Summary: In 2867, Henry is a High Marshal in the City of London that’s lived in the posh Sector Two all of his life, while you’re just a low class stocker from Sector Twenty-Eight. But, what happens when the two of your lives collide in the worse way.
Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader
Word Count: 8,856
Rating: PG-13 - Futuristic!AU, Language, Politics, Dystopian, Angst, Social Differences, post-war world IV, some fluff, Artificial Intelligence, Advanced Technology, Crime, Indentured Servitude, Kidnapping, Imprisonment, Mentions of Graphic Violence.
Inspiration: I wondered what kind of futuristic fic I could write.
Author’s Note: Tell me what you think! Thank you to the marvelous @wondersofdreaming for the encouragement and beta!
Inspiration: This story ties into my Easter story, The Golden Egg.
Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!
If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLISTand turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy! @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY
“Babe!” Henry gasped, as he came into the living room, nearly tossing the steaming cup of tea in his hand, upon discovering you.
You were standing on the two-step high stool, to sprinkle golden tinsel on the fragrant and robust branches of an eight foot Fraser Fir that stood proudly in the corner of the living room. You chuckled, shaking your head at your husband, but didn't look back at him, as you picked a bit of tinsel off one of the emerald branches, having adorned the needles with too much of the sparkling, thin strands.
“You shouldn't be up there, love!” He scolded you, setting the tea he had made you on the coffee table as he rounded it and the couch, to come towards you, resting his hands on your hips. “I told you, I would help you decorate the tree, once I was done with your tea.”
“I know you did, Hen.” You answered, sighing softly, finally looking down at him and seeing the wrinkle of worry between his brow. It hadn't smoothed since the Brit found out you were pregnant with his child on Easter, nearly nine months before. “But I'm also capable of doing it myself.” You reminded him, resting a hand on his shoulder and giving his neck a gentle squeeze.
“I'm pregnant, not invalid.”
Henry sighed softly, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to your round and pronounced belly. “I know you're capable, sweetheart.” He assured you, looking up at you with an affection in his blue eyes that always melted your heart. “I just don't want you to get hurt. Especially with you so close to the due date.” He said, helping you step down off the stool. “Just sit down and enjoy your tea. Then, we'll tag team the tree together.” He told you, putting an excited smile on his face.
“All right.” You conceded, settling down on the couch and took up your tea, cupping the mug between your hands and letting the heat seep into your palms, before finally taking a sip.
“Your parents will be here in a couple days.” Henry commented, squatting beside a box of Christmas decorations neither of you had opened up yet. “My parents made up their guest house in preparation for their arrival.” He told you, peeking into the box.
Halfway into your pregnancy, Henry had taken time off from acting and the two of you decided to leave your secluded London home for the coziness of Henry's home island of Jersey. Buying a nice, beach front property, three streets and a five-minute walk from his parents' place, with the intent on having your baby boy born in Saint Helier. You loved being on the little Channel Island, sitting on the back patio or taking walks on the beach, breathing in the soothing sea air, which helped your morning sickness a good deal.
The only downside was your family was far out of reach of you, having to fly into Jersey to visit and check-in on you. Your parents wanted to be on hand when you finally had their third grand-baby, so Henry footed the bill to bring them out and his parents were amazing enough to host them while they were here.
“That's great.” You smiled, flexing your sore and swollen feet, watching him pull out ornaments, garland and other little tree decorations. “I can't wait to see them again.” You commented, not having seen them since your fourth month, just before you and Henry left for Jersey. “I'm sure my mom will bring more knitted items.” You chuckled, glancing over your shoulder to the soft, butter-yellow blanket your mother had knitted a couple months ago.
“I would be shocked, if she didn't!” Henry laughed back, his broad shoulders shaking as he stood. “What garland do you want on the tree?” He asked, holding up a strand of colorful beads and another of red and white, twisted ribbons.
You hummed, pressing your lips together and studied your tree, eyes narrowing slightly, scrutinizing the colors on its branches. “I think the ribbon would work best with it.” You finally settled, nodding content with your choice.
“All right then.” He nodded back, putting the other garland aside. “Ah, nope!” He tisked, when you set your tea down and started the mini struggle of standing up. “You put the tinsel on the tree, it's my turn to put the garland on. You relax.”
“Fair enough.” You sighed softly, picking your tea back up and rested against the couch cushions, just in time for Kal to jump up beside you. “Well, hello there, sweet boy.” You cooed at him, reaching out to give him good scratches between the ears and around the neck. “Have you come to make sure I stay put?” You quipped, the Akita resting his head in your lap.
“I did no such thing!” Henry called over his shoulder, carefully tucking the garland into the branches.
“Sure, love. Sure.” You chuckled at him, though Henry's protectiveness at times could be a little overbearing, you knew he did it out of love and first-time father worries. “He's paying you in treats and promises of all the good turkey, ham and brisket bits he plans on cooking for Christmas dinner.” You accused, lifting a brow at the unphased Akita, before wincing and pressing a palm to the side of your belly.
“You all right?” Henry asked, catching a glimpse from his peripheral, pausing a moment.
“Yeah, your son just kicks like a Fly-Half.” You answered, chuckling halfheartedly. “If he keeps these strong legs, he'll for sure make the England team.” You said, trying to ease the look of suspicion on Henry's face, that it was the baby kicking, and your own, that the pain was something more than a false contraction.
“You missed a branch there, Bubs.” You commented, drawing Henry's attention away from the subjection, motioning with your steaming black, Nightmare Before Christmas cup.
“Mm.” He grunted, narrowing his eyes at you, but turned to fuss over it.
You took a deep breath, rubbing the globe of your stomach, hoping to soothe any would-be pains. Thankfully, you didn't have any more throughout the morning, helping Henry put up the ornaments and other little hanging knick knacks on the tree. Something Henry was comfortable with you doing, since you kept your feet on the hardwood, safely beside him.
“I want to do a little plaster imprint of his hand and foot, to hang up on the tree for next year.” You commented suddenly, gently holding a little needlepoint ornament you'd made. It was a silhouette of Henry and you, with Kal between you, the year above your heads. You had made one every year since the first Christmas the three of you had spent together. “Should make a new needlepoint too.” You added even softer.
Henry glanced down at you, a fond and nostalgic light in his blue orbs. “I think that would be a lovely idea, babe.” He smiled, warmed at the idea. “I like the idea of making and expanding our little traditions.”
“I should have given myself a baby bump in this one.” You joked, carefully adding the stitched ornament on a branch, accompanied with the others around it. “So much for accuracy.”
“It looks perfect, my love.” He assured you, kissing your hair. “Now, let's turn the lights on and see how this thing looks!” He proclaimed, shuffling around the tree and plugged in the two strings of lights skillfully wrapped around the tree.
You stood back to get a good look at the Fir, just as the tiny, cool and warm-white LED, diamond facet bulbs flickered on. Making many of the ornaments glitter and twinkle. It brought a great feeling of delight bubbling up inside of you, tugging on your exhausted and hormonal raged body, until tears spilled over.
“Sweetheart.” Henry cooed, pouting at you sweetly, as he closed his arms around your shoulders, hugging you as closely as your belly would allow.
“It looks beautiful.” You mumbled into his chest, fingers gripping at the sides of his shirt.
He smiled, nosing the hair at the top of your head and rubbing your back with one hand. “It is, dear, and so are you.”
“I'm also starving.” You blurted out, breaking the melancholy mood.
“Butter chicken or pepperoni and feta pizza?”
“Oh god, you know me too well at this point.” You giggled, licking your lips. “But, the butter chicken.”
You sat up in bed, Kal resting between your legs, with his head laying on your belly, as you read your latest book on your Kindle. While Henry was downstairs doing some work on the new Warhammer minis he ordered as a way to keep himself occupied, when he wasn't taking care of you.
“Oh.” You gasped, feeling a sudden, sharp pain. “Gosh, did we disagree on the butter chicken, Bean?” You groaned, pressing your palm to the side of your stomach; Kal lifting his to sniff at your belly as another pain caused you to cramp. “It's all right, Bud. Your brother is just being a little difficult.” You sighed, setting your e-reader on your nightstand and lumbered out of bed, before heading downstairs.
“Hey, love.” Henry smiled, looking up from the Ultramarine mini in his hand. “I thought you were going to bed.”
“I was trying to, but your son doesn't agree with dinner.” You explained to him, looking over his progress on his Warhammer army. “Can you do your trick?” You asked, lulling your head to the side and giving him a cute look.
Henry chuckled, setting his mini down. “My trick.” He smirked, standing up and moving behind you. “Any reason to cuddle.” He teased, reaching around to cup both hands beneath your stomach and leaned you both backwards, taking the weight of your belly as he did.
“Mmm.” You hummed, eyes falling shut, while you let your head rest against Henry's chest. “It feels so good.” You sighed, resting your hands on his.
Henry cradling your baby bump had become a god send throughout your third trimester. Taking the weight of your healthy and active baby boy off your lower back and hips. However in your earlier trimesters, the two of you learned it helped relieve your heartburn and whenever your little one got a bit too restless.
You liked to think it was the baby reacting to Henry's touch.
It was calm for a long, few moments, just you and Henry, slowly swaying side to side, the baby calm. But again, your stomach spasmed and you whimpered, making it clear to Henry, you were indeed having some sort of contractions.
“How long has this been going on?” He asked, eyes wide and brows pinched.
“Since this morning.” You confessed finally, taking slow, deep breaths.
“Why didn't you tell me?” He demanded, startled and worried.
“I didn't have any through the afternoon.” You assured him, patting his hands. “I figured it was just false. But, I'm starting to think otherwise, with how much that one hurts.”
“We should probably go to the hospital.” Henry fret, starting away from you, but you turned and caught his elbow.
“Henry.” You said in a soft, soothing voice. “You remember what the OB said?” You tried reminding him. “Four-One-One.”
“Four minutes apart, a minute long, lasting an hour.” He recited, having listened to your OB, and read numerous baby and expecting parent books.
You had taken a couple of parenting classes as well. Until people started posting photos of you on social media, annoying you and causing Henry to be even more of a papa bear. So, you'd found an online, private class to do in the comfort of your living room.
“Not one has lasted a minute, been four minutes apart or lasted an hour.” You assured him, dropping your hand to his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “If they're the real deal, I'm in the early stages and going to the hospital now will only incur hours and hours of waiting. Which we'll be doing here anyway.”
“What if something happens?”
“Nothing is going to happen, you worry-wart.” You chuckled at him, shaking your head. “Come to bed with us.” You cooed, pushing up on your toes, kissing his bearded cheek and brushing your fingers through the curls above his ear.
“You'll tell me.” Henry insisted as he followed you upstairs to the master bedroom.
“Of course, I'll tell you, Henry.” You assured him. “Then, I'll tell Kal.” You quipped, trying to lighten the mood and get him to smile.
But he didn't smile, his mind preoccupied with making sure everything was ready, should you wake him up and tell him your contractions were growing close together.
Did I get the car seat in the Audi correctly? Where did I put the hospital bag? In this closet or the coat closet downstairs? Everything's in it she and the baby needs, right?
“Babe.”
Perhaps I should just go down and get it, to make sure. What about the nursery? Thank God, I finished the crib last month!
“Hen..”
Do we need more diapers? Are they the right size? What if--
“Henry!” You called out, when he didn't answer you, a far off and growing alarm look in his cerulean eyes, startling him out of his worried trance. “Everything is all right.” You said slowly, holding his gaze steadily. “We have everything we need. Everything the baby needs. If we don't, that's perfectly fine. Your parents and mine have offered their help, should it arise. As have your brothers.”
“I don't know how you're so calm.” He sighed, shaking his head and dropping down on his side of the bed.
You laughed, smirking. “I'm not calm. But there's no use for us both freaking out, especially at the same time. Besides, when I freak out, I have you to pull me back together, the least I can do is return the favor, when you start to lose it.” You told him, maneuvering yourself back under the covers.
“What's a spouse for?”
“You're right.” Henry nodded, turning the light out and resting against the headboard beside you. “One of the many reasons I love you, and married you.” He said, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing your knuckles.
Snuggling down, your back pressed against Henry's chest with his hand ever present on your belly, you tried to focus on falling asleep.
“You know.” Henry commented, half-asleep himself. “I sort of miss when you were in your first and second trimesters.”
“Oh?” You mumbled back, with interest.
“Yeah, you were always jumping my bones.” He laughed, shaking the bed with his mirth. “Well, until the end of your second trimester, when your belly got too big to do anything other than waddle and ride my cock.”
You were instantly awake again at his words. A huge smile of hot guilt and embarrassment on your face, that you hid in your pillow. It was true! The first stages of your pregnancy had made you quite frisky towards Henry. Sometimes so much so, he hadn't recovered from the last time you'd had sex and would need to pleasure you in other ways to bring your arousal down. Not that the man complained about it! But a couple weeks into your third trimester, the raging inferno of your passions cooled off. Even beyond what they were before you were expecting. You were just too tired and sore, uncomfortable, and just ready to give birth, to think of such things. But again, Henry didn't complain. You were grateful for that, because you felt bad that your mood didn't match his, at the moment.
Having seen the look of concupiscent on his face more than once, as the two of you showered together, went to bed or woke in the mornings. But you just didn't have it in you, and he took it with grace and understanding acceptance, not pressuring you or making you feel like a bad partner, for not reciprocating.
The two of you calmed down and allowed each other to finally fall asleep.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Henry asked, the next morning as the two of you finished breakfast.
“I feel all right, Bubs. Only a few pains here and there.” You answered, polishing off your usual cup of chamomile tea, something that had been a staple throughout your pregnancy, to battle your morning sickness and heartburn. “Excited to make cookies with your mum.”
Henry smiled across the table at you. “Good. I bet all these sugary smells are going to drive you and wee man nutty.”
It was a Cavill family tradition to get together, before Christmas, and make cookies for the big family dinner party, as well as to give out as tokens to friends and neighbors. It was also considered quite the honor among the Cavill brothers' wives to have Marianne ask to join her in the massive production. Since she didn't ask just anyone to help her; having a couple secret family recipes to protect in the process. But Marianne had asked, surprisingly and much to Henry's pride, you to help her, at your and Henry's first Christmas. Something that made one or two of Henry's sisters-in-law jealous, especially since the two of you were new and still dating, and one of them had never been asked.
Even to this day.
“Our mouths are already watering for your mother's chocolate chip, mocha cookies.” You confessed; it was one of the many things you looked forward to for Christmas. Marianne's chocolate chip, mocha flavored cookies were something you'd start a fight over, as were her chocolate covered, Oreo truffles with peppermint bark crumble on top. “Oh god.” You moaned, stuffing the last bit of bland, buttered toast into your mouth; Henry laughing at you.
“I'm going to roast up another heritage turkey this year.” He commented, finishing his coffee, then helped clear the breakfast table. “Everyone seemed to love it last year.”
“That's fine with me.” You answered, loading the soap dispenser and starting the dishwasher. “I have one small request.”
“You could make an enormous request, love!” Henry snorted, taking a protein shake out of the fridge.
“I want yams with roasted marshmallows on top.” You told him, confidently. “To myself.”
“To yourself?” He echoed, a smirk on his lips. “How big is the dish?”
“A small one is fine. I just don't want to share it.” You confessed your craving to him.
Letting out a laugh and nodding, Henry shrugged. “All right then. I'll make sure you have your roasted marshmallow covered yams, and I'll have Kal guard them.”
“Excellent.” You nodded back, then looked at your watch. “We should get going. Your mother asked us to get there before ten.” You informed him, heading for the front door and eased yourself down on a small bench that was there.
Henry joined you, squatting down to grab your shoes from underneath the bench and slipped them on your feet, tying them securely, since your prominently belly prevented you from reaching your feet to put on your shoes. Let alone tie them. Your shoes on and helping you back up, Henry got his own shoes on, but paused as he opened the door for you and Kal. He glanced back at the hall closet. Biting his lip, he hurried over and grabbed the baby bag from inside, then dashed after you, putting the bag in the back as he got behind the wheel.
“Just in case.” He answered your lifted brow.
“Fair, I suppose.” You shrugged, unable to argue with his logic.
“How are you holding up, my love?” Henry asked, peeking into the kitchen, before shuffling over to you, sure his mother wouldn't shoo him out.
“My cookie restraint thinned dramatically after the second batch.” You confessed, looking around at all the Santa's, snowmen, candy canes and snowflakes that were either waiting to go into the oven or cooling. “However, your mum apparently anticipated this. Making me batch yesterday, so I could nibble on them, while we made these.”
Henry grinned, touched at his mother's thoughtfulness. “That was sweet of her.” He cooed, brushing the back of his fingers over your cheek. “Have you had any more pains?” He asked, his brows pinching slightly, worried.
“Nothing concerning.” You told him, closing your hand around his wrist. “You know I'd come get you.” You tried assuring him, giving him a soft smile. “Or your mum would, should my water break.” You giggled, a smile turning into a smirk.
“That's not funny, babe.” Henry snapped softly, eyes big.
You pressed your lips together, guilty, before pushing up on your bare toes, having taken off your shoes for the long standing in the kitchen, to press your lips against Henry's. “I'm sorry, Puppy.” You mumbled against them, before reaching around him, grabbing a finished Snowman, presenting it to his mouth in place of your own. “I baked and decorated this one myself.” You grinned at him, a glitter of pride in your eyes.
“Oh, did you?” He cooed, opening his mouth to admit the round biscuit of white icing, adorned with two black chocolate pearls for eyes and smaller black sugar pearls for a mouth. It had a carrot nose, made of orange icing and the upper crown of the biscuit was covered in purple, blue and white hundreds and thousands, then outlined with silvery snowflake-shaped sprinkles.
Taking the biscuit from you, Henry nibbled on it, already knowing it would be delicious, since you had made it with his family's age-old recipe. “You know.” He mumbled around his mouthful. “I can't wait to share these with our little guy.” He said, smirking down at the bake, before glancing around the kitchen.
“Well, technically, I've already done that.” You giggle, running your hand over the globe of your belly.
Henry snorted loudly, his smirk growing. “You have me there, my love.” He replied, finishing his treat off, reaching out to lay his hand on your stomach as he saw the moments of your son shift, pressing either an elbow or knee out. “Still trips me out to see him move inside of you.” He commented, feeling something around nudge against his palm.
“You should feel it from this end.” You huffed, making a face at the kicks as he tumbled about, prodding a heel into your ribs and a shoulder into your slowly screaming bladder. “Poor bud is running out of space in there.” You cooed, moving your hand to cup the underside of your stomach.
“That he is.” He agreed, leaning down to press a kiss to your belly. “But, soon he'll be out here with us.”
“Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill.”
A cold chill washed down Henry's back, making the little hairs on his neck stand up as he straightened. “Mum.” He squeaked, looking at her over your shoulder.
“You know the rules of setting foot in my kitchen, while we bake.” Marianne scolded her second youngest.
“I do.” He nodded, biting his lip as he half smirked at her. “I was just checking up on her and our little one.” He explained, motioning to you.
Marianne's gaze shifted, her soft and kind blue eyes looking you over. She had noticed the few contractions you'd experience while helping her bake, and had sharpened her eye on you even more. Everyone in the family had a side eye on you it seemed, with your due date so nearby, like they were concerned you would pop like a water balloon.
“I'm fine.” You sighed softly, offering her a reassuring smile.
“Then, you can pop out of our kitchen.” Marianne said, cocking a brow at her son.
You chuckled, loving the nonchalance she had. “We'll see you later, my dear.” You cooed at him, kissing the corner of his mouth, tasting the sugar on his lips and inciting a need for another cookie from your stash. “Off you go.” You giggled, patting him on the chest and set your eyes on your task.
Henry looked at his mother with a pointed look, gesturing towards you, to which Marianne answered with a roll of her eyes and picked up a sheet of cookies needing to go into the oven.
“My back is to you, Henry, not my senses.” You shot over your shoulder, cutting out more cookies from the dough.
“Christ alive, our son has his work cut out for him.” He chuckled, winking at you as he turned to leave and rejoin his brothers and dad in the living room.
You looked over at Marianne and laughed, your mother-in-law joining in, the two of you amused he didn't realize you'd seen her roll her eyes.
“That boy.” Marianne chuckled, shaking her head as she moved to stand beside you, helping portion out the raw dough.
“He's freaked out.” You commented, gently laying a Santa on the sheet.
“Understandably.” She answered, wielding the snowflake cutter with skill. “The first baby is always the most stressful, and Henry's wanted to be a father for a very long time.”
“I know he has.” You nodded, feeling your stomach lightly bump the edge of the counter. “I'm happy and excited for our little one.” You told her, wadding up the scrap dough, then picked up a rolling pin. “I'm definitely ready not to be pregnant anymore.” You snorted, smiling faintly.
“And your worries?” Marianne asked, tilting her head at you, without pausing her work.
You drew in a slow, deep breath. “I'm worried about the labor. I'm terrified about whether or not I'll make a good parent.” You confessed to her, letting your breath out. “I know Henry will, he's incredible with kids. I love watching him with his younger fans, with his nieces and nephews.” You gush, grinning at the flashes of memories. “Seeing him hold Ellie, when we first met her--” You shook your head, a bubble of emotions overwhelming you for a moment, til you cleared your throat.
“You'll be a great mother.” Marianne reassured you, running her hand up and down your back. “You have nothing to worry about there. You'll have me and your mum to help you, as well as Heather and all the other girls.”
“I know.” You nodded, resting your shoulder against hers. “And I appreciate it, with all my heart.”
“Why don't you go upstairs, to Henry's old room, and rest for a bit?” She suggested to you. “I can finish the cookies with Heather.”
“Are you sure?” You frowned, glancing around the organized chaos of the kitchen.
“Yes.” She nodded, resting her hands on your shoulders and turning you away from the counter. “You and my grandson need all the rest you can get.” She directed you towards the entry of the kitchen. “Soon, you won't have it.”
Henry saw his mum guiding you and instantly jumped up from the couch, where he sat beside his brother Simon. “Are you all right, honey?” He cooed, his handsome face pinching.
“She's fine, Henry.” Marianne replied, looking up at him. “She just needs to rest a bit. Take her upstairs.”
“All right.” He nodded, taking your arm and showed you upstairs to the bedroom that was his as a kid. “Can I get you anything? Some water, maybe.” He asked, helping you lay back on the made, full-size bed.
“I'm all right, Puppy.” You sighed, rubbing your face.
“What's wrong, honey?” He asked, pulling up a chair from the desk in his room and sat down in front of you.
“Nothing's wrong.” You replied, sighing, flexing your plump toes as Henry grasped your foot in his hands. “I'm just tired and sore.” You told him, closing your eyes as you let out a soft moan, feeling Henry's thumbs work your arch.
“I got the Dad Talk from my dad and brothers.” He chuckled, gently touching the tip of your toes, each painted a cute red color, that he had done himself about a week before.
He had started giving you little at home, medi-pedis to treat you to something nice. Though, it had taken him a couple tries to get painting your nails down. Admitting it wasn't as simple as painting his Warhammer Minis, like he'd thought.
You giggled back, smirking. “Did they?” You hummed, letting your eyes fall shut. “Any good advice?”
“Um, Simon said that I should explain my job to him as soon as we think he can understand it.” Henry recalled, biting his lip with an amused smirk pulling across his mouth. “So, we don't have another Thomas Incident on our hands.”
“My dad's Sherlock Holmes!” You replied, laughing aloud. “Or god-knows who else!”
“Exactly.” He nodded, amused by it too. “My dad suggested, should we have any more kids, to have girls, that way it doesn't continue on the Cavill boy madness, like dead arms and throwing each other off the couch.”
“I would like, at least, one girl, anyway.” You told him, laying your hand on your stomach, feeling your son shift and kick again, wincing as he did.
