Did the shot hurt? I know you’ve never enjoyed shots.” He was speaking the truth; you hated shots. But this kind of shot was the one you wanted. It just wanted doing it for you. “Or is the medicine working? Do you need more?”

“I need more,” you cried, desperate to cling to him. The binding around your hands kept you from holding him between your arms, hugging him to your chest. “Please, Tommy. I need more.”

“More what?” he asked, pushing you to beg for him more. He wanted to hear you plead. He wanted to hear you cry. He wanted you to ask him for everything you wanted before he pushed so fast and hard into you that you were seeing stars. It killed him, but he waited, pursing his lips into a tight line to keep from smirking. “What do you need from your doctor, baby?”

“More!” you cried loudly, throwing your head back. Your hands left his red, scraped chest, extending above your head. Thomas’ eyes directed to your outstretched chest, your back arching off the bed and pushing into him more. “Please, Tommy. I need to feel you. I need you to go faster and harder until I am screaming your name. I want to feel your thick cock pounding my aching pussy. I want my tits to bounce when you thrust into me relentlessly. God, I need to feel you so bad. This slow moving shit isn’t doing it. The medicine you are giving me isn’t making me feel better. I need more of you. You are my medicine.”

“So, you want more?”

“Yes,” you panted, turning to meet his eye. “I need more, Doctor. I need more of you, daddy.”

“Mmm,” he let out, licking his lips. “Say that again.”

“I need you to pound me hard and fast, Doctor Daddy,” you begged teasingly, Thomas grunting. The name got to him, his hidden attraction for the daddy kink exposed to the confines of your room. “Please, daddy. I want you to fuck me. Have your way with me. Just, please, I beg of you, make me cum.”

“Say it one more time, baby,” came his gruff voice.

“Please, daddy,” you breathed, struggling to take his face in your hands. You did you best, pulling him towards you. Your lips brushed, hot breath hitting each of your faces. “Please, fuck me. Hard and fast so I scream. Then everyone can know who I love and who is taking care of me.”

You shared a lingering kiss, the touch of your lips so scarce, it felt like a dream. The tingle that was left from his lips on yours was all that remained when he backed away, leaving you to wonder if this was real or fake. It bordered on reality, the sensation making your heart pump harder and your blood flow faster. Only Thomas could make you feel that way from a simple kiss.

The next time he pulled out, he shoved back into you as quick as the pull was. A scream resonated off the walls, a spike of pleasure hitting your system. And it didn’t stop there. His thrusts grew hard and fast, just as you had pleaded. His cock pistoned in and out of you at godly speeds, the clap of your hips growing loud and more frequent as sweat built up between your bodies. His hands held your hips down against the bed, your legs staying parted so he could easily move in and out of you.

“You like that, baby?” he asked, voice low and husky. You moaned in response, squirming against his grip slightly. That noise you made only made his thrusts faster and harder, the man pounding you into the mattress under you. The entire bed squeaked under the weight of your thrusting forms, banging against the wall in a constant ‘thump, thump thump’ that got louder and more frequent as time passed. The stream of his cock thrusting in and out of you, hitting your sweet spot, was marvelous, your sight spotting. “You like me fucking you like this?”

“Yes,” you panted.

“You always love when I push my cock so deep inside you that you can’t breath. You always moan and pant like a dog, begging me to make you cum.” His hand moved from your hip to your chest, fondling a breast in his hand. The other remained bouncing with his countless thrusts, making his mouth water. “I love the way your breasts move when I thrust into you and the way your pussy clings around me. You like the feeling of my big, fat cock between your walls?”

“Yes, daddy,” you squeaked, head thrown back further. “You feel so good, Tommy. Please, don’t stop! Faster, harder!”

He did as you requested - if that were even possible. Your bodies crashed in a noisy array of smacks and claps, the skin on skin contact echoing around the crisp air of the room. It smelled of sweat and sex, a lustful scent ingrained in the wood and sheets around you. Sweat poured from your body from the heated aura of your bodies against one another, making you stick together. Thomas’ wild thrusts hit your g-spot every time he pushed into you like it was a magnet drawn to the source of your pleasure. Each tap made your walls hug around him more, clamping down on every inch of his erect cock that fit inside you, stretching you wide.

His fingers found your clit, rubbing harsh circles to it. He was trying to push you over the edge with the extra stimulation. The nub he pushed against was sensitive, every gentle swipe of the pads against it making you quiver. The subtle distinction of his fingers tracing letters against your arousal, spelling out his name for you to remember for all of time, was ebbed in your mind, your body beginning to writhe against the sheets, getting tangled in them. Your bound hands struggled to tangling through his messy locks, wet with sweat, trying not to smack him in the face in the process. Tugs to the dark tendrils made Thomas release a breathy moan, his adam’s Apple bobbing.

