#( I still have that good boy prompt that I’m gonna reply to especially for you God )

[hogans-heroes]

Drabble prompt:

Combining two prompts of Gale’s childhood and Gale flinching from Bucky because he smells like alcohol.

****

Bucky is several whiskeys and several more stories into the wee hours of the morning when he noticed Gale was curled up in a chair that was wedged in the corner, fast asleep despite the party that showed no signs of slowing down. One leg was pulled up into the seat and his head and arms were pillowed against the wall and chairback in such a way as to appear the corner had been chosen especially for this purpose. Even in sleep he looked far from peaceful, and the whispered fragments Gale had once told of his childhood trickled through Bucky’s mind. 

I’m scared of the dark. Or actually, being left alone in the dark

Dad would be out all hours of the night, all nights of the week. Gambling, drinking, getting in fights. Parties till dawn.

I can sleep anywhere, through any noise, it’s a good skill to have.

Bucky’s stomach turned, guilt blooming in his chest, and set his drink down.

“I’ll see you later fellas,” he said to no one in particular, and pushed his way through the ground to Gale’s side. He crouched down and shook the boy’s shoulder.

“Hey, Buck let’s–”

Whatever he was going to say was cut off by a violent flinch from Gale, shoving himself backwards and covering his head, and Bucky’s heart sank straight to the floor. He snatched his hands back and froze, holding his breath while Gale blinked at him with wide, bleary eyes until they focused and softened in recognition. 

“Bucky?” 

Bucky swallowed. “Yeah, it’s me. Ready to go?”

Gale nodded, rubbing his eyes like a toddler, and Bucky ached again. He helped Gale stand and ushered him out of the mess hall, grabbing a coffee on the way out. Even if it kept him up all night, it would help get rid of the smell of alcohol and the tense line of Gale’s shoulders as they walked back to their room, Bucky’s mind still racing.

Little Gale spent most nights being jolted out of sleep, shoved and dragged places, struck if he did something wrong or didn’t move fast enough. One time Gale was half asleep when he heard the betting grow louder, his dad running out of valuable things to wager. 

‘How ‘bout the kid?’ someone crowed. His dad laughed it off but for a second Gale had gone cold with terror. His dad had traded their car and some of their furniture before, did he really need a kid? 

Gale stumbled while stepping over the door frame, but caught himself before Bucky could help, then huffed a laugh and grinned sleepily. 

“M’tired,” he drawled, and the guilt in Buck’s stomach grew heavier. 

“We won’t stay out so late anymore,” he replied, but Gale shook his head.

“It’s alright, I know you like to party.”

“I like being with you more.” Never going to be the cause of that look again if I have anything to say, his mind screamed, but Gale only smiled up at him as he began to undress. He must have seen something in Bucky’s expression because he paused, frowning, and opened his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky rasped before he could say anything. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Gale shook his head. “Not your fault,” he said, pulling his pajama shirt over his head. “I was just startled when I woke up, smelled the alcohol, and…I don’t know. Instinct I guess.”

Bucky nodded. It made sense but didn’t do much to make him feel better. He looked down at himself, wondering if he still smelled of whisky.

“M’ gonna take a shower,” he murmured. 

Gale frowned again and moved closer, reaching out, but Bucky shook his head and took a step back. Gale’s face fell.

“John.”

Gale gripped Bucky’s arm, pulling him to his chest and wrapping his arms around him, but Bucky still tried to resist. He still smelled of alcohol, and he would die before he caused Gale any more suffering. 

“It’s ok and I mean it,” Gale murmured into Bucky’s neck. “I know you’d never hurt me. It’s not you I’m afraid of, ok? You’re the one who makes me feel safe.”

Pain shot through Bucky at the confirmation that Gale was afraid of something, someone, and he could only nod, not trusting his voice. Gale pressed a kiss to his shoulder and Bucky gave in, melting into the touch and wrapping his arms tight around Gale. He didn’t deserve that trust, but by god he’d try to live up to it.

[lw77]

Diet Pepsi 💈 (LSxMV)

Chapter 4. - Good?

A boat, a swim, a party and heat. All in that order.

🧴 It may help to read Chapter 3- Sunburn before this! 🧴

“Hmmm, more sunscreen, baby?” Max asks in an oblivious tone that only makes Logan more frustrated, especially as he's drowning in this heady arousal.

Whining his displeasure into Max’s neck, Logan tries to rock his hips back for some friction, but Max’s chuckle vibrates through him, teasing. “C’mon, Maxie, please,” Logan pleads.

In response, Max cups Logan’s thighs, gently closing them from their wide, debauched display. He shifts Logan to lie sideways across his lap, moving him down his chest. Logan rests his arms on Max’s chest, looking up with glassy, pleading eyes. Max gazes down at him, smoothing a hand through Logan’s hair. “You’ll have to behave, Angel. Everyone’s coming back now. You can be good for me, right?” 

Logan gulps for air, trying to nod and clear his head, but his tongue feels too heavy in his mouth. “Y-yeah, I can be good.”

With his head a little clearer, Logan hears the jet skis in the distance. Panic tenses his body against Max’s chest. “What’s wrong, Angel?” Max asks, his lips brushing Logan’s temple.

Logan’s eyes flick up to Max’s before dropping down. “Th-they’re gonna know,” he mumbles.