“Same.” He smirked, as excited as he was for a son, he had wanted a girl too. “Maybe the next one.”
“Mmm.” You hummed back, falling silent and drifting slightly.
Taking the hint, Henry rested your legs in his lap and leaned back, closing his own eyes to rest. Both of you were exhausted from the months of preparation for the baby, all the worrying about if you would be good parents and protecting your son against the world of social media and paparazzi. But the pair of you had only laid there for twenty or so minutes, before you jerked at a sharp pain, inadvertently kicking Henry in the stomach as you did.
Henry gasped and groaned at the blow, doubling over. “Babe?” He rasped, frowning across at you, finding you half sitting up, hand cupping the underside of your stomach with a look of shocked horror on your face. “What's wron—oh shit!” He snapped, seeing the wet patch seeping through your leggings and onto the duvet on the bed.
“Was that--”
“Uh-huh.” You nodded, gulping thickly.
“It's okay, all right.” He nodded, running both hands through his curls. “Up we go.” He said, holding his shaking hands out to you, pulling you up and wrapping an arm around your waist. “Broke your water on my childhood bed.” He commented offhandedly, letting out a nervous chuckle.
“It is where we had our first kiss.” You added, lifting a brow at him. “Why not this too!”
“Mum!” Henry called out as you reached the bottom of the stairs. “We have to go.” He said as Marianne rounded the corner from the living room. “Someone's water broke.”
“Oh gosh!” She exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “Go hurry!” She shooed the two of you towards the door, before spinning on her feet. “Code blue everybody!” She shouted at the family gathered in the living room, snapping them into gear, sending brothers and in-laws scrambling everywhere.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Henry asked as he helped you buckle your seatbelt.
“Like I just peed myself.” You snorted, clutching your belly. “Henry.” You cooed at him, watching him make jerky movements but not move from your side. “Hen!” You called, reaching out to grab his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake.
“Huh?” He whimpered, blinking a few times.
“My shoes are still in the house.” You informed him, offering your sweet partner a smile.
“Oh right!” He nodded, kissing your hand and backing away to close your door, then raced back inside, running into a gaggle of his family fighting to put on shoes and coats. “Excuse me, pardon me!” He barked, diving into the huddle, scrabbling for your shoes.
“Henry!” Nik shouted after him.
“I forgot her shoes!” Henry yelled over his shoulder, pelting back to the car. “Got them!” He smiled, sliding home into the driver's seat and dropping them onto the center console. “I'll put them on you, when we get to the hospital.” He told you, starting the car and pulling away from the curb, while ordering Alexa to map the route to Jersey General Hospital, the very hospital where he and his brothers had been born.
“Speed limit, Cavill!” You reminded him, frowning.
“Baby!”
“He's not going to pop out right now!!”
“He could!
“Between the two of us, Hank, I'm damn sure he's not!” You snapped back, through a contraction. “Deep b-breaths! ” You wheezed, through the pain.
“Relax your shoulders, don't clench your jaw, take a deep breath in....and let it out!” Henry reciting your Douala and doing the technique with you. “Amazing, baby doll. I'm so proud of you.”
“Jesus Christ on a motorbike.” You sighed as the pain faded. “We're waiting at least three years before we have our daughter.” You panted over at him.
“Yes, ma'am.” Henry laughed, holding his hand out to you. “Whatever you want.”
“I know what we should name him.” You said, softly.
“Oh?” He replied, pulling into the hospital parking lot. “What?”
You looked over at him, your expression soft. “I want to name him, Charlie.” You told him, biting the corner of your lip, you'd put a lot of consideration into it over your pregnancy. “We wouldn't have met, if your brother didn't nag you to come talk to me at that club.”
Biting his lip, a heart shaped lump thumping in his throat. “You're right.” He whispered; voice raw.
Charlie had prodded him for an hour, while supplying him with shots of liquid courage, to finally cross the club you both were in. You were with your friends, blowing off steam after a long work week, and Henry, Charlie and two other friends of Henry's were just hanging out, since he was in town and not working on any projects.
He never forgot the look on your friends' faces as he approached your table, recognizing him, melting into the dark leather of your corner booth and mumbling to each other with hungry, googly eyes. But you, while surprised a celeb was approaching you, hadn't fawned over him, like they did. You'd kept your cool, with jittery insides. Henry politely acknowledged everyone at the table, but his blue eyes were set on you. He asked, trying to have a persona of cool and calm, if he could get you a drink, noting on the way over, yours was empty, and with relief, you'd said yes. So, you dislodged yourself from your friends and followed him to the bar. Striking up a conversation with him, that moved to an empty table, after getting your drinks and lasted until the announcement the club was closing, at two am.
Neither of you had wanted to move apart, but it was late and you both knew it. So, you exchanged numbers and texted while you got yourselves home, then fell asleep. Making the promise to have a proper dinner the next day.
All of which snowballed to this moment. Sitting in the car at the hospital, married and staring at each other between contractions, discussing the name you wanted for your first born, for your son.
“It's perfect.” He nodded, reaching out to cup your cheek. “I could ask for nothing more for Christmas, than you and our son, for Charlie.” He choked up, leaning across to kiss you deeply.
Summary: Everyone around you is too busy getting drunk and making out, while you are just dying for this dreadful Christmas party to be over. But just as you plan to leave, you catch the eye of a very hungry August Walker.
Pairing: August Walker x Reader (2nd pov)
Word count: 1K
Warnings: Passion, romance, sexual innuendo, a “thrill of the chase” if this may trigger anyone and mild alcohol use.
A/N: Okay this Christmas drabble came to me in a dream a month ago, and I had to write it down but waited for today to post it. Many thanks to the love of my life @agniavateira who did my beta so quickly!
Summary: Henry becomes a father... Just not how he thought it would happen.
Word count: 2.160
Warnings: mentions of domestic violence, lots of fluff
"Six?"
"Six."
"Six children?"
"Well not biologically, but.... yes."
(Y/n) looked uncertainly at Henry. The blue eyes stared at her in disbelief.
"You have six children living in your house?"
She sighed. That was always the point at which every guy ran away.
"I understand if that's too much for you," she began.
Henry shook his head still in disbelief, but grinned. "Do you ever sleep, or do you just get used to sleep deprivation?"
She smiled cautiously. Didn't trust the peace yet, though. "To be honest there are two kids one 9 and one 12 and four pubescent teenagers."
He regarded her quietly across the restaurant table. "Are you okay?" he asked, "Did I say something wrong? I know my reaction may have been a little surprised, but I didn't mean to cut you in."
She relaxed a little. "It's just... Most guys run away as soon as they hear that, and that would really be .... a shame."
Henry smiled and shook his head. "I don't run away. I hate cardio."
That made her smile.
"But you'll still have to tell me how you get to adopt six children and teenagers.... And that as a single woman in her mid-twenties."
"It's like cats. Somehow I guess it doesn't stay with just one." She tipped her wine glass. "The first one was Jason. He was the son of my neighbors at the time and would come by my apartment every so often in the afternoon until his mother got home. One night he showed up at my door bleeding. His father caught him with make up and beat him black and blue. It took a while, but then he could move in with me. He's graduating from high school this summer. He has even been accepted to a make up school. He wants to go into film as a makeup artist." She smiled softly. "He's come a long way."
Henry curtsied in shock at the story. "Fatima is 16 and has been disowned by her family for not being a virgin. She has ambitions to study law. I don't think anyone will stop her from going to Oxford. Mike is almost 16 - next week - and grew up without a father and even though his mother tried everything, she has high level schizophrenia. She has been institutionalized and now lives in care. We visit her whenever her condition allows it. Mini - Emilia ran away at some point. We don't really know what happened. She is 14. Kamon is 12 and comes from a refugee family. His parents have been sent back to Thailand. We are trying to get a visa for them. Until then, I'm kind of his foster family. He and Mike are not officially adopted. Both love their family and do everything for them, even if they can't always be there. And Lilly. She is 9. Her family died in a car accident. No family member has been found."
She was silent for a moment and continued to contemplate her wine before looking up and looking at Henry.
"Henry... I understand if this is too much, but.... they've all been through enough in their lives and every single one of them has their reasons for making it hard for new people in our family. So if, against all odds, you say yes to this circus, know that it's not so easy to get out of it either." Her gaze became insistent. "If you leave me, that's one thing, but I won't do that to the kids."
Henry, who hadn't said anything all this time, took one deep breath and reached for her hand lying on the table. He smiled. "If they're willing to meet me, so am I."
Henry stood in front of a gigantic house. His house was already big, but this one surpassed it. Despite its size, however, it didn't seem ostentatious. It looked cozy and inviting. The word 'home' popped into his head.
Shouts and frantic footsteps sounded from inside.
He pressed his thumb on the doorbell. Immediately, everything went silent.
The door opened with a jerk. A dark-skinned boy stood before him, beaming at him. From the colored eyeliner, he concluded that it must be Jason.
"Hello Mr. Cavill." he said in a noticeably loud voice.
Immediately, frantic footsteps sounded and he saw scattered bodies running through the background.
"Hi. Henry will do." he smiled.
"Come on in. I'm Jason. Ehhm... (Y/n) isn't here yet.... Mike had... They had to go to the hospital."
"Is he okay?"
Jason shrugged. "Normally, he is. Boxer you know... Tea?"
"Gladly."
He stepped into the house. It was swept as if empty, yet the traces of life could be seen in it. Self-painted pictures. Photographs. Various equipment for hobbies. Shoes in different sizes. And that was just the hallway. Henry let himself be led into the kitchen and sat down on one of the chairs. None matched the other.
"Mike had a match this morning. (Y/n) said he's already patched up. They're already on their way here."
Henry smiled. "With something like this, you should take your time."
Jason set the steaming cup down for him and sat with him.
Henry accepted it gratefully. "It's very quiet."
"Be glad." was all he said, sipping his tea. "I don't want to chase you away, but it's like human history here. The periods of absolute peace are relatively negligible." He ran his index finger over the rim of his cup and grinned. "And I'm one of the worst divas here. Just a warning."
The front door opened and a rumble sounded, followed by an amused giggle. "Sorry about that." a boy's slurred voice rang out.
"That's okay big guy. Come on off to bed." he heard (y/n).
"I'm fine!"
"That's because they drugged your ass off so you can't feel your face."
"Where's Ammy?"
"Mike you need to rest now. You can call Amber when you're in bed."
"Who are you?" A blond boy in a gray sweatshirt and swollen face looked at him from the doorway, aghast. "Who's that?" he turned to (Y/n).
"A friend Mike. That's a friend. Jason stop filming him!"
Still grinning, Jason put the phone away and turned to Henry. "Welcome."
"What's the dog's name?", Kamon asked him.
"That's Kal...like Superman." he smiled at the shy boy.
"I like Batman."
Henry rolled his eyes playfully. "Oh yeah, why?"
"Batman watches out for kids nobody else wants. Like (y/n)."
Henry smiled.
"I told you not to rummage through my things!" yelled Emilia down the hall.
Henry and (Y/n) sat in the garden each holding a book.
"I wasn't rummaging. I was getting MY eyeshadow, that you stole from MY room!" shouted back Jason. "It's not my fault you leave your lovey-dovey fanfictions lying around in the open like that!"
"You have no business in my room!"
"That being said - Tom Holland? Really?"
A splintering sound rang out.
"I guess that was the vase, then," (Y/n) sighed.
"I would have thought she was more of a Sebastian Stan type," Henry reflected loudly.
"How long has she been sitting there?" whispered Henry to (Y/n).
"Since this morning. She hasn't looked up from that book in five hours."
Fatima sat at the large parlor table surrounded by books, writing notes and index cards.
"That's impressive. Scary, but impressive."
Kal walked over to the table and nudged her.
"I have to study! Sit!" Kal obeyed immediately and sat next to her chair.
"She'd make a good drill sergeant," Henry grinned.
(Y/n) sipped her coffee. "You've never seen her in exam stress."
"This isn't exam stress?"
"This is relaxed studying."
Henry looked in shock at the girl with noise cancelling headphones. (Y/n) grinned into her cup.
"They need more glitter!" determined Lilly.
Henry reached for the can of edible glitter and sprinkled more of it on the unicorn cookies.
"Like this?"
The little girl looked thoughtfully at the tin. "Like this."
Henry bowed theatrically and slid the tin into the oven. "All for your majesty." The girl giggled.
(Y/n) just watched with a smile.
Jason and Mike sat on the sofa grinning together at a tablet, each with headphones in their ears.
This wasn't normal. Even Henry knew that by now. He wondered if they were both watching porn. He'd been that age once, too. He knew what that was like.
(Y/n) came into the living room and looked over there shoulders at the two of them. She laughed uncontrollably grunting, but immediately suppressed it and came over to him.
No porn, he concluded.
"What about these two?" asked Henry, pulling her to him on the sofa and onto his lap.
"Just a movie," she grinned.
"What movie?"
She continued to shake her head with a grin and waved it off. Henry was very reluctant to be shut out. So he sat (y/n) down next to him on the sofa and stood behind the two teenagers. When he saw his younger self in a black hoodie grinning and holding up a tarot card, he groaned in annoyance.
The boys snorted indignantly. Henry looked defiantly at the display.
"Oh come on Sweet Cheeks! What's wrong?" asked (Y/n) with a laugh.
He looked at her with an intensity that promised she would pay for this yet. She could hardly wait.
"What's with the hair?" laughed Jason.
"It was in back then!"
Henry stood in the kitchen making coffee while there was the familiar bustle around him. Kamon couldn't find his second shoe, Lilly needed a certain T-shirt, Jason occupied the bathroom, Mike shoveled eggs into his mouth, Fatima just drank the coffee straight out of the pot, and Emilia hid behind a book.
He could hardly believe that over a year should have passed already.
They had grown close to his heart. He didn't want to miss the chaos at all. The last time he left for a job, it seemed almost eerie how quiet it was that night. He had told (y/n) about it over Skype. She'd just grinned and said those feelings liked to sneak up on one.
"Do you think they want me in their life?" he had asked her uncertainly.
She had only smiled. "Wait a minute." She disappeared and came back a moment later with a piece of paper. She held it up to the camera. "Lilly drew this for you today." It showed eight roughly drawn people. Under each one, in capital letters, was the name.... except for (y/n) and him. It just said Mum and Paps. Henry stared wide-eyed at the screen. "Please act surprised when you come back. It's supposed to be a gift.", she put the paper back down. "Are you crying?"
Henry had remained silent. He had only nodded.
He smiled at the memory. The picture hung framed in the hallway. It had become Henry's favorite picture.
"Car one go!", (y/n) called down the stairs.
The three mismatched teens got up from the table and walked to (y/n)s car.
Henry packed the last of the snacks into Lilly and Kamon's lunchboxes before he, too, packed them into his cat and drove them to school. Jason had a little break from make up school and stayed at home.
Henry came back earlier than (y/n). He waited patiently for her in the kitchen. Looked at the mismatched chairs and the photos on the wall. Photos that now included him. (Y/n) came shortly after him and dropped into her usual seat next to him. She reached for the waiting cup of coffee and dropped her head on his shoulder. "How did I do this alone before?"
Henry laughed.
"I mean it. Don't you dare leave! I can't take it anymore!"
Henry just smiled at her. He got up from his chair and knelt down in front of her. He pulled a small box out of his pocket and held it in front of him. "I wouldn't want to spend the rest of my life anywhere but with you and the kids. (Y/n) will you marry me?"
She looked at him with shocked eyes. "Are you sure?"
He nodded with a smile. "I want to take Lilly to her dance lessons. I want to be there when Jason gets his first jobs. I want to see Fatima come top of her year at Oxford - in law AND medicine." They both laughed. "I want to cheer Mike on in his competitions. I want to watch Emilia find the romance she secretly wants. I even want my heart to break when Kamon is reunited with his parents. I want to be with you. I want to be with the children. I don't want to run away. I want to be part of this family."
"You already are," she smiled, crying. She pulled him close and kissed him.
Summary: Upon receiving a mysterious and anonymous invitation to a Halloween party, a chauffeur takes you to an LA mansion estate for the party; where you meet your mystery man for an All Hallow's Eve you'll never forget.
Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader + Mystery Character/Reader
Inspiration: It’s Halloween and Kinktober! Posting now for Friday, the 13th!
Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!
If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLISTand turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!
“So, who is your date?” Your best friend asked, glancing at you through the mirror you were using to put the finishing touches on your Harley Quinn costume.
“I don't know.” You answered, turning your head side to side, making sure you'd gotten everything perfect. “I just got a card delivered, stating it was from someone I know and asking if I would join them for an enchanting night.”
“And you're sure it's not from a stalker?” She asked, planting her hands on her hips.
“I'm sure it's not, Maggie.” You giggled at her, shaking your head. “Few people know my nickname, and it was noted on the card. So, I know it's from someone inside our circle of friends. Stop fretting over it.” You told her, getting up and facing her. “If it's someone I don't like in our circle or I'm uncomfortable with, I'll call you.”
“You better!” Maggie huffed, wagging a finger at you.
“Yes, ma'am.” You smirked, giving her a quick hug. “I have to go, they asked me to meet them at nine. Have fun handing out candy and protecting the house from tricksters!” You called out to her, grabbing your jacket and black, cross body, boho bag as you headed out the door.
You were about to unlock your car, when another pulled up at the bottom of the driveway, a matte black Cadillac Lyriq, and a man in a classy, black suit stepped out of the driver's seat, casting his eyes around as if to make sure he had the right address, before settling them on you.
“Are you the young lady that lives here?” He asked, motioning to the two-story house you lived in with Maggie, positioned on a cliff that gave the two of you access to your own private sandy beach on the LA coast.
“One of them.” You answered, narrowing your eyes at him suspiciously. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, going into the inside pocket of his jacket to pull out a small, black card and approached you with it held out. “I was told to give you this, then take you downtown.”
Taking the card from him, you read the gilded, blood-red lettering on it: 'My love, please allow me to treat you on this night together. My driver, Marco, will ensure you arrive safely, so we may enjoy our spooky festivities.'
“A lot of cloak and dagger going on with your employer.” You smirked at Marco, touched and amused, as you tucked the card into your bag.
Marco smirked and nodded his head. “Yes, he's having a good time with it. But he's quite eager to meet up with you.” He chuckled, offering his arm to you as you started down the slightly sloped driveway and ushered you to the back passenger-side door, opening it and handing you inside.
You settled in the backseat, pulling your mobile from your bag and texted Maggie. He sent me a chauffeur.
Maggie: Fancy!
During the drive, you snapped some photos of yourself, posting them on your Instagram, wishing everyone; family, friends and fans alike, a happy Halloween before pocketing it and glancing out the window. The quiet hills you lived in, dotted with beautiful homes, started to fall away for the speed and lights of downtown Los Angeles. Traffic thickened, forcing Marco to slow the Cadillac down until it stopped several cars behind a red light.
“Are you allowed to tell me where we're going?” You asked, leaning forward between the front seats. “Or is that to remain a secret?” You smirked as Marco glanced sideways at you.
“I am sworn to secrecy, my lady.” He smirked, winked and got the car rolling again.
Marco drove you across LA to the posh side of the City of Angels, where all of the famous people called home or a vacation getaway. He maneuvered the winding road, until pulling up to a towering, black ornate gate, pausing to enter the pass code, rolling the gate back and permitting you.
“Wow.” You uttered, eyes popping and mouth dropping, seeing the enormous mansion with a circle driveway and bubbling fountain, as you leaned even further between the seats, craning your neck to look out the front window.
It was elaborately decorated; nothing was left for the imagination with its decorations, and it was clear the owner of the home had no issue spending the money on their expenses. Pumpkin lights lined the driveway, the windows at the front of the house were backlit and flickering back and forth between orange and green, with vast and long threads of spiderwebs and cobwebs over them. There were hanging ghosts and skeletons in the trees, an extensive graveyard to one side, with body parts poking out of the mock graves. Everywhere you looked, something caught your eye, impressing you more and more.
“He really went all out.” You chuckled, as Marco stopped at the front door, the stairs leading up to the double doors flanked by massive gargoyles with glowing red eyes.
“Oh, this isn't his home.” Marco answered, releasing his seatbelt. “This is the home of a colleague. He was given an invitation to attend their party here and it had a plus one on it. So, he asked you to join him.” He explained, getting out of the car and opening your door.
“Ah.” You blinked, confused as you took his hand and slipped out of the car, met with a thump of distant music and festivities. “So, how am I supposed to meet my date?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.
“Go inside,” Marco said, motioning to the doors. “The butler at the door will ask you for the code word. It's 'Beetlejuice'. Once you've been admitted, ask them to show you to Lucifer's room.”
“Lucifer?” You purred, amused.
“Yes, ma'am.” He chuckled, nodding. “With that, I wish you a good evening and a happy Halloween.” He said, kissing your hand and getting back into the car.
“Cloak and Dagger much?” You snorted and made your way up the steps. “Oh Christ!” You yelped, as the gargoyles on either side of you came to life, roaring and turning their heads towards you, dropping their bottom jaws open. “Rude.” You panted, composing yourself as the front doors swung open, letting out a flow of music and murmur of voices from inside, and revealing a man dressed as a zombie-butler.
“Madam.” He regarded you, with a thick Scottish accent. “Are you here for the party?”
“I am.” You answered him, making it to the top of the stairs. “I believe the password is, Beetlejuice.”
He bowed his painted face. “Correct.” He turned and lifted a hand to usher you inside. “Please, come in. I'm Mr. Davison, should you require anything during your stay here, please find me.” He told you, closing the doors as the two of you stepped into a grand foyer, two twisting staircases on either side, leading up to a landing on the second floor. On the ground floor were three hallways, one straight ahead between the staircases, where you could see flashing lights with the bump and sway of bodies, and two hallways on either side of you.
“There is one thing you can help with, Mr. Davison.” You said over the noise, turning to face him. “I'm actually a plus one to an invited guest of this party. I was told by the driver my date sent to bring me, to ask to be shown to Lucifer's room.” You explained to him, biting your painted lip, while studying his gray, black and bloody face, butterflies filling your stomach. “Whomever Lucifer is, since he's been secretive about his identity since asking me out.”
Davison smirked, his dark eyes dancing with amusement, clearly knowing who your date and Lucifer was. “Of course, right this way.” He said, before guiding you up the left staircase.
You could feel the vibration of music through the floor as you followed him down the decorated hallway. Each door on either side decorated a different theme, such as Jack and Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas, Jason's mask and bloody machete from Friday the 13th, a Gothic door with an image of Bela Lugosi from Dracula and the doll, Jigsaw, from SAW. Davison stopped before a door, it was red with the silhouette of a pair of angel wings and a flaming halo with black horns.
“Lucifer.” You mumbled to yourself, watching Davison knock loud enough to be heard above the noise of the party, you were distracted by the zombie-butler stepping aside, as the door opened and revealed your date.
“You made it!” They declared to them, excited and relieved that you had come.
“Of course!” You answered, finally looking up at him, only to have your mouth drop open.
Standing before you in a stylish pair of black slacks, a matching vest over a light-gray dress shirt, the first few buttons undone and the long sleeves rolled up his forearms. At first, it wasn't much of an impressive costume, until you studied his face, he wore a touch of black eye-liner, that was slightly smudged, and poised on his forehead was a pair of glue-on horns, well blended in to match his skin color with at touch of red, as if it was a pain for him to have horns breaking through his otherwise angelic appearance.
“Henry!” You squeaked, surprised to see the Brit standing there, imitating Lucifer Morningstar from the DC comic and hit tv show.
“Hey.” He grinned, moving forward and hugging you. “You look great!” He said, stepping back again to look over your Harley Quinn costume, loving the gold, argyle overalls, pink sports bra, pink and blue hair and make-up. “You nailed Harley.” He commented, meeting your eyes again, finally noticing your surprise that he was the one that asked you out. “Oh.” He blushed, carding a hand through his hair.