“Oh God, Tommy,” you cried out. The knot in your stomach twisted tightly, clenching almost painfully from holding on to your release. Your limbs were aching and your head was pounding, the pressure of ecstasy weighing down on your body. The coil was urgently ready to unwind, yet it didn’t. It sat like a lump inside you, craving release that couldn’t seem to come. No matter how hard or fast Thomas thrust, how good he made you feel, the orgasm never arrived. His heavy breathing was an indication he was close, but it was growing hard on you. Each pulse of his cock through your walls made you itch with pain. His finger on your clit made you wish he wouldn’t. “Stop. Tommy, stop.”

His thrusts slowed to a stop when he heard your plea, his eyes growing worried. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you panted, relaxing into the bed. The pain was slowly beginning to subside, your limbs going limp. “I-I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “Just… a little much I guess.”

Thomas chuckled, burying his head in your neck. “Guess I pleased you too much, huh?”

“You’re just that good I guess,” you joked.

“So, are you trying to say I gave you too much medicine?” he laughed, making your lips pucker sourly at his joke with the role playing circumstance you had put upon yourselves. “You’re not going to overdose on me, are you?”

“Not this time,” you laughed. “You’re taking good care of me.”

You had a double meaning in your words. In the current situation, you meant that he was making you feel good with the sex. But, you also implied that he took good care of you since curing you from the Flare. Even if he irritated you with the constant home care, you were thankful that he was taking such good care of you.

“I’m glad,” he said, kissing your forehead.

His eyes met yours, the man giving a gentle smile before leaning in to give you a tender, loving kiss. You eased into it, returning the kiss with an equal amount of passion. It wasn’t messy or careless where spit was flying and tongues tangled in messy swirled between your cheeks. It was the simple ones where his lips overtook yours, dragging along them in blissful silence. The quiet smack of your lips pulling apart made your heart race, pushing up for another kiss.

You felt emptiness hit you when he pulled out of you, his lips parting from yours. You felt him smile before he vanished from your view. You were flipped onto your stomach, propped up on shaky hands and knees. His toned body pressed against you, his shaft between your legs in your folds. His hands pushed your hair over your shoulders, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“We’re not done with your treatment though, baby,” he whispered. Kissing your ear, he continued. “You need some more medicine and this time, it’ll work. Just one more shot, alright?”

“Of course, Doctor Thomas.”

Thomas grinned, leaning back on his legs. His shaft slid into you, hearing you moan into the pillows your face was buried in. He pulled out slowly at first, slamming into you furiously. The speed picked up quickly until his hips were slamming into your backside in a noisy clatter. Your butt pushed up and into him, the angle allowing him to push deep inside you until he was hitting your cervix and g-spot. You moaned loudly with every push he did, shaking intensely.

“Thomas!” you screamed, the name muffled. Thomas pouted, his unseen expression displaying how much he wanted to hear you scream his name. So, his hand darted out, finding the hair he pushed aside before, pulling it back just enough so you couldn’t hide. His ears rang with the shrill screams from your mouth, the pout turning upright into a bright grin. His name flowed from your lips repeatedly, something to the effect of ‘fuck me, Thomas’.

“That’s right,” he hummed, smacking your backside with the palm of his hand. It ripped out a louder noise, a bright red hand print glowing against your skin. Thomas grunted in approval, jerking your head back further and placing more loud slaps to your behind. You were quivering under him, his powerful thrusts allowing his cock to piston in and out of you rapidly. Your walls tightened around him, his pulsating increasing and flowing through your walls into your veins. Your stomach clenched, the orgasm you hadn’t gotten before resurfacing - and quickly. “Moan for me, baby. Scream for me. Cum for me. Fuck, tell everyone who is fucking you.”

“Thomas is,” you squealed, tugging at the sheets with your bound hands. “Fuck! Thomas, you feel so good. I’m going to cum!”

“Cum for me,” he gasped, his thrusts getting sloppier. He was close, the knot inside of him constricting just like yours. It was burning, sitting in a fire that was crisping the edges to loosen it, shredding it into pieces. His chest heaved, panting for air as he pushed to an end. “Cum with me, baby.”

“Give me all of my medicine,” you teased. “I’m ready for it.”

The air caught in Thomas’ throat, hitching completely. His thrusts sputtered, letting out a raspy gasp. Your sultry words made the knot vanish, his seed spilling into you. Strings of hot, white juices shot out of the tip with force, filling your insides with warmth. Your walls, tightly hugging his entire shaft, milked the drops out of him, his orgasm long overdue. More of his essence seeped out of him, having built up from every delayed end, ejaculated deep into your womb.