“Right, I suppose I should explain myself. Why don't you come in?” He suggested stepping aside so you could enter the room. “Do you want something to drink? Davison can get you something.” He said, looking between you and the butler. “Anything you want.”
“We have several Halloween themed cocktails, wines, whiskey and such.” Davison told you, reappearing before the door.
“I'll have one of your cocktails.” You answered, with a small nod. “I'll leave that to your recommendation.”
“I would appreciate a refill as well, Davison.” Henry added in, with a polite nod.
“I'll bring them, presently.” He nodded back, and started downstairs.
“So, you're my date.” You said, entering the room with Henry, finding it was a sitting room that led into a bedroom.
“I am.” Henry smirked, closing the door. “I hope you're not...disappointed.” He said, looking at you with blue eyes that truly wished you weren't.
“I'm not at all disappointed.” You assured him, offering him a sweet smile. “Just surprised.” You confessed to him, pressing your lips together. “We had a couple interactions during the filming of Mission Impossible, but I wouldn't have guessed enough for you to notice me and to ask me out on a mysterious date to a high end LA party.”
“Oh, I noticed you the moment we were in the same room together.” He told you the truth of his feelings for you all over his face. “I tried drumming up the courage to ask you out so many times in those three months. I just kept chickening out, because I didn't think you'd say yes or be interested. So, when my friend sent me an invitation to his party here, you were my first thought on who to bring. But, again, I didn't think you'd say yes. Especially after we hadn't seen each other in a couple months. However, he suggested I send you a note asking you to come and send my driver to pick you up, to see what would happen.”
“You think I would say no to you?” You frowned at him, your brow pinching. “God, I would have said yes in a heartbeat.” You blurted out, shamelessly. “I admit, I wasn't going to come. I was suspicious about the motives and a little worried that it was set up by my stalker.”
Henry's face went blank for a moment, before it filled with worry and how stupid he felt. “I am so sorry. I didn't know you had a stalker, or I would have never been so secretive. I would have just asked you out right. I hope I didn't put you through any anxiety.”
You chuckled at him, shaking your head. “No, you didn't.” You assured him, waving it off. “You just set off my protective roommate, Maggie, who I should probably text and tell who my mystery man is, at some point.” You said, finding the whole thing amusing now.
There was a knock on the door and Davison came in with a small platter holding your and Henry's drinks, a skeleton hand wine-glass with a red shimmer liquid and a black substance around the rim. Beside that was Henry's squat glass of whiskey on the rocks, the ice shaped like a bone.
“Your Vampire's Kiss.” Davison said, as you took your glass. “Spiced rum, Cran-Grape juice, Grenadine and black sanding sugar.” He listed off the ingredients as you took a careful sip.
“Mmm.” You moaned, nodding your head. “Positively enchanting, thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He smiled, tucking the platter under his arm. “Enjoy your evening and the festivities.” He bid you and Henry, then saw himself out.
“Well, would you like to look around?” Henry asked, swilling his drink. “There's dancing and a bar downstairs and I've been told the backyard of the house has quite the surprise.”
“I'm not much for dancing.” You confessed, a shy smile crossing your face.
Henry looked a tad relieved at your words. “That's more than fine. I'm not either.” He chuckled, glancing down into the amber liquid in his glass. “The backyard then?”
“The backyard.” You nodded, smirking with an excited giddiness.
Nodding, Henry polished off his drink and set it on a small coffee table that was in the sitting room. You finished yours and put it beside his, then dropped your bag on the floor under the table. Henry opened the door, letting you enter the thrumming hallway first and followed, taking a key out of his pocket and locked the door behind you both.
“Worried about something?” You inquired, as he pocketed the key again.
“No.” He answered, shaking his head with a blank expression. “Better safe than sorry, I suppose.” He admitted, pressing his hand over the key. “Anyway, let's find out what's in the backyard.” He smiled, offering his hand out to you.
“If it's as good as the rest of the decorations I've seen, it'll be great.” You smiled back, taking his hand.
The two of you descended the spiral staircase you'd come up earlier, Henry paused and looked towards the hallway that led into the room where all the dancing was occurring, then looked at you.
“It's a little warm in here.” He said, even though it was cool in the foyer. “Why don't we go out the front and walk around the side?” He suggested, with an arched brow.
“Sounds fine to me.” You nodded, content with not going through the press of bodies on the dance floor to make it to the backyard.
Giving you a wink, Henry shifted your hand to his forearm and walked you to the entry, nodding to Davison. “We'd like to take a little stroll.” He informed the man, who nodded back and pulled open the double doors for you. “Thank you kindly.”
“So, are you in LA only for the party?” You asked as the two of you went down the steps, while mentally preparing yourself not to get frightened by the gargoyles again.
“No.” Henry chuckled, glancing away from you with a bashful smirk. “I just finished filming a movie in England. The first Enola Holmes movie, where I play Sherlock Holmes.” He explained, looking left and right for a moment, before guiding you towards the left. “I came out here after I finished, to take a little vacation, and suppose they heard I was in town and invited me.”
“A vacation, is that all?” You smirked at him, having a sneaking suspicion the Brit may have had an extra motive for coming out.
“Well,” He droned, rolling his eyes with a guilty smirk. “There may have been a certain lady I hoped to catch up with, while I was in the city.” He confessed, shooting you a glance from the corner of his eye. “Thankfully for me, I had the opportunity to.”
“Mmm, yes.” You nodded, cocking a brow at him and pressing your lips together. “Lucky for you.”
He patted your hand and grinned with boy-ish pride. “He really went all out for decor.” He commented, rounding the corner with you, to get met with tall, manicured hedges covered in webs and skeletons trying to break through and coming at you. The entryway cut into the hedges was covered with chains, obscuring your view of what was on the other side.
“That he did.” You agreed, twisting to look at the graveyard behind you. “I really like that makeshift graveyard over there. Very fright night.” You commented, rather eager to see what Henry's friend had down in their backyard. “Let's go in!” You giggled, moving towards the chain-cover entrance, your hand slipping down Henry's forearm, until you caught his hand and could pull him through after you.
Chuckling, Henry let you drag him into the side yard, finding scarecrows on either side, a bloody butcher's knife through the body of one as it rested on a cross of thin wooden poles and the another hung from the branch of a tree, swaying in the gentle, evening breeze. There were a few more graves, lining the path, leading towards the back of the house.
“Declan Hunley.” You read one of the grave markers. “Born 1879, dead 1910, killed for not looking behind him.” You frowned and looked up at Henry. “That's a weird mess-” You shrieked as the grave on the other side of the path burst open to reveal a gnarled zombie crawling out, growling and hissing, as you scrambled behind Henry in your terror.
Henry's heart rocked in his chest in surprise, instinctively putting an arm out between you and the flesh-eating monster. But a smile soon crossed his lips, guiding you around the zombie, who made decent grabs at your ankles, however made no attempt to crawl out of his grave to follow after you.
“Oh my gosh.” You panted, brushing your multi-colored hair out of your face, with shaking hands.
“It's all right.” Henry cooed, resting his hand on the small of your back, rubbing gentle circles. “I think he's still snacking on poor Declan.” He quipped, smirking at you.
You managed to laugh a little bit, your heart rate slowing down and collecting yourself. “Well, we know what the tombstone meant.” You sighed, shaking your head, feeling foolish for falling for it. “Suckered me.” You chuckled, then cast your eyes out over the backyard. “Oh wow.” You mumbled, eyes widening as your mouth dropped agape.
Henry turned and his brows went up. “Damn. I'll hand it to him, he didn't spare a shilling for all of this.” He commented, taking in the immaculate backyard.
The three sets of double doors leading out from where the dancing and bar was set up were open and brought out the sound of voices and music with them. There was a trickle of people on the patio, which was lit by standing torches of orange, green and red. Sitting on the furniture or huddled around the couple of blazing fire pits, were a few hired staff helping them roast marshmallows for S'mores or brew hot chocolate. Beyond the patio, were tall hedges and party-goers funneling into the opening, stopped only by someone at the entrance, before vanishing into the dark and glowing fog.
“I wonder what they're doing?” You muttered to yourself, brow creasing with curiosity.
“We can find out, if you want?” Henry said beside you, his head cocking to the side to see your face.
“Let's go!” You smiled, clapping your hands and dashing forward.
Henry laughed, amused and touched at your enthusiasm, before following after you. You were stopped at the entrance of the mysterious attraction by a man dressed up in a torn and bloody lab coat. A tall fridge with a clear door stood beside him, filled with green, red and blue test tubes.
“Beware!” The bedraggled doctor wheezed, reaching out to prevent you and Henry from going any further. “There's a deadly pathogen inside the maze!” He panted, looking back and forth between the two of you frantically; as if you had the cure and answer.
“Oh no!” You gasped back at him, bringing a hand to your chest, dramatically, making Henry snort behind you. “It sounds terrible!” You whimpered, trying to hold back a giggle.
“It is!” He agreed, not breaking character, while pulling open the fridge door. “There's only one way to make it through, without succumbing to the pathogen. It's by taking this antidote.” He waved a hand over the display, before taking two out and handing you a red tube and Henry, the blue.
The label on your tube told you the antidote was made from white rum and cherry liqueur, while Henry's was made of Curaçao and SVEDKA, blue raspberry flavored vodka. Uncapping and tossing the red antidote back, the chilled liquid burned down your throat into your stomach, and finally out through your veins. Mixing with the wine you had in Henry's room. Drinking down his own antidote and tossing the empty tube in the provided bin, the doctor finally let you pass. Entering the foggy maze, constructed out of the manicured hedges, stone planters with beautiful and exotic flowers. There were LED lights tucked into the dense and dark-green leaves, flickering in an off-rhythm, giving the already dark and close passages a disorienting feel.
“This is so cool!” You giggled, bouncing on your toes and turning back to look at Henry, who walked close behind you.
“Yeah, it is.” He agreed, glancing behind him, hearing a screech that was all too human, from somewhere else in the maze. “He really went all out for Halloween.” He looked back to you and smiled, finding the two of you had come to a three way.
“Which way should we go?” You asked, looking around, before looking at Henry.
“Hmm.” He hummed, glancing about, then smirked at you. “This way.” He said, jerking his head to the left, taking your hand and led you down the footpath.
“Do you know where you're going?” You asked, frowning at his back.
“I might.” Henry answered, casting a teasing glance over his shoulder.
“Shady Devil.” You teased, smirking at him.
After a couple twists and turns, the two of you came to a dead end that was adorned with a massive marble statue of a half-naked archer, shooting her arrow into the skies and a bench at her feet. There was a square lantern hanging from the tip of the Archer's arrow and two on the bench, casting an eerie, flickering, orange glow in the dark mist that surrounded you. But you were apprehensive about the skeleton sitting on the bench with them.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. But fool me three times, screw that! You thought, eyeing it. But the flickering light and swirl of fog played tricks on you, making it difficult to tell if the skeleton was twitching or not.
“I don't trust it.” You said aloud, and Henry's chuckle filled the enchanted space.
“I wouldn't blame you, love.” He admitted, cautious himself about the authenticity of the skeleton, however taking a gallant step forward to find out. “I think the poor chap died of whatever pathogen is in the maze though.” He quipped, making himself laugh and you rolled your eyes, amused. Reaching the skeleton without it jumping out at him, Henry put his hand on top of its cranium and gave it a gentle shake, causing the rest of the body to rattle on the bench, revealing it to be a prop.
“We're safe from another scare.” Henry declared, picking it up and setting it aside, making room for the two of you to sit down together. “I am really glad you came.” He said, as you sat down beside him. “I know I already said it, but I am.”
“I'm really happy that I came as well.” You smiled at him, feeling the heat already in your cheeks from your alcohol consumption increase, but the cool night helped keep it under control.
Henry grinned, giddy to hear it. “Kal really missed you, after you finished filming your scenes in Norway.” He confessed, chuckling as he fussed with the skull fob on the end of a pocket watch chain he had attached to the front of his vest.
“Oh, Kal missed me, did he?” You purred, amused.
“Yeah, Kal.” He nodded, glancing up at you, his blue eyes dark and holding a gaze that sent a shiver down your back. “Are you cold?” He asked, a playful and coy smirk curling up one corner of his mouth as he moved a little closer to you, offering the warmth of his body.
“I'm either cold or the pathogen is setting in.” You sighed softly, biting your lower lip and tucking yourself into his side, a quiet moan escaping your throat as the weight of Henry's strong arm slotted around your shoulders.
It was all of sudden that you were aware of how close Henry's mouth was to yours, his eyes still trained on your face, waiting—watching—for your reaction. Were you going to push him away or were you going to let him go all the way?
Screw it!
You leaned forward and locked lips with him, feeling Henry smile for a moment before meeting your kiss. His palm moved to cup your nape, fingers curling into your hair and nails grazing your scalp, ever so lightly, drawing another shiver out of you. Henry's other hand moved around to your hip and tugged you closer to him, all but pulling you into his lap. The kiss is slow and easy at first, feeling each other out, testing the waters to see if it was right. Then, as if your minds connected like Bluetooth, the embrace became hungry. Fingers slipped into the armholes of his vest and your back straightened as you made little tugs on the soft fabric, needing to feel him closer against you.
“Henry.” You whimpered into his mouth, lashes fluttering open, hearing his breathing deepen, watching and feeling his chest heave.
His lips brushed yours, the warm puffs of his pants caressing your face as his eyes bored into yours, arms dropping around your waist and squeezing you against his rigid body. He felt the same longing that showed in your eyes, and wanted nothing more than to fulfill it. His palms moved up your back and made for the straps of your overalls, shoving one off your shoulders and unclasping the other. Leaning away for the zipper in the middle, unzip it, making it fall off your shoulders completely, to gather around your waist, giving Henry a nice peek at the black lace, bikini panties you were wearing.
“Mmm.” He hummed, smirking at you with half lidded eyes. “Not shorts?” He rasped, tracing the tip of his finger along the wavy edge, before giving the waistband a playful pop.
You felt a slight heat of embarrassment in the pit of your stomach, but your expression was bashful. “Didn't expect any fallen Angels to sneak a peek down my overalls.” You quipped, playfully pushing a button at the top of his vest open.
“It was far too tempting.” Henry murmured, leaning in to kiss you once more, while his hand caressed your bare side, your skin dancing at the feather light contact, before it grazed the waistband of your panties.
Pausing, he meets your eyes once more, seeking permission. You answered it with a nip at his bottom lip and went in for another heated and heady kiss. With an amused rumble, Henry pushed his hand beyond the barrier, drawing out the magical sound against his mouth, when his fingertips dusted over your throbbing clit. He teased you, only giving you the lightest of touch, as if a ghost was tormenting you from the great beyond. Hands moving to the last three buttons of Henry's vest, you opened his dress shirt and pushed your hands inside of it, finding the burning and hard packed muscles he worked so hard on, every day, dusted with dark hair. You lightly dragged your blue, red and white painted nails down his chest; Henry growled and let out a sharp hiss, giving you a narrow-eyed look.
“Oh!” A voice rang out, before Henry could repay your action. “I am so sorry!”
Almost all of your arousal vanished, you quickly fixed your clothing and tried to act as casual as possible but struggled to meet the other party-goer's eyes. Henry on the other hand, had little qualms, having embodied his costume's entity.
“That's quite all right.” He chuckled, not bothering to button his open shirt, showing off his bare chest and nail marks. “Wrong turns happen.” He smirked, his face morphing into this delighted, sinister expression.
“Yeah, this place is a serious maze.” The man, dressed as a Roman soldier, answered, his startled eyes still moving back and forth between you.
“It is.” Henry nodded, his tone hinting for him to go on his way. “There's many more dead ends like this one, I'm sure you'll find.”
Blinking, then finally getting it, the Roman soldier turned and vanished into the fog and dark of the maze, leaving you and Henry once again alone.
“Well, that was interesting.” He laughed, looking back to you, finally buttoning his shirt.
“Yeah, you can say that.” You answered with a half-hearted laugh.
Biting his lip, feeling the mood had been destroyed and sighed softly. “You want to finish the maze?” He asked, offering you a smile, brows lifted in question. “Or we could go back inside?” He added, brow creasing a little.
You balanced the options, seeing the rest of the maze and what was at the end intrigued you, but finishing what you and Henry started was still a rage inferno between your thighs. “I think it's a bit too nippy out here for what I have on.” You answered, licking your lip and eyeing Henry.
“You know,” He replied, glancing thoughtfully. “I believe you're right.” He said, giving a soft shiver himself, his massive shoulders quaking. “Let's go back inside.” He cooed, fixing his vest and standing to offer you his arm.
Taking it, you retraced your steps back to the start of the maze, nodding to the Mad Doctor, who was restocking the antidotes, quickly moved by the grave with the awaiting zombie at the side of the house, and were met yet again by Davison at the door, as he opened them to greet you.
“I hope you found the attractions and festivities to your liking?” He inquired, shutting the doors behind you.
“We did.” Henry nodded, smiling at you. “He went all out for his Halloween party. It's quite amazing.”
“Yeah, it's gotten my heart beat up several times.” You chuckled, smiling back. “Not a party I'll forget.”
“I'm pleased to hear it, and so will he.” Davison smiled, pleased.
“We're going to retire upstairs for a bit.” Henry informed him with a wink, leading you towards the staircase. “Have a good evening, Davis.”
“And you.” He called back.
“No.” He chuckled, smiling down at his bare feet. “It is rare. But this isn't really an occasion to bring him along. So, I left him with a good friend.”
“Mmm.” You hummed, leaning back against the bed's footboard to unlace your shoes. “I suppose not.” You agreed, flexing your toes and glancing up at him. “You want to help me?” You asked, gesturing to your overalls. “You seemed quite the expert out in the maze.” You quipped, impishly.
Pursing his lips and giving you a hungry look, Henry strode forward, closing the gap between you easily with his long legs, and took the zipper between his fingers again, but now, he took his time. You watched him work the clasp gently down the molten-gold fabric, revealing more and more of you as it reached its end, between your legs. Henry smirked at your panties, discovering they were not only sheer, but sported a nice, growing wet patch.
“Do you like it when I touch you?” He asked in a breath voice, nimble fingers moving to your straps, caressing the skin beneath it, before flicking it open, the overalls slipping to one side.
“You don't see me stopping you, do you?” You quipped back, as the last strap fell from your shoulder and your outfit started to slip down your body.
He shook his head, hands moving up to the buttons of his shirt, but your hand came up to brush them aside, intent on doing that yourself. Pushing each black button through their hole with painstaking care, knowing Henry was impatient about picking up where you left off outside. You moaned softly, tugging the tucked in fabric from the waistband of his pants and pushing his shirt off his shoulders and arms. You were slow to pull his belt free of their loops, admiring the growing bulge at the front of his slacks. With his belt free, you curled your fingers around the waistband of his pants and boxer briefs, only to be stopped by Henry's hands grasping your wrists.
“What?” You frowned, looking up at him.
“Top.” He answered, motioning to it with his head. “Off.”
“I think I'm a little more naked than you are.” You stated, raising a brow at him.
“I'll be naked the moment you pull my pants and underwear down.” He countered with a smirk.
You took a deep breath, then nodded. “Fair.” You chuckled, pulling your hands away to remove your pink sports bra. “Better, you devil?” You teased, tossing the article of clothing over his head.
“Much, my little joker.” He rasped, cupping one of your breasts in his hand and rubbing its hardened nub with the pad of his thumb. “You can finish your task now.” He said, leaning in to kiss you.
“Mm, thanks.” You mumbled against his mouth, hands blindly finding their way back to his waist, tugging at it, and trying not to be distracted by his lips and hands working their magic on you. “Bat above, you're evil.” You whimpered to the pinch he gave your breast, sending a tingle to your still clothed clit.
Henry turned his head, lips brushing the helix of your ear. “I'm not Lucifer for nothing, my dear.” He whispered, allowing his accent to dip and deepen.
Your knees weakened and you let out a breathy whimper. “Good lord.” You gulped, grasping the back of his arms for support.
“I'd rather keep his name to a minimum.” Henry quipped, with a playful attempt at a wink.
“Classic.” You giggled, tilting your head back to brush your lips against his stubbly jaw. “Apologies, Prince of Darkness.” You teased, hand trailing down his torso to his semi-hard cock, closing your fingers around the heated flesh.
Henry hissed in your ear, hooked an arm around your waist and snagged you against him, lifting you off your feet and moving around to the side of the bed, setting you down on it. He paused for a moment, to turn out the lights, then joined you again, where you had fixed yourself correctly on the comfortable mattress and about to slip your undies off.
“No.” He rumbled, slipping between your legs and gently pushing your hands away. “Those are mine.” He informed you, taking a hold of the delicate fabric and started to slip them off. “Oh, you smell so tasty.” He cooed, catching a whiff of your glistening folds, tossing your panties aside and leaning closer with a lick of his lips.
Gulping, you melted back against the pillows as Henry's mouth closed around your slick, vibrating your sensitive need with a rumble of carnal lust. You pawed at the duvet beneath you, rolling your hips against his working mouth, tongue parting your folds to collect the dripping nectar flowing from your cavern. You whimpered and squeezed your thighs against his head, feeling his horns brush your heated and trembling skin, building the numb and tingling sensation at the pit of your stomach.
“Oh, Henry!” You whimpered, a hand moving into the curls at the back of his head. “Oh, plea-fuck!” You cried out, back arching as Henry pressed two heavy fingers onto your swollen pearl, rubbing at it in a rhythm to his mouth and drawing you over the edge swiftly.
Blinded by your orgasm, you didn't notice the figure entering the room with you and Henry for a moment. But caught the moving shape at the foot of the bed, slowly coming down and through your blurred vision, it paused, before shifting to the chair in the corner.
“Henry.” You panted, the heightening tone of alarm in your voice.
“Ssshh.” He hushed you, slowly kissing his way up your seething body until his face was nuzzled between the valley of your bosom, tasting the thin layer of exertion on your burning skin. “It's all right, love.” He heaved, his breath raising goose flesh in its wake.
“But-” You started to protest, shaking your head and trying to focus on the figure seated in the corner, feeling their eyes on you. “There's some-” You tried to warn him breathily, as his mouth encompassed one of your breasts. “Someone's in-”
“I know.” He moaned around your taut areola, before tilting his head for a second to glance at your strange guest. “It's just Gus.” He purred, a naughty smile on his lips and returned back to his worship of your body.
“August?” You whimpered, brows furrowing at his name and Henry's intent suckling. “Henry.” You sighed, eyes fluttering shut and hands pressing to Henry's broad back, letting go and getting washed away with the moment.
Smiling from his vantage point in the corner, the chair angled just right, August watched you and Henry in bed. He knew the two of you, having worked on a couple projects with Henry over the years and met you during the filming of Fall Out. When Henry told him he intended to ask you to the party, his interest and intrigue was set into motion, intent on having some of you for himself, informing Henry of this, and having Davison keep a close eye on you and Henry. So, upon hearing the two of you had been found canoodling in the maze, then scampering back upstairs to Henry's room, Davison rushed to find his boss and informed him that love was in the air between the two of you.
August left where he was entertaining in his study and moved upstairs to Henry's room, using a master key he had for every room on his estate and slipped into the darkened room, like a stealthy panther stalking its prey. Removing and turning off his light up Purge mask, he found you sprawled out on the bed, whimpering Henry's name, while his skillful mouth ate you out, like it was one of the Brit's decadent cheat meals. Hovering in the doorway between the sitting room and the bedroom, waiting—watching...you slip off the cliff of your orgasm, crying out and writhing as you fell; then moved to the bottom of the bed, to reach out and touch Henry's foot.
Alerting him that he had shown up.
He repressed a chuckle, while you tried alerting Henry to his presence, and moved towards the chair, making himself comfortable. But Henry reassured you that it was perfectly all right. It was just your good friend, August, in the room with you, and you had no reason to fret. He opened the front of his rough and semi-black jeans, lifting his hips off the chair just enough to push his pants and briefs down, allowing his rigid cock to spring free of the tight confines and rest heavily against the white dress shirt he had on. He closed his fist around the slick head of his shaft, a deep rumbling moan boiled in his throat as he slowly started to stroke himself, eyes locked on you and Henry intertwining together in bed.
Your quivering legs locked loosely around his thick thighs, while Henry's mouth was like a suction cup against the column of your throat, working in tandem to his steely manhood rubbing against your heated folds, coating the taut and veiny flesh with your sweet essence. Your quiet whimpers and mewls spurred on both men, putting cracks in August's usual calm and controlled demeanor, and pushed Henry to impatience, struggling with his will to warm you up, before diving deep into you, headfirst.
“Take her.” August rasped, abandoning his cock for a second to open his shirt and toss it aside, not wanting to soil it any more than the few wet spots of pre-come, and returned to pleasuring himself.
Henry snapped a look over his shoulder, face flushed and sweaty. “She's mine, Gus.” He hissed at the other man, eyes a dark cobalt with lust and feeling territorial.
“I belong to no one!” You wheezed, dizzy and drunk from Henry's attention.
A smirk pulled across both men's lips, and Henry looked down at you, brushing damp and colorful strands of hair off your sweaty forehead and placing a gentle kiss to the bridge of your nose.
“Of course, my love.” He cooed at you, stroking the side of your face with the back of his fingers. “We know you don't.” He said, kissing the corner of your mouth. “My apologies.” He whispered against your lips.
You sighed against his mouth and shook your head again, lifting your heavy arms to tangle your fingers into his hair. “I want you.” You murmured, nudging your nose against his, legs squeezing his to pull him in closer. “Please, Henry.” You gulped, eyes fluttering open to gaze up at him.
“As you wish.” He replied quietly, pulling back slightly and slipping a hand between your bodies, grasping and stroking himself for a moment, before lining his weeping, heart-shaped tip with your glistening honeypot. “Oh god, you're so snug, Bug.” He purred, easing himself in, bit by bit, as he leaned back over you, bracing himself on his elbows, loving how you wrapped around him.
“Shit.” August grunted, fixated on Henry entering you, your folds sealing around his girth like a tailor-made glove, while trying to picture his own manhood in its place, squeezing his shaft in an attempt to replicate it.
Henry's thrusts were short and measured, rocking into you with an easy pace, almost matching the beat of the music that was bleeding through the floor downstairs. It was both what you wanted and also drove you nuts, wanting him to drive you through the bed, to turn your insides to pudding. You rocked your hips in-tune to his, one hand clawing down his sweat drenched back to dig into the meat of his bum and thrust your other hand between your bodies to find your neglected clit.
“Don't you dare come.” Henry growled at you, pressing his body down on yours, trapping you against the mattress and immobilizing your hand from pleasuring yourself. “Not without me.” He panted, holding your gaze.
You were caught off guard for a moment, before arching an amused brow at him. “Fine.” You smirked, giving him a nice pat on the butt.
“Good girl.” He purred, capturing your lips and shifting his weight again, enabling you to stroke your pulsing clit, toes curling and walls quaking around Henry's cock, milking it. “How are you doing over there, Gus?” He chuckled, shooting the American a glance over his shoulder.
“Could be better.” August grunted back, slumped a little in his seat, working his cock as he continued to watch, the sound of Henry's cock moving inside of you filled the room with your soft whimpers and moans, it was like a perfect orchestra to his ears, making his balls tight, but he still wanted you for himself.
Henry brought his lips to your ear. “He's jealous.” He whispered in a roguish tone.
“Mmm.” You moaned back, half listening to what either of them were saying, drunk on the feeling of Henry inside of you and the pressure you were applying to your tender pearl, drenching you both even more to create a wet spot on the bed sheet beneath.
“She's getting fucked out.” August smirked, hearing your numb moans. “And you haven't even let her come again.” He chuckled, using his free hand to massage his heavy sack, growling deep in his chest and pressing his head against the back of the chair.
Henry felt his own loins tingle and spasm, begging to be unloaded inside your tight, hot core, which only drew him in with each thrust, attempting to hold him inside for your own salvation. Henry groaned, thrusting forward and almost losing himself to the pressure.
“I can't hold back anymore, Hen.” You mewled up at him, breathless and spent. “Please.”
“Me neither, love.” He sighed back, nuzzling the side of your sweaty neck for a moment, before slowly slipping free. “You wanna come with me, babe?” He panted, pulling up on his knees, but kept one elbow braced beside your head.
Moving a hand between your heaving bodies, Henry gently shoved aside your sluggishly moving hand from your mound, bringing it to his mouth and gently sucked on your honey saturated fingers, savoring the heady taste. With your hand clean, Henry took a hold of himself, stroking his length and rubbing his tip against your overstimulated folds at the same time, drawing out soft whimpers and moans. Your hands kneaded his sides, while you twitched and quivered beneath him, eyes fluttering in the back of your lids with streaks to tears going down your temples.
“Oh...Henry!” You hiccupped in short gasps, licking your parched lips. “I'm-m s-so c-close!” You gulped, nudging your face against his, blindly seeking his lips.
“I am too, love.” He wheezed back, increasing the friction. “Come with me.” He whispered, meeting your lips in a breathless kiss.
It was easy, with how close the pair of you were, so you just let go. Gushing over Henry's cock and drenching the sheets even more, while Henry jerked rope after rope of his hot seed over your glistening folds and heaving stomach, making your skin sticky with each expulsion of his loins. August watched with concupiscent awe, biting into his bottom lip and digging a shoe heel into the expensive rug at his feet, as his own orgasm peaked, flowing over his jerking fist and staining the black fabric of his jeans.
You, Henry and August let out a collective sigh as your climax waned. Henry's weary arms snaked around your body, while his body slowly tilted sideways, collapsing onto the mattress with an exhausted grunt and holding you to his chest. Sighing against his collarbone, your eyes fluttering shut, spent and sedated.
A touch to your back told you, you'd fallen asleep, stirring you back to the world of the living and from the warm bubble of Henry's body. Expecting to see Henry staring at you, you opened your eyes to his sleeping face and the deep puffs of his snores.
“Right here, gorgeous.” A deep timber whispered into your ear.
Turning your head, your eyes met August's, he was leaning over you, a smile plastered on his handsome face, and his hand still stroking the length of your back. “Gus?” You mumbled, sleepily blinking up at him.
August tapped a finger to his lips and cast his eyes to Henry. “Ssshh, don't wake him, sweetheart.” He cooed at you, sweetly. “He needs his rest.” He told you, before helping you carefully untangle from Henry's embrace and sit up on the edge of the bed.
“What are you doing, August?” You asked, looking up at him, even though you had your suspicions.
“Helping you clean up.” He answered, dipping his hand to your stomach, reminding you of Henry's dried release, that was still there. “I started a nice, warm shower for you.” He explained, taking your hands in his and pulled you to your feet, stretching your sore muscles.
“Sure, Gus.” You giggled, letting him guide you around the bed and into the bathroom, the sound of falling water filling your ears and blanket of warm steam wrapping around you as it filled the space. “You're only helping, so you can have your chance.” You smirked, not so out of it during your lovemaking with Henry to forget August's jealousy he was missing out.
August laughed, unconcerned of sound now that the door was closed. “So perceptive of you, Sugar.” He smirked, opening the door of the shower stall for you. “Unless you'd rather I leave you and Henry be.” He added, as you entered the shower, cocking a brow at you.
“Hmm.” You hummed, stepping under the pleasant spray of the showerhead, letting the water wash over you, before glancing at August over your shoulder. “Well, it would be a lie, if I said I hadn't thought about what it would be like to be with both of you.” You smirked, eyes dancing with mischief. “And Hen and I already had our fun.”
“You impish, little jester.” August growled, discarding the remains of his clothing and joined you, hugging an arm around your waist and pressing his chest against your back, his mouth finding your neck, the hairs of his immaculate mustache tickling your wet skin.
“Christ, August.” You moaned, his rock-hard manhood pressing against your butt. “I-” Your breath caught in your throat, August's hand closing around your mound, fingers oh-so-delicately caressing your pearl, waking it from its soreness.
“You what, Sugar?” He purred into your ear, nipping at its rim almost painfully. “Tell me.” He insisted, free hand coming up to cup your jaw and pull your back to rest against his shoulder.
“I want you.” You whimpered, chewing on your bottom lip and pushing up on your toes. “Take me, Gus.” You begged him, grinding against his manhood.
Smirking, August took a step forward, until you were trapped between him and the warm, smokey-gray subway tile of the shower wall. He spread your feet and gripped your hip with one hand, grasping his shaft in the other and teased your silky folds, only slipping just his tip between them to rim your passage, loving the feel of your quiver.
“So desperate for me to fill you up.” He chuckled, kneading your hip.
“August, please.” You huffed, still overstimulated from being with Henry and unable to take August's teasing. “Please, I need you inside of me.” You moaned, legs wobbling as he pushed the first half of his manhood into your ruined cavern, your knees almost giving out, had it not been for him and the wall holding you up.
“Stuff me.” You told him, mindlessly.
“I intend too, Sugar.” August smirked, gripping both of your hips and used them as leverage to ease the rest of himself inside of you, still taking his time, despite your continued begs and mewls. “You take me so well, sweetheart.” He panted, once he was settled, engulfed inside your pocket. “Henry did so well, opening you for me.” He chuckled, pressing a palm to the tile above your head and drew almost completely out, then drove back in, hammering into your sweet and sore spot, drawing out a cry from your lips that echoed in the stall.
“August!” You arched your back into his thrusts, cheek pressed against the wall and eyes squeezed shut. “Oh god.” You wheezed, breath fogging the glossy tile. “You feel so good, Gus.” You told him, your voice hardly above the sound of the shower head. “So good.” You mumbled to yourself, nursing your walls around his cock, feeling every ridge and vein as you did and every driving force of him moving inside of you.
“Oh, you're not going to last for me, are you, Sugar?” He cooed, stroking the back of your wet hair and squeezing the nape of your neck. “Just too fucked out.” He hummed, sensing and watching your body tremble as you did your best to fight off your orgasm. “That's all right, princess.” He said, kissing the top of your head and increasing the pace of his thrusts. “Let go.” He instructed you, locking an arm around your waist. “Come all over my cock, gorgeous.” He egged you on, until he felt your body quake and tense, a hot rush around his frenzied shaft.
“There you go, very good.” He praised you, lining kisses over your shoulder and neck, nuzzling his face there as he buried himself deep inside and let loose, pumping his load into your core and painting your walls, unlike Henry.
The two of you stood there for a long time, supporting each other against the shower wall with the water still raining down over you. Until August's skilled ears twitched to a squeak above the patter of water on the hexagon tiles and turned his head. A smirk pulled across his lips as he spied Henry through the clear glass of the shower doors, coming into the bathroom.
“Did we wake you, Hank?” He quipped, as the Brit stepped into the stall with you, a gush of chilly air invading the warm space, making you shiver against August's chest.
“Yes and no.” He replied, dipping his head under the shower head, soaking his curls. “I woke up, when I realized our little Harley Quinn wasn't in bed with me any longer and heard some of your shower fun.” He informed him, shaking his head, to flick the curls out of his face, and moved to stand beside August, looking down at you. “Looks like you're having a nice, little shower, love.” He smirked, seeing the expression of sedated and satisfied exhaustion on your face.
“Mmm.” You hummed back, blinking up at him.
Both men chuckled at you, shaking their heads.
“You look after her, I have to piss.” August told Henry, slipping free of you and eased away, wanting to make sure you didn't fall without his support, before stepping out of the shower to use the toilet.
“Are you all right?” Henry asked, helping you sit down on a built-in, shower bench.
“I'm fine.” You answered, resting back against the wall. “Just didn't expect all of--” You motioned around sluggishly. “This—when I got your mystery invite to the party.”
Henry smirked, grabbing a bath sponge and a bar of vanilla, sandalwood and cardamom soap, from a recess in the shower wall. “That's a fair point.” He nodded, soaping up the sponge and grabbing one of your arms. “In all honesty, I didn't intend this to happen either.” He admitted to you, gently lathering up your skin.
“Well, I did want to be with you. I just didn't expect August to actually join us.”
“The devil made me do it!” August chimed in, coming back into the shower and started to wash. “But I told you, I intended to, if you wooed her.”
“Wooed me!” You huffed, rolling your eyes. “So, the two of you talked about this?”
“Henry needed some prodding in getting the courage to send you the invite.” August informed you, smirking at Henry, who blushed and looked at neither of you. “But we're both quite happy you said yes.”
“That's true.” Henry nodded, moving the sponge across your shoulders, massaging them as he did. “I hope we didn't push you or anything.” He said, biting his lip as he looked you over.
You let out an amused laugh, tipping your head back to look up at the two men, who regarded you. “It's a bit late to be asking that, isn't it?” You inquired, shaking your head, before relaxing and growing serious. “But no, you guys didn't do anything I didn't want or consent to. Even though I was surprised by August sneaking into the room, like some sort of spy.”
Henry and August looked at each other, an expression of acknowledgment between them for a quick moment, before it passed, and they looked away.
“Suppose we should get back to the party.” You said, as Henry finished helping you wash.
“No.” August shook his head and rinsed the shampoo out of his hair. “The party ended a short while ago. The guests that are staying over, are in their rooms and those that weren't, have long been ushered off the property.” He informed you, causally.
“Just us, darling.” Henry winked, moving into August's spot to shower himself, carefully removing his devil horns. “Do you want to stay here with us, or would you rather I call Marco to take you back home?” He asked, cocking a closed eyed brow at you.
You weighed the options, watching Henry wash, water cascading around and along every groove and line of his muscular body, activating a tingle deep in your exhausted and sore body. “No need to bother him so late.” You finally answered, eyes shifting to August, who was grabbing towels.
Showered and dried off, You, Henry and August filed back into the bedroom. August called Davison up with a phone in the sitting room, having him bring up a few bottles of water for you all, which you were thankful for, since you were parched. Quenched, you climbed into bed, burrowing down under the sheets in the middle, while Henry and August got in on either side of you. Henry looped an arm around your waist, snuggling you against his chest and August lounged close to you, on his back, allowing you to reach out and lay your hand on his chest.
“Good night, my love.” Henry whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.
“Sleep well, Sugar.” August cooed, patting your hand gently, and kissed your knuckles.
“Good night.” You hummed, letting your fatigue take a hold of you. “Happy...Hallo-ween.” You mumbled, dropping off, happily cocooned between them.
Summary: A supernatural AU from this prompt: “Berserker Captain Syverson, and ‘I want to hear you beg for it’.” from @mrsaugustwalker’s Great Writing Challenge.
A/N: Okay so this prompt was originally meant to be just a quick, smutty “Hell yeah, Viking warrior Sy!” thing but noooo, I went completely off the rails with this so I’m just going to apologize in advance. I started writing this intending an inclusive second person perspective, but I did end up including some things that will not resonate with all. This is nothing like what I usually write, PLEASE heed the warnings. So, without further ado…let’s get weird.
Prompt: Slow & Romantic, Cock Warming from @florxdexcerezo (x) Thank you so much for sending the prompt in. Sorry its taken so long.
Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader
Word Count: Approx. 600
Warnings: Smut, cock warming, p in v sex
Authors Note: I wrote this a few weeks ago, but wasn't feeling up to posting it. I'm still on semi-hiatus, going to be a couple of months more at least, but here is a thingy I did. Hope you like it. Thanks to @nashibirne for reading.
Edited by me, there will be errors
Dividers by me.
Masterlist
Celebration Masterlist
Your eyes fly open. A heady rush of adrenaline pumps through your veins as your hand slips under the pillow on the empty side of the bed and curls around cold steel. You keep your breath slow and even as if you're still asleep and listen carefully.
But you’re too late.
A firm hand covers yours and a heavy, hard body traps you beneath it.
“Don’t scream,” he says, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
You loosen your grip on the pistol and allow the hand to take it away. In the dark, you hear the thunk of the gun being placed on the nightstand.
“You could knock,” you point out.
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
“And yet, here we are.”
The weight on top of you shifts and you think you can just make out a small smile on his moustached face. You reach for the lamp, but he stops you.
“Leave it off,” he says.
“August, please,” you whisper. Your hands cover his whiskered cheeks briefly before he shakes you off.
“Leave it.”
He stands. You vaguely see his outline as he removes his clothes. He’s moving stiffly, slowly and breathing in soft grunts and rough exhales.
“How badly are you hurt?” you ask.
“Nothing so bad that a good night's sleep won’t heal,” he says, dismissively. Sometimes it scares you how easily and smoothly he lies to you.
“Then why are you here?” you ask with a rueful laugh. “The last thing you ever do here is sleep.”
You see his shape pause. You stare at where you assume his eyes would be, he needs to know you aren’t stupid; that you know this thing between you won’t result in a ring on your finger or a pretty white dress.
The longer he stands there unmoving, the harder it is to keep looking into the darkness. What is he thinking? You open your mouth to ask, but close it with a small shake of your head. It's not like he’d be honest anyway.
He starts to undress again. You lay back in bed. Does it really matter if he’s here to fuck you or sleep next to you? You’ll give him what he wants, you always do. You can’t help yourself.
He slips into bed, curling himself around your naked form. His hands begin a long exploration along your hip to your ribs and back again while his face is buried into your neck. You can hear him draw rough, ragged breaths, his mouth is so close to your ear, his lips graze along its edge.
Driven by a primal instinct, you arch your back, lean against him and open your legs in an invitation that needs no explanation. He doesn’t hesitate and quickly you feel the smooth, warm head of his cock sliding over your folds, gathering your wetness before sinking deep inside.
By the same instinct, you begin to roll your hips, relishing the feel of his length as your pussy glides over him. But his hand clasps your hip and holds you still, your ass and back pressed firmly against his chest.
“When I’m gone, I dream of this,” August whispers, “of being inside you.”
“Then please move.”
“No,” he growls, “I need to be inside you. All night.”
You moan and he throbs deep within you. His nose presses into your hair, his arms wrap around your chest, holding you tighter and tighter until you think he’ll crush you.
“You’re so warm,” he whispers as he softens his hold on you. “I need you to keep me warm. I’m so fucking cold without you.”
Summary: There's a new hotel in town. It can't possibly be what it's advertised as, can it?
Word Count: 6.5K
Warnings: 18+, NO MINORS, cunnilingus, p in v (missionary and doggy style), monster fucking (right?).
A/N: I was considering waiting until Oct, but it's a fucking Super Moon tonight so let's gooooo.....!!!!!
When The Fantasy Hotel opened up in town, you scoffed at first. "What’s with this name? What kind of depravity is this? Why can't folks just fuck in their own homes?" you thought to yourself. “At least they have someone to fuck. Why must they flaunt their relationships in my face this way?”
But then you heard the whispers. The suggestions. The innuendos. A few of your online friends, who know you'd been through a dry spell for some time now, had been asking if you'd given any thought to trying it out and you were...confused. They wouldn't say outright what they'd heard about the place, but curiosity got the better of you.
You opened the incognito browser and typed the hotel name and were...shocked. Shocked at the images and the rave reviews. This hotel wasn't strictly for couples. As a matter of fact, it was designed for singles. And you shut your laptop quickly, convinced this wasn't for you and worried what your anonymous, online friends must think of you. You broached the subject delicately, so as not to offend in case maybe they didn't really know what they were asking about.
MNstrluvr: Come on. You've read the fics. You've liked and commented. Are you really saying you weren't into it? The idea of it?
sendmeanangel: I was sucked in by the phenomenal writing. You know me. I read anything if it's told well, descriptive, immersive, get you out of your head.
darkgothnightengale: This is THAT. But IRL. You're fucking lucky they picked your town to open the first one. You HAVE to try it and tell us how it is!!!
sendmeanangel: Have you seen the prices?
darkgothnightengale: We chipped in.
sendmeanangel:...
MNstrluvr: Come on! We're dying to know first hand from someone we actually know. Please. For science!
It took a few more gentle prods and pokes, with promises of no jokes unless you gave specific permission. And under NO CIRCUMSTANCES were your friends allowed to post anything that even vaguely alluded to the fact that you were trying the place out. Private DMs and Super Private Chat Room discussions only.
Your visit was booked. You opted for a brief stay only. Two hours. You couldn't bring yourself to book a longer stay and the theme you selected was one that allowed for less than full evenings. It was also the only slot available on the day you were able to ask off work.
You showered and primped, pampering yourself with your favorite body wash and lotion, knowing how good it made you feel to be fresh and clean and smelling delicious. You checked your clothes and your makeup in the full length mirror by your apartment door, opting not to change for the fiftieth time since stepping out of the shower. A few final items stuffed into your travel satchel and the large floppy hat on your head you'd bought specifically to hide your face as you made your way into the hotel and you were off for your adventure, trepidation buzzing around your insides and threatening to derail your purpose.
Your friends had paid and you figured you were already past a normal hotel refund window, so paying them back would mean picking up a few extra shifts on top of your already hectic university schedule. Besides, you didn't want to disappoint them. They were so curious to know if the stories that were starting to pop-up on Tumblr did any justice to the experience. You really couldn’t imagine this was anything more than some extremely well put together costumes and perhaps use of silicon implements, which had you really wondering about sanitation, but whatever.
The cab pulled up at the hotel entrance and a petite woman with a pixie cut stepped forward to open the door and help you out. She gave a warm smile with no hint of derision or teasing about the hat as she welcomed you sincerely and led you through the front doors, depositing you at the registration desk.
"Enjoy your stay!" she beamed at you, with a conspiratorial wink before heading back out to, you assumed, await the next guest.
You called out a thanks after her, then turned to the front desk attendant, who welcomed you by name.
"You have the only check in slot at this time," he answered your unspoken question with a kind smile. "We stagger arrival on purpose to ensure privacy for our guests. Especially first time visits. We have you booked in the Deep Forest Suite for the next two hours, and it looks like you requested the basket add on. That will be waiting for you in the room. Since it is your first time, we just need you to sign a few waivers and I'll run through the hotel safety rules for you. A copy has also been sent to your email, if you want to check them during your stay. But also, rest assured, your host is well versed and knows exactly how to keep you safe. You are in good hands here, I promise."
Every word spoken carefully and with respect, every inflection designed to put your worries at ease. If you had butterflies going in, you'd never know it now. You had taken notice of the lush and inviting lobby, dark wood furniture covered in rich velvet, chandeliers and wall sconces casting a warm glow around you. There was nothing menacing or untoward, nothing like you had expected, even after seeing the interior photos online. You'd experienced marketing ploys before. This wasn't glue disguised as milk or fries on toothpicks to stand up straight in the box or a long angle shot of the tiniest pool ever. Everything so far was exactly as depicted and you were impressed.
Then you remembered the photo of your host and had to swallow hard. You had assumed it was a doctored image, maybe some unique lighting to draw attention. But if the decor was real, then maybe he was too. The rules were oddly specific for an experience with a guy in a costume.
Maybe everything you had assumed about the nature of this hotel was wrong.
"Everything okay?" the clerk asked with a furrowed brow. "Is there something worrisome about the rules?"
"Oh. No. No everything is fine. I'm just..." you trailed off. Nervous wasn't the right word. Nor were you embarrassed, as you thought you would be. The door attendant, the desk clerk...neither had made you feel anything but welcome and safe and not self-conscious at all.
"It's perfectly reasonable to feel a little apprehension your first time. If it makes you feel better, you should know: you actually can opt out at any time. We do have to retain a portion of the room fee, but a partial refund is available. Should you change your mind."