The warmth he gave you, the full feeling you got, made your own knot crack. Your toes curled into the sides of his legs, your legs and arms going weak. Your juices splattered out around him, coating his shaft in arousal. A prolonged moan of his name slid off your tongue, feeling his thrusts slow to ride you both through your highs. Juices combined inside you, mixing together in a sea of salty sweet gold.

You collapsed on your stomach when he pulled out, Thomas falling on your side. His hand ran along your back, rubbing out knots that formed from the countless amounts of sex. He heard your content sigh, smiling to himself. His hand rested to your bum, carefully running his fingers along the stinging skin where his hand prints remained. Playfully, the tips of his fingers slid back between your legs, feeling the wetness of your core that was oozing from your combined juices.

That made him harden.

The heat of his hand left, the man swapping to stroke his length. He was hardening from his half-limp state, elongating and beginning to twitch, ready for another round. His girthy length sat in his palm, skin tugged over the head before resuming it’s normal state. You turned to watch him jerk his cock, preparing himself for a new round of sex. The red tip glared your way, your mouth watering behind seals lips. You loved watching him stroke himself, veins popping from his hand from his strong hold on the length. It glistened slightly from your juices still residing on his skin, the twinkle matching the mischief in his eye.

His tongue passed over his lips, rolling you onto your side. Your back was against his chest, his heart beating heaving against his ribs. A hand slid under your torso, locked around a breast, while the other slid between your legs, gripping your thigh and lifting your leg up. It shook weakly but remained danling in the open air, giving Thomas the perfect space to place his cock at your core. His lips found your ear once more, nipping the lobe.

“Your treatment isn’t over yet,” he huskily muttered. “You are desperately need of some Vitamin D that only I can give you. It’ll keep you happy and healthy.”

“Then what are you waiting for, Doctor Thomas?” you asked, turning your head to kiss his lips. “Give me my treatment. I’m still not feeling so well. Please, Doctor. Make me feel better.”

Thomas groaned incoherently. His cock slid into your tight hole, the tip resting to your g-spot. You moaned loudly, the noisy drawn out with a odd vibration that echoed off the walls. The former runner you called your boyfriend wasted no time, thrusting into you quickly and powerfully. One leg remained flat to the bed while the other bent, his foot pressing into the bed to give him some leverage with his thrusts. Your head fell back against his shoulder from the pleasure he was causing you, tilted enough to see the focused look on his face. His lips were puckered in concentration, but his eyes were loving, staring back into yours.

His face leaned down, connecting your lips in a passionate kiss. Your lips parted, your tongue taking control and slipping between his. The man let you control it, pushing harder into you while still focusing on his cock pushing into you at a fast but steady pace. His hips pressed against your butt when he pushed harshly into you, shaft sliding in and out in a slick mess. He was coated in your arousal when he emerged, disappearing back with a swift thrust. His balls, tighter than normal from his prior orgasm, still managed to flounced against your folds. Every thrust into you allowed your leg to bounce up and down through the air like your breasts.

Pulling from the sloppy kiss, he nuzzled into your cheek, kissing it tenderly. “I love you,” he whispered for the first time that night. His fingers lifted from your chest, running through your hair lovingly. Your heart rate picked up, slamming against your ribs. He always managed to make you float away on cloud nine, his declaration of love amanging to pique your own emotions for the man. He was one of a kind and made your life complete. And even if he was deeply dug in your pussy for added bliss, you were in heaven from being in his arms, hearing him mumble those three words.

“I love you too,” you returned, kissing his speckled jawline that had the teeniest bit of scruff growing on it. “Now, please Tommy. Make me cum. Give me that vitamin D. Fuck me fast and hard. Choke me. Pull my hair. Do anything, as long as I cum while you are inside me.”

“That’s hot,” he groaned into your cheek.

Running his fingers one last time through your hair, he placed it on your neck, constricting lightly. It kept your breathing tight, but the lack of one sense amplified the rest. His cock sliding into you felt ten times better, your core clenching around him. The pleasure was intense, flooding your body quickly. Your moans were choppy, your hands trying to grab at anything you could since they were still wrapped together, red from constant struggles. Your nerves were heightened from his neverending thrusts, feeling your stomach tightening once more. His tip hit your sweetest spot, the happiness you got from it making you quiver.

You came first this time. Your walls retracted into him, the knot exploding in fireworks through your system. You moaned - despite how gurgled it came out from the lack of air. Juices washed out around his shaft, your walls clinging to him as you spilled out. Your toes curled through the air, flexing and extending as your high hit. You wished you could have wrapped your arms back around him, scratching and tugging at his body until he was scraped with long red marks that showed your pleasure.