"That's nice to know, thank you. I think I'll be okay."
"Then let's get you to your room,” he clapped his hands together with a mirth. “427. Elevator is down the hall and there are directional signs, but I'm happy to escort you if you'd like."
"I think I'll manage, but thank you."
As he placed the key in your possession and sent you on your way, the reality sunk in a little deeper. Weighed down by the heavy iron key in your hand as you rode the elevator to the fourth floor and stepped down the hall to your room, you could no longer deny what was about to occur.
You were headed into the wolf's den.
The door unlocked with a satisfying click as you turned the iron key. You were transported to a lush forest setting when you stepped into the room. Or as close as you could get indoors, anyway. A carpet of deep, soft green lay on the floor beneath your feet, and you immediately slipped out of your shoes to feel the cool material on your skin. It was impossibly silky, smooth, and comforting.
Large potted fir and pine plants lined the walls and stood in corners. At least a few held miniature deciduous trees and some with limbs stretching across the ceiling. You finally let your eyes fall on the chunky, four-poster bed, the legs, head- and foot-boards crafted of smooth finished logs you might find in a high-end cabin or ski chalet and covered in a thick feather mattress wrapped in luxurious blankets and piled high with pillows.
A picnic basket sat prim and proper on the coffee table nestled between two plump, overstuffed chairs and you had just reached out to peek beneath the deep red cloth when the door closed softly behind you and a throat cleared.
"I hope I haven't startled you."
You turned and gasped as you took in the sight of one of the largest, and, for lack of a better description because your brain was starting to fail you, manliest men you'd ever set eyes on. His photograph might have been deceptive, but only because it didn't do him justice. He wore a thick, blue cable knit sweater and dark gray cargo pants that seemed to mold around his thighs. He was barefoot, which surprised you a little, but then who were you to judge at the moment?
You caught his smirk as you lifted your gaze to appreciate the rugged beard and full head of chocolate curls that framed his face, offsetting mesmerizing blue eyes.
"I'm Walter," he offered you his hand as he spoke your name with a gentle growl. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"You're not..." you stopped yourself, suddenly embarrassed at how eager you'd found yourself. "Forgive me. That may have been a rude way to start."
"It's okay," he chuckled. "This isn't the form you signed up for, but I've found it more enjoyable to at least meet in this state. If I bounded in here all claws and snarls, we wouldn't have a chance to speak first. And I prefer to have at least a quick chat, if that's okay with you."
"It's fine," you whispered, your throat dry though your mouth was watering.
Walter stepped past you and reached a large mitt into the basket to pull out a bottle of water.
"Would you like to talk with me a bit?" he asked, offering you the bottle. Your eyes lingered on the basket, though, curious what else might be in there. The amenity said “Fantasy Basket”, so it could have just been a riff on the hotel name, but still, you had assumed…
“Did you not get a chance to peek before I arrived?” he asked as you took a sip of water.
“No. Do you know what’s in there?”
“I do,” another chuckle, deeper and darker than before. “Do you want to know now, or later?”
“We don’t have a lot of time, do we?” you asked, suddenly aware and mentally kicking yourself for thinking you didn’t need more than a few hours to get the lay of the land. Literally, you snorted at your internal joke.
“Something funny?”
“Lay of the land,” you replied with a grin and as he laughed with you, you caught sight of his canines. They seemed a little longer than when you saw them in his first grin. At the moan that slipped from your throat, he darkened again.
“That it will be.”
You gasped and squeezed your thighs, clenching at the reverberation in his voice. Something had changed from even just the moment before when he’d entered the room. Aside from the physical appearance, you sensed a shift in the air, something wavering in the ether around you. A heat crept from your core to your cheeks, through your spine and settled into your chest. You were breathless.
“How do we…um, how does this start?”
“We’ve already started, haven’t we?” he replied, a little mysteriously. “Sit with me?”
What made you drop to the floor beneath you instead of onto the comfortable looking seat, you couldn’t say, but here you were resting back on your heels as you took another drink of water from the glass bottle in your hand.
“I was going to suggest the chairs, but if you prefer the ground, I’m happy to say I do too.”
Walter stepped forward and lowered himself to the ground beside you, one knee splayed wide and almost touching yours, the other knee bent with an elbow draped over it as he leaned toward you. You could swear you caught him sniffing the air.
“I don’t know what to say,” you spoke with caution, suddenly overwhelmed. The day was just becoming a series of flip-flops in your mind as you imagined yourself, sometimes bold and determined to experience what you could, then timid and nervous as the reality overcame you. Once at ease and open, now shy and reserved.
“That’s okay,” Walter replied. “The better for me to begin.”
Why did that sound like such a familiar phrase? You took another drink and nodded for him to continue.
“I’d like to continue our time together by undressing you, one way or another. You have a choice, which you can leave to me if you’d like. I can do it now, in this form,” he paused, cocked his head to one side, then the other as he cracked his neck. “Or I can shift, in your presence or not, and do it that way.”
What did he mean by “shift”? Surely, he must mean change. As in undress and don a mask. But then you remembered his teeth, somehow longer. And you thought about the subtle way the atmosphere seemed to shimmer and transport you and you wondered if he really did mean “shift.’
“That sounds like two choices,” you whispered and caught his grin, canines even longer than before.
“Perceptive. I like it. Need a few moments?”
“What happens after I’m…I mean, I know what happens, I guess… but just, like, how…” you trailed off, not really sure what you were asking.
“We’re playing a game here, really. That’s all. It can be as simple or intricate as you’d like, though, you’re right. Our time is ticking away.”
“You do it.” You rushed, barely letting him finish his response.
“Here or…?”
“I’ll close my eyes.” The thought of watching his shift, though intriguing, also made you wonder if it would make you more nervous than you already suddenly found yourself again. Maybe it was better to just jump in and get started, as much as you were also enjoying speaking with Walter in his human form.
“Why don’t you take the basket into the bathroom? Pick out whatever intrigues you for use and come out when you’re ready. I’ll shift before you return. Sound okay?”
You nodded and he helped you to stand, then handed you the basket and gently urged you toward the bathroom door. Before he let go of your arm, he stepped in close, slipping his hand over yours and pressing it to his chest as he tugged you toward him.
“Do you mind if I give you one kiss this way before we meet next? You can say no, but it’s nice, I think, a good way to gauge your interest.”
Did he somehow think you weren’t interested? How had you hidden the drool from him? You’d been too quiet, clearly. Mesmerized by everything that had happened already in such a short time and you’d lost your voice, unable to truly communicate your desire. You were ruining everything, obviously.
“I’d like to kiss you very much,” you admitted, peering up into his eyes, which you now noticed were not the 100% blue you’d originally thought. Was this man really about to change shape? Did it matter? It didn’t matter in the least as far as how well he could kiss you, because while you were contemplating the genetics of the man in front of you, he was leaning down to capture your lips in what started as a chaste, closed mouth peck that grew steadily more intense as you felt his free arm slip up your back to settle a hand against the nape of your neck while yours slipped around his waist and urged him closer, as if you were guided by some unknown force. You felt his tongue lick along your bottom lip and you opened your mouth to him as if you’d known him your whole life.
With your hand still pressed against his sternum, you could feel his heart beat faster as each second passed and the kiss grew more heated. When he pulled away you actually whined.
“I’m glad to see you are interested,” he teased with a grin before he spun you toward the door again and pressed you inside. “Now hop on in and don’t take too long. I want to treat you for as long as I can.”
The bathroom was just as sumptuous as the main room. A dark tiled shower took up one entire wall of the room and you couldn’t tell if the color was black or just the deepest forest green you’d ever seen. Instead of a curtain or sliding door, a glass panel separated the shower from the rest of the room with an opening opposite the brass water valves to step in. What you imagined must be a rain shower head jutted out from the ceiling. You didn’t want to waste any more of your precious time, but wondered if there’d be any left to enjoy this shower when all was said and done. The rest of the bathroom fixtures and amenities would have to wait for inspection, since you needed to pay attention to your basket. You set it on the veined marble counter and finally lifted the cloth completely off.
Only the cloth wasn’t exactly a cloth. It was a cape, tucked neatly on top of a few more bottles of water, a small loaf of bread, some cut cheeses and fruit in a covered bowl. And that was it for the tame picnic items.
You pulled a short, white peasant dress trimmed in lace and a red apron with black satin ribbon criss-crossing the front out of the basket, along with what appeared to be a pair of black fishnet stockings and thought of Walter’s comments. Were you expected to change or only if you wanted this part of the experience? Finally, you noticed a few heavy leather straps and as you pulled them from the basket you realized they must be meant as restraints, but for whom? You or him? You also noticed a distinct lack of silicon implements.
You heard a rustle of some sort outside the bathroom door, reminding you that Walter was waiting and time was fleeting and you really needed to make a decision about how you wanted to enter the room again. Walter had suggested you take the basket with you. And he was going to be … different when you saw him again, wasn’t he? And you had asked him to undress you. Maybe he anticipated that undressing would be … vigorous. What if this costume was meant for that? You had brought a change of clothes but didn’t think you’d be leaving here with one less outfit in your already sparse wardrobe.
Your mind made up, you stripped quickly and donned the outfit, amazed at how simple the apron was to slip over your head, then pull the satin ties tight with your own hand. You always imagined an intricate article of intimate clothing like this would take so much more effort. Maybe it would be something you’d feel comfortable and confident enough to do outside this hotel someday.
For now, you were drawn back into the moment with a thud on the door and a low growl that sounded like “Come out.”
You finished dressing, wrapping the cape around your neck and drawing up the hood. You still weren’t wearing shoes, so you could feel the ground through the wide gaps of the fishnets as you stepped back into the room, picnic basket on your arm. It felt different. More uneven. Crunchy leaves crackled beneath as you stepped onto what now felt like real grass, fading to dirt, fading to ground littered with pine needles and dry leaves. Ferns peaked out from the tree trunks. And a supermoon shone overhead.
This was not your room. It was on the other side of the bathroom door, to be fair, but this was not the room you’d stepped into 20 minutes ago. And yet, how could it be anything but? A twig snapped to your left and drew your attention as you realized you didn’t see Walter. You’d thought he’d be right outside the door, waiting for you, maybe in a chair, maybe on the bed. But you didn’t see him, only his clothes folded neatly on the table where your picnic basket had been. Suddenly, you felt a rush of air next to you.
“What are you doing here, little one?”
You had a hard time deciding what to focus on as the words were spoken. The actual choice of the words themselves, which harkened back to that story that drifted through the tendrils of your mind, whispering “You know me?” Or the rough, low way those words tumbled from him, hungry and full of want. Was this the game?
“Your voice sounds so strange, Walter. Is everything okay?” you asked, plucking the words from the cobwebs in your head.
“I think I just swallowed some water wrong.”
You took a deep breath and turned, ready to catch him, ready to see. He was glorious and you were awestruck. It took a few moments of taking in the sight of his body, arms slightly elongated, up on the balls of his feet, hair that looked like chocolate silk covering his body but not in a way that you couldn’t see the tone and definition of his skin underneath, nose and mouth pulled forward, ears up. Ears up.
“Walter, what big ears you have,” you cooed, reaching up to touch them, though waiting for the assent in his eyes. When you could see he would allow it, you brushed your fingers along the back side, then scratched a little in the crease where they met his head and he closed his eyes for a moment. His eyes.
“Walter, what big eyes you have,” your voice a bit lower, sultry, as if the confidence you’d lost earlier had found its way back to you. He opened them and you’d have sworn sparks flew as his deep blue eyes pierced yours before you saw him drag his gaze over your face, down your neck, back and forth between your breasts, unfortunately still covered. He must have felt the same because he didn’t linger on the clothes, but when he reached your thighs, clad in the black hose he snarled, baring his sharp teeth. Sharp teeth.
“Walter,” you teased. “What big teeth you have.”
“The better to eat you with, my dear,” he growled and pounced, swatting the picnic basket to the ground before lifting you by the waist and hoisting you over his shoulder. He only needed a few steps before he could toss you back onto the plump bed. Your cape hood dropped off your head and your dress skirt hiked up a little, but not like it mattered.
Walter was between your legs, nudging your thighs wide with his own as he folded himself over you, arms caging your head. With a snarl, he began to nuzzle down your neck, sniffing along the way.
“You smell good,” he grunted as he drew a paw over your chest. “Smelled you from the moment I walked in the room, but I wanted to be closer. Like this.”
You peered down towards his hand and noticed the sharp claw of what should be an index finger drawn back and ready to slice through the black satin down your breast. The apron draped to your sides as easily as you’d put it on, practically one handed, and it was gone now. You didn’t really care if the white dress met the same fate as the apron, but the cape was quality. Surely there was no need to ruin it. You reached to untie the bow at your neck just as Walter sliced easily through the front of the dress. The rip as he reared back and grabbed a side of split fabric in both hands to finish the job was satisfying.
Since you’d decided to just leave off the bra and panties for the sake of time, you were now left like an unwrapped package on the bed, intricately woven stretchy black thread the only thing sitting between you and Walter. Your chest was heaving and so was his. And since he was now up on his knees instead of bent over you, you had a chance to glance away from his face toward his hips and you had to bite your lip.
He was huge. Like, possibly not gonna fit huge. He must have seen the hesitation on your face.
“Don’t worry,” came the sound as he dropped back off the bed, knelt on the floor, hooked his arms under your thighs, and tugged you to the edge of the bed. You felt his nuzzle against the skin of your belly, the warm, wet air of his exhale trailing down your side, into the crook of your thigh, and finally settling right on top of your cunt. He was so deft as he slipped a finger into your slit, then cut the thread between your legs as he pulled the finger free, widening the hole to give him greater access.
The noises you made could absolutely be interpreted as nothing other than consent, but you wanted to make sure he didn’t stop, as the contract said he could if he had any doubt about your permission. There could be no doubt.
“Please, don’t stop. Put your mouth on me. Make me cum.”
There was the slightest of huffs, as if he was smiling the briefest of victory smiles, before his assail began. It was measured, it was slow, it was a thorough gathering of information. It was infuriating. As you were about to open your impatient mouth and remind him that the clock was ticking the minutes away, like the insufferable bitch she was, he shifted tactics.
Every little nuance he’d taken note of, every amount of pressure and length of lick that produced some desired effect was now fortified. This was the only thing he did. And at a brisker rate, as if he’d calculated the pleasure you’d derived at the low speed and determined the exponential pleasure you’d get from the real speed.
They had not put mathematical genius in his bio, but here you were getting eaten alive better than anyone had ever done it before. And you dared say, maybe after. This could get expensive.
When you couldn’t take it anymore, when you were afraid the remaining time had to be expired because you kept awakening from mind bending bliss to find him still lapping and sucking at your pussy as if he just got started and how long had it been, my gods, you grabbed hold of the curly hair around his head and tugged as you begged.
“Stop. Stop,” you were breathless. “Walter, please stop. It’s so good. It’s too good. I don’t want you to stop but we have to stop. My time must be up, I have to go.”
His laugh wasn’t cruel, but it was sinister “We have time. Don’t worry. I made sure.”
You didn’t dare look at the clock. Your gaze was locked into his anyway, whites of his eyes replaced by a deep, lustful red. He held your stare while dragging his tongue and snout along your heated skin.
He slipped an arm under your waist, tugging your torso in one direction as he stepped a hind leg up to nudge your hips in the other. He settled in between your legs once he had you parallel to the edge of the bed. You threw your arms over your head as he caressed your outer thigh, coaxing it around his waist while bending to savor the scent you'd released for him. When he was satisfied, he moved again to climb over your body.
You were aching for him, arching into the heat radiating from the closeness of his form. As you reached for his neck to pull him even closer, you realized why he'd kissed you before the turn. It would be awkward now to put your mouth on his. The shape didn't lend itself to an easy slotting of lips against one another, though you yearned for the recent memory.
As if he could sense your desire, he leaned in and nuzzled against your neck, behind your ear, then along your throat. He pushed your chin up with his muzzle to bare your pulse to him and then he nipped.
You whimpered at the sensation and even as he licked to soothe it, he did it again, a little harder, just shy of breaking skin.
"Please," you begged, eager to feel the power, though you knew it was strictly forbidden and you trusted he did as well.
His growl was full of bravado, as if he was proud to have you begging him to break the rules.
"You wanna get me in trouble?" Walter grumbled in your ear as he ran his paws up and down your body, dragging his claws carefully over your skin. He snarled when they snagged on the stockings and looked to you for approval before he tore them away from your legs completely.
"If you can't bite me, then at least mate me," you pleaded, knowing full well he couldn't do that either but you were too far gone to care. It would at least get him thinking about sinking his cock in you one way or another.
He reached for the drawer of the heavy wooden night stand and produced a few foil packets, dropping all but one on the bedside table and handing you the last, prompting an eyebrow raised in question from you. His response was measured, as if he struggled to control something deep inside.
"You have another choice to make," he began with a low rumble as he sought understanding in your eyes. "I can't mate you directly and I'm sure you know that. I have access to...toys, equipment that would allow you to feel that sensation, but it won't be me. If instead, you're willing to use protection with me, I will gladly fill you up."
If he wouldn't go bare, so be it. He wiggled his claws as you attempted to hand him the packet, sure you'd make a debacle of trying to sheath the monster between his legs.
"Just to be safe, you'd better do it. These are pretty sharp. That ok?" he grunted at you in question.
You nodded and scooted out from under him, up the bed so you had a little leverage. He kept a knee on the mattress as he stood tall from his other hind leg still on the floor and waited for you to tear the package and roll the condom down his cock.
"Is there anything special I need to do to make it fit?" you asked, vaguely aware of how ridiculous the question sounded but eager nonetheless to get past this part and onto the one where Walter would be deep inside you, filling every inch, stroking every wall. You'd already seen the size, but forgotten your initial trepidation thanks to the glorious head he'd given you.
Surely, no standard drugstore rubber would cover it. His huff was kind, and you could swear you saw the twinkle of a smile in his eyes as he answered.
"We bring them in special. They're designed for a ... more substantial, and sometimes even exotic, need. But if you know how to use one, you know how to use them all. Still alright?"
You nodded with a smile, and set to work, letting the heft and feel of his member draw you back into your haze of lust and desire now that logistics were out of the way. You worked the rubber over his girth and found yourself imagining what it would be like to have him split you in two. You couldn't wait and he could tell.
"So eager," he grumbled as he grasped your shoulders and eased you onto your back.
You thought about trying to tame your excitement, but to what end? For a brief moment the thought that you surely didn't have much more time left flitted through your mind and then you let the excitement and anticipation take over.
"Please take me now," you begged and captured the side of your lower lip with your teeth as you once again pictured the incoming pleasure.
"If anything feels uncomfortable, you can tell me to stop," he murmured in your ear as he lowered himself over you. "Say 'woodsman' and I stop. Understood?"
He pulled back to find your reply and when he had his confirmation he didn't hold back any further. As if no time had passed between when he had coaxed so much moisture from your core and now, you were still dripping for him when he grabbed ahold of his thick member and placed the tip at your entrance.
Any other man would have slid in easily, but Walter wasn't any other man and he knew it. Once the tip breached your aching pussy, he carefully nudged a knuckle alongside, pressing in and loosening the way. You spread your legs wider for him and willed your walls to relax, though they wouldn't.
Remembering what he said during the exchange about the condom, you pulled a hand off his shoulder, down his furry chest, and in between your bodies, reaching for the spot where you were connected. The growl he let out when he realized what you were doing was invigorating and spurred you on.
You watched him bend his head down so he could take in the sight of you stroking him a few times before you began to massage the folds at your entrance. You let your fingers tease your clit and when you couldn't stand it any longer, a time which you were sure had already passed, you split your index and middle finger and gently coaxed your opening wider.
As he felt the ease, Walter sank ever deeper until he was bottomed out and pressed as far in as he could. You saw stars, immediately, and loosened even more, coating him with warmth and juices that helped his movements.
In another time, with another man, that may have been it. Most men, if they even took the time to draw an orgasm from you through the missionary position, would collapse in almost relief as soon as you came, spending their load and ending the night then and there.
But you'd already established Walter was no mere man. He took your sigh as his cue to help you feel that way again and again. And when he couldn't tear another orgasm from you in this position, no matter how hard he pumped or how high he got your legs over his head, he pulled out and flipped you to all fours and slammed back in from behind, eager to wrench at least on last shout of pleasure from your lips before he spilled his seed in the condom and sent you to your belly with a slap on your ass as he withdrew from you entirely.
"Am I charged extra for that?" you mustered the energy to ask once he'd returned from the bathroom. You peeled one exhausted eye open to see he was back to his human form, though still completely unclothed and you wondered if anyone was lucky enough to enjoy that experience as well.
"Sorry?" he asked, a quizzical look on his face.
"Does this place charge by the volume? Was there a limit to the number of orgasms allowed? I imagine it has to be like the extra mini-bar charges they tack onto your bill when you check out of any other hotel, right?"
His laugh was deep and infectious. It reverberated through the room and your chest as he climbed into the bed beside you with the bowl of cheese and fruit in one hand and the bread in the other.
"We don't have a limit. You can have as many as you want. Care for a snack? Get your energy back?” Walter took the time to feed you small bites while your boneless body slowly recovered.
"We have to be so far over my time limit. Am I about to turn into a pumpkin now?" you asked after swallowing a final bite of bread.
Walter laughed again and it warmed your heart. Maybe he was just a really good actor, but nothing so far had rang false, so why would he try to fake this? He thought you were funny.
"No, nothing so drastic. But if you do want to rinse off before checkout, you should get a move on. I could carry you if you're still not up to moving just yet?"
You nodded, and as if you weighed nothing, Walter lifted you from the bed and deposited you in the shower cabin, away from the shower head while he fiddled with the water faucet. Once the steam began to rise, he pulled you in with him and helped you lather up and rinse off, careful to keep your hair away from the spray as best he could. Then he dried you off with a fluffy towel and helped you dress in your extra set of clothes, before tucking the cape in your bag with your original outfit.
"It's part of the basket fee," he answered your unasked question with a ridiculous wink. "If you book it again, they'll give you a discount, but you'll have to remember to bring it with you."
As you stepped out of the bathroom, the room again appeared as it did when you first entered what felt like hours ago. Surely more than two. Walter could sense your confusion.
“The hotel has some special features we don’t actually advertise,” he offered, as he pulled on his pants. “We use them at our discretion, but it means you get an experience unlike others. This room, for example, truly can transform into a deep forest. And I like to stretch the time here, especially for newcomers. When you walk out into that hall, it’ll be two hours since your arrival. We’ve been here for longer though. But do me a favor, wouldja? Keep that to yourself?”
You nodded and smiled, appreciative of his special treatment, then took one last look around the room to make sure you hadn't forgotten anything. Walter walked you to the door and gave you a final kiss goodbye.
“I do hope everything was to your satisfaction. Hopefully, you’ll come back sometime,” he grinned at you as you stumbled backwards down the hall, not wanting to turn away from his gorgeous face. You were absolutely going to figure out a way to pick up some extra shift and make your way back to this hotel again if it killed you.
Everything HC Taglist: (as always, let me know if you want on or off)
Werewolf!walter only (if you asked on the teaser):
Special tag: @kittenofdoomage (cause sometimes you love my stuff and this one's a monster fucker lol!)
@ellethespaceunicorn (hope this is okay! Tag me in whichever HC character werewolf you end up with!) @juliaorpll78 @martha-oi @cardierreh15 if you asked and aren't here, Tumblr won’t let me tag you. Sorry!
Okay, Y'all I'm trying something new and posting one of my Henry Cavill Character fics. I haven't posted a fanfic in so long it's gonna be a short story probably only a two-parter maybe 3. Let me know what you think! I loved writing this. I think it's so cute!!!!
Warnings: None for Part 1 :) Definitely will be smut in part 2!
High school football coach Sy and school guidance counselor OFC
I was locked in a trance, typing in progress notes from an early morning meeting I’d just finished with a student. The sounds of the office, which was just coming to life outside my door, fuelled me. I almost never came in this early. But, one of my seniors was having a crisis and this was the only time we could work into her busy schedule. It’s gonna break my heart when that girl graduates this year. I get so attached to the students. I can’t help working as a school counselor. It's hard not to.
“You’re in early,” The voice coming from the doorway made me jump. He chuckled softly. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.” After a brief heart attack, I finally looked up. I smiled when my eyes met his.
“No, it’s okay, I just didn’t see you! Good morning Coach, What can I do for you?” His soft blue eyes held my gaze, before shooting me a gentle smile. Coach Syverson and I had become good friends since he started working at the school a little over a year ago. Like many good high school football coaches, they made a history teaching spot for him. Unlike others, he’s actually a great teacher!
I met Logan Syverson for the first time in a staff meeting. Our principal introduced him at the beginning of the meeting going on and on about all the improvements he would bring to our team and our community. He certainly looked like a football player. The guy was huge! Tall, large muscles, and a full beard. His eyes were a deep blue. He had a winning smile and a southern accent. The English department was drooling. I hated him immediately.
I figured he was just going to be a self absorbed prick like the last coach. who only cared about the popular students, peaked in high school, and got fired because he got a little too close to one of the cheerleaders. We were not at all sorry to see him go. Well, those of us with half a brain weren’t anyway. Some of the community and staff were more worried about the football program. But I digress.
I was even more annoyed with him when I caught him falling asleep during the same meeting 30 minutes later when we were discussing the budget for new textbooks. I’m not exactly sure what came over me but I kicked him under the table. He was immediately alert. I expected him to glare at me. Or maybe even smirk. But the look on his face could only be described as apologetic. He quickly caught up to me when we were leaving the meeting. “Some first impression I made, huh?” When I didn’t immediately respond he added. “I swear I’m not some asshole that doesn’t care about education, that’s not like me, just didn’t sleep much last night. I had to take my dog to the emergency vet, she broke her leg in the woods late in the evening and didn’t get back until late and…”
“Is she okay?” I asked quickly. He looked completely dumbfounded.
“Uhm what?” He asked, clearly confused. I smiled sympathetically. I did exactly what I told my students not to do and judged him too quickly and I felt like an ass about it.
“You’re dog, is she okay?” He smiled softly and nodded.
“Yeah, Yeah she is. They got her all wrapped up and in a cast, poor pup, but she’ll be alright.” There was a brief pause and then. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”
“The students know me as Miss Plummer, but it’s Alayna. And um.. Sorry I kicked you. I don’t know why I did that.” I smiled sheepishly.
“Alayna,” He repeated. And then chuckled and squeezed my shoulder “No need to apologize, I’m glad you did. That would’ve been embarrassing. Falling asleep in my first staff meeting doesn’t really look good. Thanks for saving my ass back there!”
We were fast friends from that point on!
Sy pushed off the door frame he’d been leaning against and walked into my office. “Brought ya coffee, I was gonna sneak in and leave it on your desk but I guess it’s you surprising me this morning,” He said, setting the cup from our local coffee shop down on my desk.
“That’s sweet of you!” I took a sip and almost choked. I expected just plain black coffee. He wasn’t the kind of guy to order fancy coffee. But this was actually my coffee order. “How did you know my coffee order?” He had a big grin on his face now.
“I remembered it from that morning when we ran into each other in line a few weeks ago. Thought I’d be nice and bring my work wife some coffee since I was there.” He shrugged. He really was such a sweetheart. He looked tough and scary. I know he did. When he and a few of the other teachers in the history hall gathered between classes they looked intimidating. At least from a student's perspective.I knew them all well though. I’ve talked with students failing his class because they wouldn’t ask questions. When I asked why, they said they were nervous. But he was certainly no one to be afraid of. Yes, he could yell, but he saved that for the football field. The man was a damn teddy bear.
“Thank you!” I smiled. I quickly looked out into the guidance office to make sure there were no students around. “But I know you didn’t walk all the way down here just to bring me coffee for the hell of it. You’re buttering me up for something. What do you need, Logan?” He laughed and shook his head plopping down on the edge of my desk.
“You know me too well, sugar. Two things!” He said. I rolled my eyes. “Hey now young lady, don’t get an attitude with me I’m not asking you to give up a kidney!” I hid my smirk behind a sip of coffee and nodded at him to continue. “First, Can you look up Ty’s grades for me just at some point by the end of the day. He came into my office this morning and was all nervous about his algebra grade, swearing up and down it’s because he failed one quiz. But, I’m pretty sure,” I cut him off.
“He’s not turning in his homework because he just started dating Caitlyn and they’ve been staying up texting all night.” He raised an eyebrow.
“Uh, Yeah, How’d you know?”
“Caitlyn stopped in to see me this morning and we had a chat about it, amongst other things. I’ll double check but I’m sure you’re right. I’ll email it to you so you can have a chat with him. I was going to call him in today but he listens better to you. When you talked about being a veteran and your time in Iraq at the Labor Day assembly, I think that really struck something with him. He looks up to you.” his eyes locked with mine and he smiled softly placing his hand over mine on the desk just for a second.
“Thank you for saying that,” He said before moving his hand and leaning on the desk again. I just smiled.
“What’s the other thing?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because you could’ve just sent me that in an email.” He smirked. And his nose crinkled a little. Oh no.
“So our first away game is tomorrow night,”
“I know,”
“And you’re a big football fan, and you love those boys don’t you?” He was deflecting
“What do you want, Sy?” I asked again. He let out a long breath.
“Carol was supposed to be a student chaperone for the student fans buuuttt well, you heard her kid is really sick? I need you to come chaperone. Actually. I kinda already said you would.” He quickly stood up from my desk and backed up to the other side, like he was afraid I’d hit him.
I just leaned back in my chair and groaned,
“ugh Sy! What if I had plans?” I cocked an eyebrow at him. He chuckled
“You don’t!” I scoffed
“You don’t know that?” I retorted. He smirked
“Yeah, what big plans do you have for Friday night?” He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. I sighed.
“Okay I don’t! But I could’ve!” I argued. “Why, didn’t you ask one of the other guys? Like Nick or I don’t know Mike?” I asked.
“Nick’s an assistant coach, he’ll already be there. And we both know as much as Mike loves teaching…he does not want to spend his Friday night with the kids and at a football game making sure there’s no funny business. And you love the kids.” He was pleading now. Practically giving me puppy dog eyes. “And…Maybe I want you there,” He winked playfully. I looked down and jiggled the mouse on my computer to hide my blush.
Jessica, who works the front desk of the guidance office swears he flirts with me. But I know he’s not. We’re friends. Good friends. We tease each other to make work a little more fun at best. But that's all it is. A man like Logan Syverson would never look twice at a girl like me. He’s fit and strong and tall and handsome. I’m pretty but I’m short and round and a little too quirky for my own good. Girls like me only get men like him in the movies. And I’m not stupid enough to believe otherwise. Moment’s like these though. I do wonder a little. But I don’t let my thoughts wander too far.
“Oh yeah?” I joke, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, I mean maybe you’re our good luck charm. You’ve been at all our home games this year and we haven’t lost a game.” He said with a cheeky smile.
“We’ve only had two Sy.” I say matter of fact. He just shakes his head.
“That doesn’t mean you’re not good luck, but okay,” He held his hands up in defeat. “If you don’t want to do it I’ll figure something out. I messed up and didn’t ask you first. I’ll tell the boys their favorite guidance counselor doesn’t want to come support them. It’ll break their little hearts sugar but I’m sure they’ll find,” He pauses and lets out an exaggerated sigh “Some way to pull through and play a good game of football.” He frowned, shaking his head. I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows looking straight at him.
“Are you done?” I deadpanned. He snickered softly and nodded. “Fine, I’ll go,” He smiled and walked over squeezing my shoulder.
“You’re the best! It’s supposed to be chilly! Wear a sweater! And Free coffee,on me all night! I promise,” I rolled my eyes.
“Yeah, yeah okay,” I chuckled.
“Seriously, I owe you sugar! I’m happy you’ll be there, I better get goin, class starts soon and I probably shouldn’t be late being that I’m the teacher,” He chuckled.
“Get out of my office Logan!” I laughed. He smiled.
“You’re the best!” He said one more time before finally walking out of my office. I shook my head and tapped at the keys on my keyboard to wake up my computer. I felt eyes on me and looked up to find Jessica standing in my doorway.
“Don’t start!” I warned her.
“Please, sugar. I really want you there!” she mocked. “He knows your coffee order, Alayna. How long are you going to ignore what’s right in front of you?” she asked exasperated.
“It’s not like that Jess, He was just being sweet because he needed the help.” I said.
“Like you wouldn’t have done it anyway. You were trying to play coy but we both know you would have done it anyway.” She laughed. I blushed. And threw an eraser at her.
“Get back to work!” She laughed.
“Whatever you say… Sugar!” I snorted and we both chuckled for a minute. “I mean it Alayna, He’ll be kinda busy during the game and yes you’ll be keeping an eye on the students but take the opportunity to flirt back, he likes you, I’m not wrong!” She turned and walked back to her desk before I had a chance to say anything. And before I could spend any more time thinking about it my email notifications went off pulling me back into my work.
The rest of my work day went by in a blur. I had meeting after meeting with students. My seniors were in panic mode, my juniors have early onset senioritis, and the freshman and sophomores came into vent about the daily woes of high school drama. Oh to be 16 again.
With a full schedule of meetings I barely had time to eat lunch even in my office. When my phone lit up with a group text from two of my girlfriends asking about our weekly Thursday night dinner. I was quick to respond.
(I’ll be there!) I sent the text, before packing up my desk for the evening. It had been a late night for me so it was just past 5. I didn’t bother going home first to change into something more casual. They were used to the office style by now. I felt my shoulders relax a little as I slipped into the booth next to skyler.
“Hey!” she said cheerfully, slowly pushing the glass of white wine they’d ordered for me closer.
“You know me so well!” I smiled at her.
“Long day?” Hayley asked from across the table, she picked up a tortilla chip and filled it with queso. I shrugged.
“Not long in the sense that it was rough, just busy,” Skyler nodded and took a sip for her wine glass.
“I feel that. I tried to get some school work done while the kids were down for a nap.” She runs an in-home daycare. She adores kids. But she’s also going back to school for a degree, Pediatric nursing. She’s a saint. I don’t know how she does it.
“I commend you babe. The school is asking me to take classes, they want someone to take on the position as school psychologist. They’ve been trying to nudge me toward it the past couple of weeks. It’d be a raise but, that on top of the current workload? I don’t wanna drown myself ya know?”
“I totally get it, it’s not easy! But you should think about it. You’ve talked about it before! At least consider it.” Skyler said.
“She’s got a point dude,” Hayley added. “Look at you guys moving up in the world while I’m stuck with an art block. If I can’t think of anything, my online shop isn’t gonna take off and I’ll be stuck at the factory forever!” She groaned and downed a quarter of her strawberry lemonade that was no doubt spiked. I looked sideways, meeting Skyler's eye. She was giving me the same look.
“You’re just getting started Hayley.” Skyler said.
“I know but if..”
“Ah, no buts!” I cut her off “We have to allow ourselves room for mistakes and error when we’re trying something new. You will get there. Give yourself the love you give your art! I don’t wanna hear anymore of that self deprecating bullshit from you! The people love their ghost fish!” I demanded, trying to hide a chuckle. She could be so stubborn! She was starting an online etsy shop for commissions and spreading the word through social media. She had all these fun ideas. She was a great artist. But of course it’s not an easy way to make money. And right now, things were slow. She would get there though! I know she would!
“Have I ever told you how annoying it is when you use your psychoanalysis shit on us?” she deadpanned.
“Everyday but I still do it anyway, and that’s why you love me!” She just laughed.
“Yeah okay buddy. Enough work talk, I lifted a bunch of heavy shit all day and I don’t wanna think about it. I just wanna eat my chips and queso and get drunk with my friends!” She said and scooped another chip through the queso. I laughed and held up my glass
“Cheers to that! Although we all know damn well it’s a Thursday night and we all have to get up early and we drove separately so drunk is relative but yes!” Skyler laughed and clinked her glass with mine.
“Let her have her moment. Cheers to drunk Thursday dinner!” she said.
“Fuck yeah!” Hayley added and added her glass in with ours. We all took a drink and it was quiet for only a second.
“So,” Skyler spoke immediately. “It’s been a week, what's new?”
“Nothing for me, just still considering the offer to go back to school. My job would pay for it. Love life is still dry and I’ve bought like 3 new spicy romance books on my kindle this week!” I said laughing.
“Fun!” Skyler smiled. “Hayley?” She asked and directed her attention across the table.
“I went to Target and spent an obscene amount of money on fall stuff. We have a fall party coming up at work that I volunteered to do face painting for, but that should be fun! Oh there’s this new movie that came out I want you guys to come see with me I was hoping maybe tomorrow night?” she said. I started to agree. But then remembered my conversation with Sy earlier.
“Oh tomorrow night? I can’t. I’m actually busy!” They both looked at me with raised eyebrows.
“Since when are you busy on a friday night?” Hayley asked. Here we go. This is gonna open a whole can of worms. If Jess was good at getting my hopes up about Sy, these two were going to have me down right delusional.
“There’s a football game. I like to support the team.” I said. Skyler snickered and a smirk spread across Hayley’s face.
“You like to support the coach you mean?” Skyler asked.
“That’s not true! I’ve always been a football fan!” I defended myself. Hayley chuckled
“Sure but since when do you go to away games? Isn’t it like 2 hours away?” She raised an eyebrow. I sighed.
“Coach stopped by the office this morning, one of the other teachers that was supposed to chaperone the roadies tomorrow canceled and since he and I are friends he volunteered me to do it. He buttered me up with free coffee this morning and practically begged me to go tomorrow and… I just can’t say no to him. Plus he said he really wants me to be there.” I swirled my wine glass and stared down at it. I knew the looks they were giving me. I heard skyler squeal.
“Shut up! He asked you to come because he wants to spend time with you! Watch, I bet next week he’ll ask you out!” She bounced in her seat.
“He does not! He’s going to be busy with the team! He’s not going to have time to talk to me or anything.” I said taking a big gulp of wine.
“Why else would he say he wants you there though. And clearly you want him to hang out with you. Or you want to hang out with him. Or you wouldn’t have given up your precious Friday night in!” Hayley smirked.
“Okay, so what if I do. He’s not into me like that. He’s just friendly. He’s southern, it's just how he is!” I said, trying to hold onto whatever sanity I had left.
“Really?” Skyler said. “Does he bring anyone else coffee? Ask if he can eat lunch in anyone else’s office?” Hayley but it
“Didn’t he get you a christmas gift last year?” she asked.
“He was my secret santa!” I stated. They both sighed.
“ I don’t know why you can’t see it but he likes you!” Skyler said. I started to object but Hayley cut me off.
“You don’t have to believe us. Just pay attention to how he acts around you tomorrow and the next couple of days. He's trying to make a move. And I know you have your little no coworkers rule,”
“Because if…”
“Ah, I don’t wanna hear it! He’s clearly trying to get your attention. And you work in a public high school it's not like everyone else isn’t hooking up.” She stated.
“She’s got a point, remember all the teachers when we were in school? And he’s not just trying to hook up. He’s playing the long game,” Skyler said. “All we’re saying is IF we’re right,”
“And we are,” Hayley added. Skyler gave her side eye but laughed.
“If he asks you out you should give him a chance. We’ve never met him but it’s clear he’s so into you. And he seems like a great guy. Don’t push him away because something COULD go wrong.” she said. At that point the waiter came up and we placed our order. I also ordered another glass of wine. But a wine buzz wasn’t enough to convince me they were right. Sy couldn’t like me. I wasn’t his type. But it didn’t matter. I will go tomorrow and have a good time watching the game and cheering on the boys and watching Sy in his element. And when it’s all said and done I’ll ride home with the student section and maybe catch the chance to say goodbye to my friend before we leave. And on Monday everything will be as it always has been. Sy and I are friends.
I repeat that to myself as I walk the hall toward the gym after school on Friday. I turned down the hall toward the locker rooms and found his office door open. Sy was leaning back in his desk chair watching the tape from a few weeks ago. He noticed me before I spoke. He paused the video and smiled.
“Hey you! To what do I owe the honor? You never venture down this way?”
“Just coming to double check the plan for tonight! We’re meeting back here at 5:15 and the bus leaves at 5:45?” I asked him. He nodded, running a hand over his beard.
“Yeah, but I was thinking, you got plans for dinner?” He asked and raised an eyebrow.
“Uh I was just gonna run home for dinner, why do you ask?” I leaned against the doorway and crossed my arms over my chest. I watched curiously as he chewed at his bottom lip for a moment.
“I was gonna grab a bite to eat in town before the game. I won’t have time to go all the way home. Do you wanna come with me?” He finally made eye contact with me again and gave me a soft smile.
“Oh um,” I hesitated for a second.
“I’ll buy,” He smirked. I rolled my eyes.
“You don’t have to do that, Sy,” I said softly. He stood up grabbing his keys off the desk.
“I know, I want to.” He smiled and brushed his shoulder against mine as he walked out the door. “Come on, I’ll drive.” I raised an eyebrow
“Driving me to dinner and you’re paying? Sy if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were flirting with me.” the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk and he stopped walking. He turned toward me and bit his lip trying to hold back a grin.
“Alayna,” He chuckled nervously, “I find it hard to believe after all this time…” He was cut off by a loud whistle down the hallway.
“Well ain’t that a cute couple!” a voice said in a horrible mock southern accent “Get it coach!” One of Sy’s boys called from just outside the weight room. Another one of the football players popped his head out the door to see what was going on and started making kissy sounds with his lips. Sy dropped his chin to his chest and shook his head but his shoulders shook when he chuckled, giving him away. He loved those boys he couldn’t be mad if he wanted to be.
“Tyler you’re already on thin ice don’t make me bench you tonight! You too Matt. Don’t think I forgot about the little stunt you pulled in the parking lot last week!” He gave them a stern look
“Sorry coach!” they said in unison
“It was funny though,” Matt mumbled. Sy shook his head
“Sure, You boys get out of here and get something to eat, I don’t need you passing out on me on the field tonight.” He held Matt’s gaze.
“It was one time!” He stressed.
“And it’s only gonna be one if I can help it. Go eat!” He barked. The boys immediately straightened up and nodded.
“Yes coach!” Logan just chuckled and we kept walking.
“They adore you,” I said. He smiled
“Nah, they just know I’m not kidding’” I laughed.
“Oh come on Sy, you aren’t that mean, or you wouldn’t care so much,” We walked out the back door to the teacher parking lot and headed to his truck. “Hey… what were you saying earlier,” He raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about sugar,” He smirked.
“Sure you don’t cowboy,” I rolled my eyes and hopped up into the truck after he unlocked it. He slid in next to me and started the engine.
“Where do you wanna eat?” He looked over at me and raised an eyebrow. I shrugged.
“Doesn’t matter to me, you’re buying,” I said flatly.
“Sugar,” He threw his arm over the back of the seat, his fingertips brushing my shoulder, as he backed out of the parking spot. He left it there as he pulled out on the road. “Don’t be shy with me, I know you love food darlin. I’ll drive all around town and we’ll starve until you tell me what you want.” I looked over at him just in time to make eye contact before his eyes shifted back toward the road. He shook his head and tried to hide his smirk.
“You are so dramatic,” I teased, trying to play it cool but I could feel a blush creeping up my cheeks.
“Oh, I’m dramatic? Weren’t you the one tearing up in her office because of a book you were readin?” He snickered. I reached over and playfully smacked him in the chest.
“Shut up!” I laughed. He held his hand to his chest feigning hurt.
“Ow!” He pouted.
“That did not hurt! I barely hit you!” he side eyed me still pouting but the corners of his mouth started to break into a smile
“Over here committing spousal abuse.” He shook his head. I laughed so hard I snorted.
“We’re not married Sy!”
“You’re my work wife, it's the same damn thing” He chuckled. “Seriously, where do you wanna eat, I’m starving.”
“My god Logan,” I laughed. “Um fine, I haven’t tried that new sushi and ramen place yet!” I said. He almost slammed on the break.
“You haven’t?! That place is right up your alley, all trendy and shit. It’s real good too!”
“You think I’m trendy?” I raised an eyebrow. He looked over for a moment and caught my eye giving me a gentle smile.
“I think you deserve to be taken out to nice places.” And here I was blushing again.
“Sy,” I started but my phone buzzed in my lap distracting me, I wasn’t really sure what to say anyway. It was a group chat with the girls asking me what time we leave tonight. They were going to have a field day with this. And instead of just replying I decided to start a fire. I tapped my screen to open my camera and held it up to take a selfie “Smile, cowboy.” He chuckled.
“What are you doin over there, sugar?” He smirked but glanced over at the camera quickly so I could snap a quick photo.
“Lighting a match.” I smirked. He bit his lip and chuckled softly.
“You’re something else,” He spoke as we pulled into the restaurant. I quickly sent the picture to the group chat and slid my phone into my purse.
Sy was right. This place was incredible. And very trendy.
“God I can’t get over how good this place is!” I said for like the 4th time. Logan smiled.
“I told ya, Darlin,” The waitress came and brought out our bill and I reached for my purse. “Hey, No, I told you, I’m paying.” He said pulling out his wallet and handing his card to the waitress.
“Thank you Sy, I appreciate it,” He grinned.
“Anytime, you deserve it,” I blushed, “ you’re really saving my ass tonight.” I forced a smile, so that’s what this is about. I told the girls this was all just because he needed something.
“It’s no big deal Logan.” I said. I pulled my phone out and checked my messages. There were like 10 from the group chat now.
“OMG YOU'RE WITH HIM?!”
“You didn’t tell us you were getting dinner with him.”
“UNLESS THEIR NOT GETTING DINNER ;)”
“What else would they be….oh”
“Alayna you better not be fucking the football coach right now.”
“Leave her alone Hayley she can fuck him if she wants to BUT IF YOU DO I WANT DETAILS”
“ALAYNAAAAA”
“GIRLLLL ANSWER USSSSS”
“Seriously dude you can’t just send us a picture of you with your hunky football coach man crush and just disappear.”
“OMG THEY’RE TOTALLY FUCKING”
I held back a smile and shook my head.
“It is a big deal,” He said and grabbed my hand across the table. “I’m glad you’re gonna be there tonight.” I smiled but pulled my hand back.
“Sure, because you needed another chaperone.” I joked. His eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head catching my eye.
“Yeah, but I wanted it to be you, I like hangin out with you. And you’re really fun to watch in the stands. I didn’t know you could be so…aggressive.” He smirked.
“I’m just really passionate about football!” I argued. “And how do you know you like hanging out with me? We've barely seen each other outside of work.” I questioned.
“Well we should change that,” he said.
“Won’t your girlfriend get jealous?” I asked. I knew a lot about him but he never mentioned any relationship. I’d be stupid to think he wasn’t seeing someone. He laughed. God I loved that sound.
“Don’t have one sugar,” He said with a mischievous grin on his face.
“How?” It was my turn to be confused.
“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?” He retorted quickly.
“I … because…” I stuttered, unable to come up with an answer.
“Haven’t found the right guy yet huh?” He pauses, “guess that’s where I’m at, she just ain’t found me yet.” He smiled. Right then the waitress came back with his card. “Thanks honey,” He said, giving her his signature smile. He signed the receipt and stood from the table. “We oughta get going. Don’t wanna be late for the game!”