The moisture and heat from your orgasm made him break. His seed shot out of the tip, filling you to the brim in a mixture of your juices. Your body shook while his lurched, each pulse of his cock sending another string into you. His thrusts eased to a stop, the last drops trickling into your system. He could feel your walls throbbing around him, making him twitch. His hand dropped from your throat, both of you relaxing into the other in post orgasm glow.

The ropes were unwound before he pulled out of you, dipping down to kiss your core that seeped of your combined juices. You whimpered from his tender kisses, afraid you would get aroused again. But he carefully kissed any pain away, the taste of you both on his lips. Inching up your body, he left a tasteful kiss to your lips, falling to your side.

His fingers traced to your stomach, drawing random shapes to your bare skin. The other hand was back to running through your hair, your head angled to watch him. His content face had sparkling eyes and a toothy, lopsided smile. Neither of your cared that you were laying in bed naked without a cover. The heat around you was enough to counter the chill that hit you from the sweat on your skin. Your hand lifted to run fingers against his speckled cheek, tracing the constellation of moles on his skin. His hair was sticking up and his chest was still heaving, making his muscled bulge as he tried to relax into a state of normalcy.

“So,” you started, meeting his bright caramel eyes. “What do you recommend, Doctor?”

Thomas chuckled, burying into your shoulder to hide his amusement. You grinned, feeling the love radiating from his pores. “Well, I could write you a prescription,” he started, kissing your shoulder. “But, you definitely need a dose of sex with Doctor Thomas at least once a day until you are feeling better. We don’t want to keep you feeling so wound up and unreleased.”

“What if I never get better?” you challenged playfully.

“Guess you are stuck with me then, huh?” Thomas teased.

“I don’t know if that’s necessarily a bad thing.”

Thomas nodded, taking a deep breath. A silence formed between your both, your hand resting on his on your stomach. You jumped in surprise when he propped up on his elbow staring down at you. “Something has been bugging me this entire time, Y/N,” he stated, making you frown. The use of your name instead of a cute pet name had you worried. “I’m not really complaining because this entire thing was sexy and hot and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I will never forget this and the sex… god, this was the best sex ever. But…”

“But what, Tommy?”

“Why?” he asked. “What was the point in all of this? I highly doubt that it has to do with you just wanting to be kinky and wanting to play doctor and patient. I know you better than that. What are you trying to tell me?”

“Sometimes, I really hate how smart you are,” you laughed bitterly. “WICKED was right to use you, Tommy.”

“Y/N.”

“Sorry,” you sighed. “I… I was just feeling so overwhelmed, Thomas. You know I love you and I always will. I want to be by your side for the rest of my life. But, your constant checking on me like I’m going to suddenly get sick again and die just is stressful. I love knowing that you care but you take it too far. I’m suffocating under your constant care. I know you want me to be ok but I’m not going to up and die randomly. You can relax, babe.”

Thomas’ mouth parted and closed, trying to find the words he wanted to say. His fingers moved to lace with yours, giving it a gentle, comforting squeeze. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, rubbing his lips together. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I just wanted to know you were ok. I almost lost you once and I’m scared something will happen and I will lose you for real. I’m afraid I will catch on too late and won’t be able to save you. I’m sorry that I made you feel like that. I really am.”

“It’s fine, Tommy,” you told him, pulling him into a tender kiss. “I know you didn’t mean it. I know you care. Just… lay off a bit. We can arrange something to keep an eye on me since we know I’m not immune. But don’t stress yourself. Don’t drag me off to take my temperature and check for signs of the Flare. Don’t panic and think I will drop dead if I walk through the Safe Haven. Don’t keep me locked up in bed because you want me to be safe in your mind. I will be fine because I have you and the others helping me if I need it. But, definitely, I have you caring for me every step of the way because you love me and I love you.”

“Alright,” he agreed, kissing your forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop being sorry,” you laughed. “Shit happens. We work it out, Tommy. That’s what a couple does.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“No, I don’t deserve you,” you laughed. “You know, I do have a reason now to see my doctor. I need my medicine, Tommy.”

Thomas’ eyes lit up, a smirk curling on his face. “That’s right. Your prescription,” he hummed. “What are the chances that by cumming in you, I’m keeping you Flare free?”

“Oh god, Thomas,” you groaned. “I was just implying that we need to have more sex.”

“I know,” he hummed, kissing you softly before moving to straddle you. His shaft, growing harder by the second, slid between your folds. “I need to give you lots of medicine to make sure you are safe. So, let me give that to you.”

“I like that idea,” you mewled, wrapping your arms around his neck like you hadn’t done since you crawled into bed. “Doctor Thomas to the rescue.”

“Damn straight.”

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