Sy drove us back to the school and parked his truck next to my car. “Oh no!” I sighed.
“What's wrong?” He asked.
“I was going to grab a sweatshirt when I went home and,” I opened my car, turning on the light to look in the back seat. “I don’t have an extra in my car.” I pouted.
“Is that all?” He chuckled. He reached into the back seat of his truck and pulled out a black hoodie. “Here. I always have an extra in the truck you can wear mine. Don’t want you to catch a cold.” I took it from him tentatively.
“Sy, this is your coach sweatshirt.” I said.
“One of ‘em yeah.” He smiled.
“I…okay,” I just shook my head and pulled the hoodie on. He bit his lip.
“Looks good on ya,” He smirked.
“Shut up,” I rolled my eyes. Before we could continue to tease each other the buses pulled up. And I could see some of the students' cars pulling into the student lot “We’d better head over there!” I said quickly. Logan nodded.
Pairing: Walter Marshall x Johanna “Jo” Collins (OFC)
Parts Masterlist
Series summary: Johanna “Jo” Collins and Walter Marshall have grown up in the same small town. Their parents are friends, and they’ve known each other for as long as they can remember. When both of them are back in town to visit, they meet again after many years. And although their lives have taken major turns in the meantime, some things may never change. Or will they?
Part summary: Most stories end before everyday life seizes hold of the lovebirds, and that’s probably a good thing. But maybe everyday life can inhere a magic of its own. And it can be worth a visit, after all.
Word count: ca. 4.8k
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, mention of sex, fluff that will make your teeth ache, angst, injuries, melancholy, alcohol, alcohol problem/addiction, therapy, concern about kids and parents.
Author's note: This is the ending of Walter and Jo’s story. I’m very grateful for everyone who read and enjoyed this piece I ripped from my heart, and I’m even more grateful for those who have left me lovely and encouraging feedback! It means the world. Thanks a million!! 💕
As always not beta’d, and English is not my native language, so you’d better be prepared for mistakes.
One year later
Jo
“Shoot!” I mumbled as a blob of caramel dripped onto the countertop.
I hastily grabbed a cloth, trying to wipe the mess away before I gave up. The whole kitchen seemed sticky by now, and the fastest way to clean it was probably to hose it down. Since it was doubtful that Dad would like that idea, some good old cleanser would have to do. But not before I had finished that cake.
As I put the last decorations on Dad’s birthday cake, my gaze lit through the window into the garden and on the people who had gathered around the large table. This year's birthday party was quieter and smaller than last year's. Just family and a few close friends - those who had supported Dad during the past year. It still made my heart ache that some people had turned their back on him as he had stopped going to the pub. But those who had done so were also the ones who had used to top up his glass when he had already enough. And those who had laughed and snapped a picture when he fell asleep on the bar instead of helping him get home safely. So it wasn’t a great loss in the end.
Outwardly, Dad had accepted it calmly and as inevitable, just like the therapy he was in. I knew it was hard for him to change old habits and his lifestyle and to dig out things from the past he needed to come to terms with. But against all odds, he was still wrestling through, and tears had brimmed his eyes as well as mine as he had shown me the golden chip he carried in his wallet yesterday - for ten months of sobriety.
He seemed to understand that he needed to do all this for himself, not for others, and yet I was grateful for the people in his life who had his back. There were people like Austin, Teresa, and Richard. And there was Nicole.
Dad had met her on one of the daily walks he took as his doctor had suggested more exercise as one component of therapy to treat his addiction and depression. I grinned as I remembered the slightly nervous tone in his voice on the phone last month as he had told me he was seeing someone. And his smile was both sheepish and proud, as he had introduced us earlier today. Maybe he feared I would be concerned about them dating, but that wasn’t true. I had to admit to myself that it was a bit weird to see him with someone other than my mom for the first time, but that didn’t change the fact that I was truly happy for him.
Nicole was about ten years younger than him, and she had moved to this place two years ago after the death of her husband. Her two daughters were still going to college, both in Boston. She had warm brown eyes and the most contagious laugh I had ever heard. And the way she and Dad exchanged glances, smiles, and little touches spoke for itself.
The two had set the table and provided drinks for the guests while I had hurried inside to put the finishing touches on the birthday cake. As I quickly wiped chocolate crumbs and caramel off the edge of the cake plate, I saw Dad fooling around with Nicole’s dog - a rescue Beagle named Skipper. Dad laughed, boisterous like a little boy, as Skipper darted from one person to the other with a stick in his muzzle, unable to decide who should throw it for him.
He finally chose Faye, dropping the stick at her feet, and he barely managed to sit as he wagged his tail so enthusiastically. Faye tried unsuccessfully to calm him down before she finally had mercy and threw the stick for him, giggling as Skipper sped off like a rocket.
I smiled as I watched her running after the dog, with her mane of dark curls fluttering in the wind.
Of all the changes the last year had brought for us, she was probably the one I had feared the most.
“That went pretty well, didn’t it?” Walt had asked with a happy smile as we walked to his car after Faye’s birthday party last year.
It had been one of those late summer days when the leaves began to color yellow, red, and orange, and you could sense the fall coming. When the mornings and evenings were already cool enough to need a jacket, and the afternoons were still warm enough to wear a T-shirt. Nevertheless, I was thankful for the warmth of his hand as he reached for mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. His touch instantly soothed my buzzing nerves a bit. And it was only then that I noticed the tension that had spread in my jaw and my shoulders during the past hours.
“I don’t know. Did it go well?” I asked with a careful laugh.
“Of course, it did,” Walt reassured me, darting a concerned sideglance at me. “It was quite a lot, hm?”
“It was a bit overwhelming,” I admitted.
I had not only met Faye for the first time, but also Angie - her mother - along with Angie’s boyfriend and his son and her whole side of the family: Faye's grandparents, uncle and aunts, and cousins. Unfortunately, the Marshalls hadn't been able to come, so Walt was the only familiar face for me at the party.
Faye had hogged him the second we had entered the house, which was perfectly understandable as it was her birthday, and they hadn’t seen each other in a while. And so I had been on my own, feeling a bit out of place at first. Luckily, everyone was very friendly, including me in their conversations and letting me lend a hand with clearing the table.
Faye wasn’t unfriendly towards me but cautious and maybe a little offish. I felt her, and I hadn’t expected it to be different. Nevertheless, a part of me worried if she would warm up to me someday. And if Walt would still love me if she wouldn’t.
I felt all the more relieved as I noticed her listening while I told her family a bit about myself. And when she giggled with everyone else as Charlie called her on her new phone to sing her a pretty loud and off-key Happy Birthday before he took the chance to entertain everyone with a few stories from our childhood. Of course, he called me Johanna Banana. And, of course, Faye had adapted that nickname months later. But contrary to Charlie, she didn’t say it to annoy me. It was rather a term of endearment, and she said it with her rogueish smile and a conspiratorial twinkle in her eye - her father’s daughter, for sure.
After all those months, we were still getting to know each other, but we had already discovered we had a lot in common. Like sewing, an undying love for Mexican food, and our concern about her father’s health and well-being. And we had also discovered things that set us apart. Like two very different body clocks, her preference for scary movies, which made fraidy cats like me want to hide under a blanket, and the question of what was the proper way to load a dishwasher.
And then, there were thousands of questions. I wasn’t her parent, but what role would I play in her life? Would I “only” be her father’s girlfriend? Or would I be more than that? A parental figure? Or something in between? Was I allowed to say something about her shoes, book bag, and the jacket she left lying on the floor every time she entered the house? Was it okay to buy her the book she had been telling me about, just because, or should I wait until Christmas? And could I allow her that trip to the mall with her friends while Walt was at work?
We had been wrestling our way through all those questions, and although there were still situations we hadn’t seen coming, it had become easier for all of us. And before I knew it, I realized that I missed her when she had to skip a visit. That I was wondering how she was doing. And that she was the only person who was allowed to call me Johanna Banana with impunity.
I gave a jerk as Walt’s arms sneaked around my waist from behind.
“Hey, sunshine,” he mumbled, gently pressing me against his body. “What are you doing here, hm?”
“I, umm, might have daydreamed a bit,” I admitted, feeling my cheeks grow hot at the thought that everyone was waiting for me outside. “Did I take so long? I defied the time.”
“You didn’t take too long. I just might have needed an excuse to make out with you in the kitchen.”
I laughed softly, snuggling into his arms as he planted a kiss on my temple. My laughter faded away as his index finger traced the neckline of my summer dress. And I leaned my head back against his chest, closing my eyes as he repeated this movement, and I allowed my body to react to him. My skin began to heat up and tingle under his touch, and he slid his finger under the white fabric with the pink floral pattern. I gasped for air as he traced the swell of my breasts, and then I waited, longed, with bated breath, for him to slide into my bra.
Both of us moved apart with a start when we heard hearty laughter from outside. A peek out the window showed it wasn’t directed at us, and before I knew it, Walt spun me around, moving us into a corner of the room where we couldn’t be seen. His lips found mine, and I sighed softly as his hand sneaked back into my dress, and his thumb purposefully circled my nipples. Goddammit, he knew all too well how to push my buttons and turn me into a moaning mess in no time! But before he could continue his mission, we heard more laughter from outside, and he pulled his hand back with a regretful hum. I nestled my head against his shoulder, snuggling up to him for another moment before we reluctantly moved apart.
“What?” I asked, smirking when I noticed his eyes wandering over my form.
And a smile spread on his face as he tore his gaze away.
“You look far too irresistible in that dress,” he muttered. “Okay, actually, you always do.”
“Especially when I’m standing in the kitchen like your good little housewife, huh?” I teased.
I dug my teeth into my bottom lip so as not to laugh as a sheepish expression crept upon his face. He had an undeniable soft spot for watching me cook and bake; I knew that much. I knew it because the scent wafting through the house never failed to draw him into the kitchen sooner or later. I harbored the suspicion that he liked to watch me from the hallway for a moment before he entered the room, engulfing me in his arms and making my hands stop whatever they were doing.
Sometimes, we just stood like that, gently swaying to a song playing on the radio. At other times, I soon found myself pressed down on the kitchen table, legs spread, my pants bunched around my ankles, and my bare breasts rubbing against the smooth wood while he fucked me relentlessly.
“Well, not the housewife thing. But I admit that seeing you in the kitchen… Ugh, does that make me a chauvinist asshole?” he asked, looking so guilty all of a sudden that I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“It doesn’t because you’re absolutely not a chauvinist asshole,” I reassured him with a grin. “It’s probably some primal needs thing. Food and reproduction, you know?”
“Maybe,” he laughed quietly before his expression became serious again. “I sometimes feel like an asshole if I work overtime once again, leaving you alone with all the chores,” he admitted. “That’s probably not what you were dreaming of.”
“Walt,“ I mumbled, shaking my head as I stepped towards him.
It was true that I did more chores than he did, and I also did most of the cooking. However, it wasn’t because he didn’t want to do his fair share but because he worked much more than an average employee. To be exact, nothing about his job was average, and yet he tried to do as much as he could. But it was also fair to say that it had taken us time and effort to find our way to align our jobs and lifestyles.
Although I had roughly known in advance what to expect, I hadn’t been prepared for what it would feel like. What it would feel like to sit alone at a table ready laid while dinner was standing on the stove. To delay plans multiple weekends in a row. And to sit on the couch waiting for him to come home, just like my mom had been waiting for my dad. But what looked as if history was repeating at a first glance was actually much different.
“All above, I was dreaming of someone who really cares about me. Of someone who loves me,” I said now, cradling his cheek in my hand.
And a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he clasped me in his arms.
“Well, you’ve found that someone,” he smiled, nudging my nose with his, and I knew what he said was true.
I knew it was true because he didn’t give rise to doubts. It wasn’t necessarily because of excessive tokens of love but rather because of all the small things he did and that meant so much.
It was the heart-shaped pebble he had found on a parking lot one day and brought home because he knew I was collecting them. Or a message he sent me on one of his rare breaks. It was the fact that he always asked me about my day and that he actually listened to my reply.
And it was the way he touched me. He had touched me gently and rough and greedy and languid and fleeting and as if he’d never let me go, and he had probably touched me in a thousand other different ways. And every single touch told me I had found what I had been dreaming of. It told me just as much as the words he mumbled against my lips.
“I love you so much, sunshine!”
The next day, Pirate Bay
Walter
I let my gaze roam the shore - the rocks and pebbles, the clear water, and the fallen tree. The wood was bleached and weathered, but it was still in the same spot as last year.
I wondered if this place would ever change, and at the same time, I hoped it never would. It was a place full of memories, solely good ones, and one of the most peaceful places I had ever known. And still, it would be none of that without the woman by my side.
She looked so beautiful, standing there next to me on the edge of the bay with her hair waving in the gentle breeze. She looked up at me when she noticed me staring, darting a radiant smile at me that made my heart skip a beat.
Both of us had been looking forward to coming here. The past days had been packed with family time, barbecues, and preparations for Brian’s birthday. It was really good to see everyone, but Jo and I hadn’t really had the chance to spend some time alone. And that was why we had used the opportunity to skedaddle with no hesitation when my mother had invited Faye for shopping and ice cream today.
I smiled as I thought about the message Faye had sent me from their shopping trip - a picture of a modern glass vase and the question if Jo could use a new one for the pebbles she was collecting. Her collection must comprise hundreds of stony hearts by now, big and small and in every color imaginable. Whenever family members or friends found a heart-shaped pebble somewhere, they picked it up for her. And I sometimes mused that it seemed like an attempt we made to return all the love and warmth she shed so generously on the people in her life - on those who had always been there and on those she had just met. And on those who became a part of her life without having asked for it. Like my daughter.
I knew Faye had been skeptical, and Jo had been worried at the beginning of our relationship. I had felt both of them, although I hadn’t shared their concerns - strangely optimistic by my standards. Maybe it was simply because I was an idiot in love, but maybe I had already known they would be good for each other. I was certain that both would roll their eyes at me, but I had ended up being right. And after all those months, it still was a joy to watch them get to know each other and deepen their bond.
Faye’s gesture spoke volumes, and I couldn’t wait to see Jo’s reaction. I knew she would beam with joy, and the vase would get an honored place in the living room. In our living room.
It must have seemed like we jumped the gun when she moved in with me after barely more than eight months. A few colleagues and Angie had told me that in no uncertain terms.
Whereas my first instinct was to shrug them all off as they didn’t really know us, Jo had convinced me to talk to Angie and ask her about her concerns. And then, all four of us gathered around the table in Angie’s house to talk. It turned out that Faye had been worried about her room and if she and I would spend less time together.
Jo had handled the conversation like a pro, open and empathic without belittling herself, although she had nervously clutched my hand in the car earlier. Communication was her strong point, and maybe we complemented each other, as she smoothened when I was too curt or speechless, or stubborn.
In the end, we all got to spend more time together now that Jo and I no longer had to commute between Minneapolis and the suburb where she had lived. And Faye’s room had undergone a makeover, just like the rest of the house.
If someone had told me a year ago that I would soon live in a house with a yellow couch, a smiley doormat, and colorful ceramic dinnerware, I would have called them a liar. Nevertheless, it looked good, a bit of a wild mix of our tastes, styles, and interests. And what had once been a place I had never spent much time at, besides in order to take a shower or sleep for an hour before heading back to work, looked like an actual home now. A place I loved coming home to.
I exhaled a deep breath every time I stepped into the house, closing the front door behind me. And I counted the seconds until I could finally hold her in my arms and feel her warm skin on mine and taste her sweet lips.
I always needed her close, as close as possible, while we spent the end of the day together.
On some days, close meant having her in my lap as we sat on the couch after dinner, talking and talking and talking. On other days there were no words left to be said, and we just stared at the TV together.
Sometimes none of us wanted to watch the news or anything at all, and all we wanted was to shut the world out. We often ran a bath on days like that, and I would never forget the first time she had pulled me into her arms in the warm water and how she had lathered my body and my hair. She had run her fingers over my scalp and over tense muscles, and all I could do was close my eyes while I melted away under her soothing touch.
Sometimes the sky was dark and oppressive, and the only way for me to escape and finally fall asleep was to lean my head against her chest, letting me be rocked to sleep by the gentle movements of her breathing while the sound of her heartbeat filled my ears and my mind.
And sometimes, I brought storm home with me, tense and churned up to the tips of my fingers, and I needed her to let it erupt, to ease the turmoil inside of me and make it fade away. Those were the days when I took her mercilessly, craving her submission, craving to see her take everything I gave her until she was swollen and trembling and overstimulated, yet whimpering and pleading for more, her eyes bright with tears and unwavering love and trust.
She was my sunshine, gently dragging me out of the darkness with her light and her warmth. And nonetheless, it had taken her a while to see that she would always be allowed to be more than that. That she was allowed to struggle, to have bad days, and to need me to take care of her. That it wouldn’t make me love her any less. That she would never be a burden to me.
And I remembered the day during the first weeks of our relationship when I had driven almost two hours to see her after one hell of a day at work.
I knew something was wrong the minute I entered her apartment. She tried her best to smile and to make me feel comfortable, but she seemed distracted and stirred up as we ate the pasta dish she had made for dinner.
As she went to the kitchen to take the chocolate souffle out of the oven, I heard a shriek followed by the sound of something shattering on the floor. As I hurried into the kitchen, I found her kneeling on the tiles amidst shards, crumbs, and molten chocolate, as she hastily tried to clean up the mess with shaking hands.
She struggled to retain her composure, her chin trembling as she tried hard to fight back her tears, just like the brave little girl she had once been. My attempts to soothe her only seemed to make her more agitated as she stammered something about how sorry she was and how I already had enough on my plate. But when I discovered the burn blister forming on her palm, I had heard and seen enough.
I scooped her up and took her to the bathroom to take care of her wound. She winced in pain as I cleaned and bound her hand up, and when I carefully ran my hand along her back, she broke.
We sat on the floor of the small bathroom, and I held her in my arms as long-suppressed tears ran down her face and her body shook with heartbreaking sobs. I planted kisses on her hair, mumbling sweet nothings, and little by little, her tears dried up. And only a few sniffles interrupted her quiet voice as she haltingly told me what had happened.
Her dad would have had his first appointment at the addiction clinic that day. Nevertheless, he had chosen to go to the pub the night before. For ‘one last drink,’ as he had said. That one last drink had resulted in a drunken stupor, a fall down the stairs, as well as a broken arm, and a cut on his forehead. He was still at the hospital for observation, and someone from the addiction clinic would come to see him and talk about the next steps the next day.
There was nothing I could have done for him at that point, and so I focused solely on the woman in my arms.
Jo’s day must have been a living hell, and I saw she had no energy left. I washed the traces of chocolate off her skin before I helped her change into her PJs and carried her to her bed. I found some painkillers in the mirror cabinet and encouraged her to take them, as her hand must have hurt like hell.
When I returned from cleaning up the kitchen, she was still awake, silently looking at me with puffy eyes. I knew she wouldn’t ask me to stay as I was tired and had to work the next day. But nothing and no one could have chased me from her side, and her eyes shone with thankfulness as I took off my jeans and t-shirt and crawled under the covers.
She melted into my arms, and my lips found hers as if it had never been any different. The taste of her tears tugged at my heartstrings, and I involuntarily pulled her closer, deepening the kiss as if that could dispel her sadness, her anger, her disappointment, and her worries.
As a breath hitched in her throat, I gently broke away, letting my lips wander down her throat while she began to pant and squirm under me.
“May I?” I whispered as I rucked up her T-shirt.
And “May I?” I whispered again shortly afterward as I abandoned her puffy nipples to kiss my way down her belly, licking a stripe from her belly button down to the hem of her pants.
Again she whispered her consent, just to gasp for air a second later when I yanked off her pants. Her gasps turned into soft moans when I gently licked along her nether lips before I dipped into her dripping slit. And her uninjured hand clung to my hair as I ate her out. As her thighs began to quiver, and she rocked against my tongue, her bound-up hand searched for mine, and our fingertips entangled as she came hard on my mouth for the first time that night.
I thought about all that as she sat between my legs, her back against my chest, and we looked at the lake. A gust of wind blew under the blanket I had wrapped around us, and I quickly tugged it back in place. Although the sky had clouded up and the wind and the water were actually too cool to swim, none of us had been able to resist the temptation or, rather, the challenge to go for a quick swim. And afterward, I had taken my sweet time to thoroughly unfreeze my shivering sunshine.
Now she was nice and warm, snuggling up to me, and a smile tugged at my lips as I pressed a kiss to her temple.
“What?” she asked softly, turning her head to look at me.
Of course, she had noticed something was floating around in my head. She always did.
“It doesn’t feel like a year,” I finally mumbled, pensively shaking my head.
“Well, that’s because it has been more than a year. Actually, it has been half of a lifetime, hasn’t it?” she said with her sweet smile that would probably never fail to send my heart racing. Not even after fifty years.
All of a sudden, a wild tingle shot to the pit of my stomach, and a breath caught in my throat. And for a moment, my lips moved without a sound coming out.
An inquiring expression drifted across her features, but before she could say something, I finally found my voice again.
“I want to make this a lifetime,” I croaked out. “I’ve already loved you for my whole life, Jo. And I will love you for the rest of my life.”
For a moment or two, she just looked at me. And then, tears filled her beautiful eyes, and her lips trembled ever-so-slightly as they curled into a stunning smile.
“Are you… Are asking me if…,” she stammered breathlessly, and maybe my voice wobbled a bit as I nodded, completing her words.
“Will you marry me, sunshine?”
The thought had already been on my mind for a few weeks. I hadn't bought a ring yet, but this moment and the shaky yes she breathed against my lips felt perfect and unbelievably right. It felt like all of this was meant to be - like we were meant to be.
Just like it had felt when our paths had brought us back to this place and back to each other.
Pairing: Captain Syverson (Caleb) x Mackenzie Williams (OFC)
Series Summary: Sometimes, it can take a while to find a place where you belong - especially if the place and the people you once called home no longer exist. But chances are, you’ll stumble across new places and people along your way. And maybe you will arrive after all.
Warnings: This series will contain angst, smut and fluff. Detailed warnings will be added to the single chapters.
A/N: Continuing the trend of uploading old work….this was part of a story I wrote almost two years ago. It no longer has much of a place in that story anymore, but I hate wasting stuff so I’ve repurposed it.
What is No Morals? It’s a continuing series of episodic parts centred around Sy, after getting out of the army. It’s gonna contain graphic spice here and there as the timeline progresses.
A/N: I’m gonna aim to post an episode once a month. I might post more than one a month but I don’t want to commit to anything and disappoint anyone.
Summary: Sy struggles with life post-military.
Word count: 2k
Warning: Swearing, violence, smidge of smutty, typo’s
Pairing: Captain Syverson x an ofc yet to make an appearance
H'OKAY it's about dang time I did one of these. Instead of links to individual chapters, there will be links to the story tag as a whole, seeing as I tag each story with their respective titles. Go to the tag, find all the chapters. Easy peasy. I will, however, be organizing them by character featured. I will only have my Henry Cavill character fics on here because lbrh, that's all everyone cares about and is here for. If the story isn't featured here, it's being my brain went *fart noises* on it and gave up....sorry if one you like isn't on here, I truly am, but I can't control this fucker.
Captain Syverson
Chimera (completed)
Walter Marshall
Control (on-going...hopefully)
Shades (on-going definitely)
August Walker
Apostles (ongoing definitely)
Clark Kent/Superman
Public Relations (on-going definitely)
Geralt of Rivia
Drabbles (to be added to over time)
Mike from Hellraiser: Hellworld
Paved with Good Intentions (complete, 1 chapter drabble)
It had been an easy search to find her home address, and he pulled up to the house out in the suburbs, seeing a car outside that he assumed was hers as it had a sticker of the bar’s logo in the back window. Heading up to the front door, he leaned to the side slightly trying to see into the front window but the curtains were drawn closed, blocking the view of the inside.
Raising his hand, he knocked solidly and there was a moment of silence before he heard movement within, his hand going to the gun clipped to his waist as the locks clicked back. The front door opened slowly and he looked at Faith as she opened the door only wide enough so she could look out at him. They didn’t say anything for a long moment, staring at each other before she stepped aside, letting him in without a word and closing the door behind him.
Walter glanced around the dark house briefly before turning around and advancing on her quickly, pushing her against the door, his hand going to her stomach under her shirt, finding the skin whole with no trace that she had been injured at all. Holding her waist, his thumb moved over where a bullet hole should have been, not even finding a scar.
“Explain.” He said, pulling his hand away and she sighed.
“It’s complicated.” Faith said.
“Do it anyway.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Start with this: did you kill that guy?” There was a pause before she nodded, not looking at him. “Fuck. How?”
“I drained him.”
“He didn’t have any injuries, nothing that would have bled him out anyway.”
“I know how to cover my tracks.”
“You’ve done this before.” He made it a statement, not a question, but the silence was his answer. “Why?”
“I was injured, losing a lot of blood. I needed to heal.” She said as if it was the easiest thing in the world. “You can’t arrest me for it.”
“The fuck I can’t. You killed someone, more than one person I’m guessing. You’re a goddamn murderer.”
“You think I wanted to?” She asked, looking up at him. “You think I enjoyed taking that man’s life?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think.”
“Let me give you your explanation first, and if you still think you should take me in, I won’t stop you.” She said and he stared down at her for a long moment before nodding. "You should sit down."
"I'll stand." He said and she sighed.
"Suit yourself, but I'm going to sit down." Faith said and went into the living room, sitting down on the couch heavily. "Let me start off by saying that "Faith Culver" isn't my real name, not really."
"What is your real name?"
"Faith Callahan." She said, "I was born in Dublin, Ireland. April 15th, 1785."
"What." Walter said evenly, "You expect me to believe you're over two hundred years old?"
"I expect you to listen." She said, "Bookcase, third shelf, there's a picture album. If you would be so kind." He paused but went over to the bookcase against the wall, finding the album and pulling it from the rest of the books. "Third page." He opened it to the third page and was immediately drawn to the sepia-toned photo. It was Faith, dressed in period clothing, looking exactly as she did now. "You can take it out if you want." He did, carefully turning it over and seeing the typing on the back.
Name: Callahan, Faith
Age: Thirty-two
Date of Birth: April 15th, 1869
Country of Origin: Ireland
Ellis Island Immigrant Processing, 1901
"What the hell is this?" He asked, looking up at her from it.
"Exactly what it says." She said, "My Ellis Island intake photo. I was a few decades over a hundred when it was taken, so I fibbed on my birth date a little. With the number of people coming through the island on a daily basis, they didn't exactly ask for a birth certificate. Keep flipping through, start with the first page if you want." Sliding the photo back in the pocket, he flipped back to the first page, the first photo being that of Faith and a man both dressed in modest finery, but she looked younger in this one. "Photos were a luxury back then, but we managed to get one taken for our wedding." Taking the photo from the sleeve, he flipped it over, seeing the neat cursive on the back.
Mr. and Mrs. Sean Callahan
July 12th, 1810
"I was twenty-five when I married Sean." She said and snorted in amusement. "Almost a spinster at that age." Putting the photo back, he flipped through the album, seeing pictures of all types of her throughout the years. He stopped at one of what looked like a festival of some kind, holding it up and giving her a questioning look. She was topless in it and covered in mud, a wide smile on her face as she sat on the broad shoulders of an equally mud-covered man. "Woodstock, 1969. Don't know why I kept that one, honestly, bit embarrassing."
"Who's the guy?" Walter asked.
"Someone I met there." She said with a shrug, "I don't even remember his name anymore." He continued flipping through the photos, the clothing and styles getting progressively more current until he stopped at the last one. It was the photo that was taken last night, of him and her and the waitresses of the bar, large genuine smiles on their faces. "Printed it out this morning. I was planning on hanging up another copy behind the booth."
"What the hell are you?" Walter asked, closing the album and sliding it back on the shelf.
"I'm a vampire." She said simply and he blinked at her.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me correctly." Faith said, "A vampire. Sounds a bit silly, saying it out loud, but it's the truth."
"Prove it." He said and it was her turn to blink at him.
"How?" She asked and he shrugged.
"Turn into a bat."
"I can't do that. None of my kind can that I'm aware of." She said, "You ever watch the show True Blood?" He shook his head, "Read the books it's based on?" Another shake. "Charlaine Harris got it pretty close with how the fangs work. They sit up against the roof of my mouth and come down like a snake's." She opened her mouth, pulling her lips back from her teeth and there was a subtle click as fangs dropped down behind her canines, extending them significantly. She kept them down a beat before they went back up and she clicked her tongue against her teeth, looking away from him. "Proof enough?"
"Son of a bitch." Walter said.
"I had suggested you sit down." Faith said with a shrug.
"Your husband, Sean," Walter said, "How did he die?"
"I didn't kill him."
"It's not what I asked."
"It's what you meant." She said, “Isn’t it, Detective? You want to know if I killed him like I killed that man last night. No, I didn’t. I loved Sean, he was my husband and I would have done anything for him.”
“How did he die?” Walter repeated and there was silence. “Faith.”
“It’s not something I like to talk about.” She said, “Maybe if we had gone anywhere, I would have eventually told you, told you everything, but now…” Going over to the couch, he stood in front of her, looking down at her with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Faith.” Bending slightly, he forced her to look into his eyes with his fingers at her chin. “How.”
“We were attacked.” She said, “I survived, he didn’t. If you call what I was turned into “surviving”.”
“You were attacked by another…”
“Yes.” She said, “He killed Sean and Turned me.”
“Why?”
“Fuck if I know.” She said, “I never got an explanation.” With a sigh, he let go of her chin, turning and sitting next to her on the couch, noticing how she shrank away from him a little.
“What happened next?”
“I spent the first couple of years on my own before I was finally found by others like me.”
“They helped you.”
“No, they didn’t help me.” She said, “They helped themselves.”
“Fuck.” He said, scrubbing his fingers through his hair.
“I did eventually find others that weren’t complete psychopaths, that was a breath of fresh air. They did help me.” She said, “Was with them fifty…sixty years? Until I came over on the boat.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was a few lifetimes ago, Walter, I’ve processed and moved past it.” Faith said, “So what happens now? You still going to take me into the station? Bring me up on charges?”
“No.” Walter said, “I’m not.”
“Good call.”
“Why do you wear a bullet around your neck?” He had a feeling what the answer was, but he wanted her to say it.
“This ol’ thing?” She asked, picking up off her shirt and letting it hang by a bit of cord. “It’s silver. I get one made every twenty years or so, keeps them fresh and viable. Just in case it gets to be too much.”
“You have others?”
“Only need one.” She said with a shake of her head, “The gun is in a case under my bed.”
“Where?” He asked, standing from the couch.
“Down the hall, to your left.” She said and he walked away from her, moving through the house and into her bedroom, looking around briefly at the computer set up on a desk against the wall and the messy bed covers. Kneeling by the bed, he looked under it and saw the case, pulling it out and opening it up, seeing the .357 Magnum snub-nosed revolver inside. Zipping the case closed again, he got up and went back into the living room, seeing her still on the couch.
“Give me the bullet.” He said, holding out his hand and she looked up at him. “Now, Faith.”
“Why?” She asked, “You were all set and ready to arrest me when you got here. Why the sudden interest in my well-being?”
“Because you asked for forgiveness.” Walter said, “Give me the bullet.” There was a long moment where she didn’t move, just continued to stare up at him before she stood, pulling the cord from around her neck and dropping the bullet into his palm. He tucked it into his jeans pocket before he pulled her into his arms, holding her against his chest. He caught the slight tremors that ran through her body as he held her before her arms came around him, her hands fisting in his sweater at his back. “I’ll be back later.”
Pairing: Clark Kent/Superman x Charlotte Danvers (OFC)
WC 2363
Warnings: None
@kingliam2019 , @greensleeves888
two in one day? whuuuuuuuut. lemme know if you want to be tagged
The next few days passed uneventfully, Clark sending her that list of places and they settled on a diner he liked to frequent in downtown Metropolis. She was sitting at her desk going through emails when she got the notification of another one coming in from Melissa and she opened it up.
“It’s good.” She had prefaced the link and Charlotte clicked it, bringing up the Daily Planet website and the article attached.
Charlotte Danvers: Only human.
By Clark Kent
By now everyone has heard about what happened at Danvers Tower more than a week ago, its details, both sordid and otherwise splashed over headlines in print and online. Sadly, most publications seemed to focus on the sensational aspects, rather than the full truth. They led to the incident in question, yes, but one wrong decision in her personal life does not justify someone trying to end that life. The press has lost sight of this and Ms. Danvers was raked over the coals as it were, metaphorical stones thrown at her in an effort to somehow diminish the fact that someone she honestly cared about tried to take her life, betraying her trust in the worst way imaginable. How does the old adage go? Those in glass houses? None of us are above reproach. None of us can honestly say we have led a life free of regret or questionable decisions. Charlotte Danvers is a victim in this situation, and to continue to make her so instead of standing by her denotes a severe lack of character and integrity.
I spent the better part of a day with Charlotte Danvers, and the woman I spoke to was not the amoral seductress others have made her out to be. She was kind, warm, and inviting. She spoke with me honestly and candidly on a wide array of topics. Those who worked directly for and with her had nothing but good things to say about her. A lot of terrible things have been said about Charlotte Danvers in the days prior, but let’s try to focus on the positives, shall we? Let’s talk about the woman herself outside of what the other press would have you believe about her.
Charlotte found herself smiling as she read the rest of the article. He was complimentary, but not overly so. He didn’t put her on a pedestal, nor did he attempt to pull her down. He was honest, completely and truly, and she admired that. She read the article a couple more times before printing it out and making a note to have it framed as she did with most articles that were written about her that she actually liked. Going into her phone, she pulled up their text message thread and typed in a message, sending it to him.
Thank you
His response a short while later of a simple heart emoji made her smile again and she reached over, pressing a button on her desk phone.
“Hey, Melissa? Who owns the Daily Planet?” She asked.
“Uhh…Bruce Wayne, I believe, but let me double-check.” Melissa said and a small, somewhat mischievous grin pulled at her lips.
“Please do.” She said and went back to her emails before her phone came to life next to her.
“Yep, Bruce Wayne owns The Daily Planet as a subsidiary of Wayne Enterprises.”
“So he doesn’t actually personally own it.”
“Not that I’ve found.” Melissa said. “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?”
“Annoy Bruce Wayne and get into the communications business in one fell swoop?” She asked, “Have Acquisitions reach out to them about passing the reins and see if they can put together an offer for me to review.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Melissa said, “Oh, I’m ordering from the Greek place down the street for lunch, you want anything?”
“Chicken shawarma rice bowl, extra tzatziki?”
“You got it, I’ll let you know when it’s here.”
“You want me to foot the bill?”
“Nah, you’re good, Charlie. It’s just the two of us, I got it.” Melissa said.
“Thanks, Mel.” Charlotte said, “Let me know what Acquisitions says.”
“You’ll know as soon as I do.” Melissa said and the line went dead. Picking up her cell phone again, she sent Clark a winky face emoji, getting question marks in return.
I have something in the works. You’ll know if it pans out.
Why am I scared all of a sudden?
That made her laugh.
You’re fine, nothing will change. Much. Maybe.
That doesn’t make me feel better.
It’s still in its infancy, babe. Like I said, you’ll know if it pans out.
Babe?
Shit, she hadn’t meant to put that and it was way too soon for pet names.
So tell me about this diner.
He allowed her to switch topics like a champ and they texted off and on for the rest of the day, making plans to have them meet at her place and they would head into the city together. He didn’t have a car (of course), so she told him that she would have someone pick him up if he didn’t want to use his own personal method. Her house backed up against a forested area far outside the city limits, so he had a private landing zone away from prying eyes if he so chose. In the end, he agreed to have someone swing by to get him and gave her his address. They settled on a time and she let her driving company know that they would be sending someone out to get him at around 7 pm and bring him to her residence, giving them his contact information so they could notify him when they were on their way and when they arrived.
She worked on various things until about 5 when she decided to call it quits for the day, shutting down her computer and letting Melissa know that she was leaving so she could have someone come around front. It’s not that Charlotte couldn’t drive herself to and from work, it was just easier this way and she didn’t have to think about parking. Packing up her things, she left the building, bidding those she passed a good night, and got into the car waiting out front, thinking about what she was going to wear. Everything that immediately came to mind was far too fancy for the setting so she ran through what casual clothes she had hanging up, deciding at last on a simple pair of jeans, a hoodie, and sneakers.
She wished the driver goodnight as they pulled up in front of her house and she got out, heading inside and starting to get ready. The work makeup would need to come off and she debated on how extensive she wanted to get with it and if she wanted to subject him to the sight of her without makeup so soon. Best not to give the man nightmares. Foundation, powder, eyeliner, mascara, and lightly tinted lip gloss it was.
She was just putting the finishing touches on her hair, deciding to just pull it back into a simple bun at the back of her head when she heard the doorbell ring through the sound system. Heading downstairs, she opened the front door, smiling as she saw him standing on her doorstep, getting a smile in return. He had also changed out of his work clothes, opting for a button-up flannel shirt, jeans, and boots, the top couple buttons of the shirt undone and showing a rather attractive view of chest hair, the sleeves rolled up his forearms.
“Come on in!” She said and stepped aside to let him in, watching as he looked around and snorted in amusement at his whistle.
“Wow, this place is big.” He said, looking up at the vaulted ceilings and at the sweeping staircase that was branched off at the top in different directions.
“A bit too big, sometimes.” Charlotte said with a shrug, “But it gives a good first impression. Want the tour before we head out?”
“Absolutely.” Clark said and she started showing him around, working from top to bottom, but only vaguely pointing at where her bedroom was located and not actually showing him it, lest he got the wrong impression on a first date. He was especially impressed with her library and study, along with the full bar in the home theater.
“And here, right off the garage, is the indoor pool and jacuzzi.” She said as they walked into the room and he looked around, “The water of the pool is heated so it’s good year-round.”
“Big windows.” He said, noticing the large floor-to-ceiling windows that made up one exterior wall facing the forest.
“They frost over like the ones in my office if I want some privacy.” She said and he nodded.
“I meant to ask.” Clark said and she gave him a questioning look. “World of Warcraft?” There was a moment of confusion before she remembered and she looked down at the stitching on the front of her hoodie briefly.
“I like to play it in my downtime.” She said, “What little I actually have, and BlizzCon is always fun.”
“Never played it and never been.” Clark said with a small, amused smile.
“For the Horde.” She said and he snorted, understanding the reference even though he didn’t play the game. “And through here, is my pride and joy.” He followed her as they left the pool area, heading into the garage and he stopped as she turned on the overhead lights, his jaw dropping slightly at the sight of the cars she had. There wasn’t a modern sports or high-end luxury car among them, all classics and mostly muscle cars, but there were a couple of vintage sports cars as well.
“Oh my god.”
“Yeah.” She said, a smile in her voice and she went past him, going up to one and running her fingertips up the gleaming black hood lightly. “This one is my favorite, my baby. 1967 Pontiac GTO with a V8 engine, growls like a beast and has enough power to push you back in your seat and then some. She was the first one I collected and restored.”
“You restored her yourself?” He asked, standing at the front of the car and she nodded with a sound.
“You should have seen her when I found her, rusting away in a junkyard, poor thing. The guy sold her to me for next to nothing, probably thinking I was going to just strip her down for usable parts. It wasn’t an easy restoration by any means, the chassis needed replacing, and the engine was completely shot. Lots of late nights, but I got her back to fighting weight and prom pretty.”
“She’s gorgeous. What about this one?” He asked, moving off to a cherry red convertible with bold black lines down the hood.
“1970 Chevelle SS 454 LS6.” She said, “Only about twenty were ever produced. I only drive her on special occasions, but I do make sure to drive her. Beauty like her doesn’t deserve to be put on a shelf and never taken out.”
“My dad would have loved to see these.” Clark said.
“I’d love to show him one day.” Charlotte said with a smile and he looked down, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets.
“He died some years back,” Clark said, “When a twister ripped through my hometown.”
“I’m sorry.” She said, “I didn’t know.”
“I could have saved him, but he…” Clark stopped, sniffing slightly. “He stopped me. He didn’t want me to out myself just for the sake of him.”
“He was trying to protect you.” Charlotte said and he nodded, looking at her as she stood in front of him, a sympathetic smile on her face. “You know what? Forget the diner, let’s order a pizza instead.”
“You sure?” Clark asked and she nodded.
“Yeah, I have a rather extensive movie collection, if I do say so myself. How about you pick one out and we watch it in the theater?” She suggested, “But before we do that. How would you, my good Sir, like to take one of the cars out for a spin around the neighborhood?”
“Oh, I couldn’t…I couldn’t possibly…”
“I insist. Whichever one you want.” She said, “I know it’s blasphemy, but they’re all automatic transmissions, made sure of it myself. Was never comfortable with manual, personally.”
“Are you sure? Absolutely sure you want me behind the wheel of one of your babies?”
“Clark, you have literal superhuman reflexes. I’m not worried about you crashing one of my cars.” She said and he looked over her collection.
“I would love to.” He said and she gave a sweeping gesture.
“Pick one out.” She said and he walked down the row before stopping at one. It was a deep sapphire blue with white racing stripes and like the Chevelle, was also a convertible.
“This one.”
“The 1965 Shelby Cobra, only about a thousand were ever produced.” She said, “Excellent choice, Sir, let me get that key for you.” She went over to a box on the wall, pressing her thumb onto the scanner and opening it as it unlocked, looking through the keys hanging on hooks inside before pulling one out. He caught it as she tossed it to him and he opened the driver’s side door, getting into it and settling down behind the wheel, putting the seat belt on. She got in on the passenger's side and put on her own belt and he hesitated a moment before sliding the key into the ignition and turning it. The engine came to life with a growl and settled into a purr and he groaned, dropping his head onto the steering wheel and making her laugh. Opening the glove box, she pulled out a remote and pressed the button, the garage doors sliding back like aircraft hangar doors. The cars were all parked at an angle facing the now open door so all he had to do was put his foot on the gas and drive out, heading up the ramp and turning down onto the street, the doors closing behind them.
Pairing: Clark Kent/Superman x Charlotte Danvers (OFC)
WC 1184
Warnings: None
@kingliam2019 , @greensleeves888
lemme know if anyone else wants to be tagged
Clark stayed even after completing his interview with her and she ended up ordering them a late lunch, telling Melissa to order something for herself as well. They talked more in-depth about her charity work, having touched on her philanthropy in the interview. He stated early on that it would not be the hit piece that everyone else was writing and instead would focus on the positives about her. She was human, and a lapse in judgment did not make her a bad person. Charlotte was charming and funny, making him laugh several times as they talked and he found himself wanting to know even more about her.
Needing something to show for his extra time there, she gave him permission to talk to some of her immediate staff, telling him to let them know that she said it was okay to talk about her candidly and honestly. She needn't have worried. Everyone he talked to had nothing but glowing things to say about her. She was generous, both with her time if they needed it, and with their holiday bonuses. She encouraged people to work hard and only hired those who did the same as supervisors but encouraged them positively. If mistakes were made, a small informal meeting was called based on the severity and the problem was addressed honestly, with a solution formed on how to fix it and how to make sure it didn't happen again. She didn't punish people for honest mistakes, but she did expect people to own up to them when they were made. Tough, but fair, was the term he heard most often.
If an emergency arose that called for someone to take time off immediately, they were allowed to do so, no questions asked. Melissa had nearly cried when he spoke to her, telling him about the time her mother was sick and she needed to take care of her. Charlotte not only gave her the time off she needed but put in extra paid time off when it looked like she was going to go past her given PTO allotment. Then, she even went so far as to pay off the exorbitant hospital bills that had been racked up in full. They had been paid anonymously, but Melissa knew it was her, or at least heavily suspected it. Charlotte cared for those who worked for her directly, honestly, and earnestly.
When it came to her business dealings, Clark knew she had a bit of a reputation for being ruthless. She took no prisoners when it came to negotiations of contracts, either private or government. When new companies were acquired and absorbed into Danvers Incorporated, she kept anyone who wanted to stay at their current salary and gave those who wanted to leave generous severance packages as well as referrals and references to other companies. She didn't leave anyone destitute. Online reviews from employees working at the companies under the Danvers umbrella were very complimentary, most saying that it was one of, if not the best place they've ever worked.
At the end of the day, and he was done talking to people, Clark found himself admiring her. She was honestly one of the good ones, trying to make her own corner of the world a better place for herself and those in it.
"Productive day?" She asked as they sat back down on the couch and he nodded.
"Very." Clark said, "I learned a lot about you and your company. I think I've got a pretty good story here, something to drown out all those trying to drag you down."
"Well, however it turns out, I appreciate the effort." Charlotte said, giving him a small smile.
"Listen, I'm going to be busy the next few days getting this all organized," Clark said, "But after that, once the article is published, would you like to maybe…I don't know, grab lunch sometime? Or dinner?"
"Are you asking professionally or personally?" Charlotte asked, regarding him softly.
"Personally." Clark said and she gave him a gentle smile.
"I'd like that." She said, "How about dinner? Wherever you would like to go."
"My favorite haunts probably aren't as fancy as what you're used to, honestly." Clark said.
"Nothing wrong with pizza or good Chinese takeout." Charlotte said, "How about this? We exchange numbers and you send me a list of your favorite places and we'll go from there. I'm sure we'll be able to find something."
"Yeah, that sounds good." He said, "Sounds like a solid plan." They exchanged numbers and he sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I should probably get going. As much as I’ve enjoyed my time here, I have an article to organize. Thank you, Charlie.”
“No problem at all.” Charlotte said, “This was the most enjoyable one by far. Want me to walk you out?”
“I remember the way and I’ve taken up more than my allotted time.” Clark said and she stood as he did, watching him grab his overcoat that he had thrown over the arm of the couch and put it on, adjusting his glasses that he had put back on while talking with her staff.
“Hmm.” She said and he gave her a questioning look.
“What?”
“I should have my tailor reach out to you.” She said, “Get you into something more deserving of those shoulders.”
“I like my clothes, thank you.” He said with a smile, “Besides, I wear my suit underneath it and anything too…tailored would be too constrictive.”
“Where do you keep the cape?” She asked, “Is it like, jammed in there or something?”
“It’s detachable and folded up in my bag.” Clark said.
“Ever thought about going without it? It seems like a safety hazard.” She said, “Not to mention it would be quicker when switching personas if you don’t have to fiddle with it every time.”
“Not really. It’s kind of my maintained image.” He said and she shrugged with a small sound.
“Whatever works for you.” She said and grabbed the remote, turning the door and walls clear again before going to him, reaching out to hold his arms gently. “Clark Kent of the Daily Planet, it was wonderful speaking with you.”
“It was a pleasure speaking to you as well, Ms. Danvers.” Clark said, “I’ll let you know when the article is about to be released and send you that list.”
“Please do.” She said and he hesitated a moment before leaning in, pressing a light kiss to her cheek and catching the small, bashful smile on her face as he pulled away. Charlotte watched as he left her office, giving a farewell wave to Melissa as he went past and Melissa looked at her with a shrewd grin, tapping her cheek, letting her know she had seen his parting gesture. Charlotte made a zip-it gesture across her lips, and Melissa gave her a thumbs up, mouthing the word “Nice”. Charlotte just rolled her eyes with a smile, going back to sitting behind her desk and diving back into work and emails.