Max chuckles. “It’s okay. We’ll go in the water before they board, Angel. Let’s go.” He stands, pulling Logan up with him.

Logan’s legs buckle, but Max’s steady hands hold him upright.

Max was right; Logan can see the dots of the boys growing closer, their hoots and hollers getting louder.

“Ready?” Max asks.

Logan nods. “Yeah, I’ll just slip in this time.”

Max dives into the water before swimming back closer to where Logan is dangling his legs. With a playful grin, Max grabs Logan’s legs, prompting a surprised yelp as he pulls him in. Logan sputters as the water washes over him. “That was mean, Maxie,” he protests. 

But Max grins cheekily, guiding Logan to wrap his arms and legs around him, tilting his head in question. “Better?” 

Logan tightens his arms, contemplating dramatically before replying, “No.” His ploy is obvious as he snuggles into Max, resting his head on his shoulder while gazing at the horizon behind them.

The boys finally come back, whistling at their close display. His own best friends give him knowing looks over their sunglasses as they board.

But he and Max just stay close, Max’s body a warm presence in the cool water. At some point, Logan lets his arms unwind from Max’s neck and relaxes back in the water, with only his legs acting as an anchor. Max’s hand centres him on his lower spine while the other leisurely treads the water.

On deck, leaning over the railing, Logan's two best friends stand. Oscar is taking a picture of the couple while Alex cups his mouth to shout, “Guys, there are otters in the water!” This makes some of the guys rush to the rail to see. Danny is the first to comment, “Those are quite big, mate! Good eye!” Finally, Carlos places a hand on Oscar’s shoulder and shouts, his Spanish accent thick as he teases, “You know otters mate for life!”

Still reclined in the water, Logan yells back, “I’m calling PETA or Greenpeace on you all.” He hears Max laugh and looks toward him, squinting against the sun, offering a smile. Using the same hand on Logan’s lower back, Max pulls him close and upright, and Logan wraps his arms around Max’s shoulders.

Logan leans back to look into Max’s eyes, curious. “Were you being serious earlier when you said that?”

Leisurely treading water to keep them both afloat, Max replies, “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific, Angel.”

“Back at the—uh, when we were inside? You said you wanted me for a while,” Logan says, looking away shyly.

“Can you blame me? I’ve been thinking about you since the first time I saw you at your dad’s store—all red cheeks and bright eyes.”

Logan gulps at Max’s easy admission. “Okay, good,” he says, meeting Max’s gaze again.

“Ready to go back up, Angel?”

“Yeah, thanks for hiding me, Maxie,” Logan replies softly, burying his face in Max’s neck as he remembers his earlier situation.

As they climb onto the deck, Max hands Logan a towel before pulling him into his lap as they sit with the others, ready to head back.

“So, little Logan, did you have a good nap? Feeling energised to party tonight?” Charles asks teasingly. Unknowingly, his words make Logan blush as he remembers what followed his nap, feeling Max’s chest move in quiet laughter. Logan chokes out an unconvincing, “Y-yeah.”

Max’s silent laughter and Logan’s flustered state make Charles pause, along with the others. Then Charles smiles wide, clapping his hands together as he laughs, “I think some of us lost our money, boys!”

Logan squeaks out, “No! Nothing happened,” at their insinuation, knowing full well about the bet. He buries his face in his hands before burrowing back deeper into Max, eyes big and pleading. “Maxie, tell them!” 

“Angel’s right, nothing happened; he’s been good,” Max replies calmly, his eyes sparkling with something as he smiles down at Logan. Heat runs down Logan’s spine at the memory of Max’s earlier instruction to be good for him. Max’s hand soothes him as he gently smooths the back of Logan’s neck, making him relax against him once more.

He feels someone pat his knee. Looking down, Logan sees it’s Alex. “I knew Princess wouldn’t let me down. Thank you, Logie Bear.” Alex’s hand is splayed over his heart like he’s been touched.

“You guys are awful. I’m going home!” Logan says brattily.

“With Max Emmilian?” Charles excitedly clamours, making Logan groan as he buries his head further in his hands. He can’t win this one.

___________________

When they dock back at the house, Max nudges Logan gently. “You go ahead, Angel. I need to help bring some of the stuff in.” He presses a kiss to the back of Logan’s neck before standing and helping Logan to his feet as well.

“Okay,see you.” Eager to avoid any heavy lifting, Logan hurries off in search of Oscar to head inside together.

He finds Oscar easily enough, sliding up beside him with ease. “So, C-Captain ?” Logan teases, imitating Oscar’s earlier reaction. Oscar promptly shoves him hard enough to make him teeter dangerously off the dock.

“Hey!” Logan exclaims, barely managing to steady himself before falling. “Okay, okay, I won’t tease! But come on, Osc—spill! Don’t think I didn’t notice you were gone. Were you helping George ‘man the helm’?” He lowers his voice into a sultry tone.

Logan watches a flush rise on his friend’s cheeks. “Oh my god, did you!”

“No!” Oscar groans. “We just talked, Logan. I think he’s straight.”

“Maybe, but we’ll see tonight. Besides Captain My Captain, did anyone else catch your eye?” Logan prompts, nudging him.

Oscar glances at him nervously. “Uh, yeah... um, Carlos?”

“I see it.” Logan nods, picturing his best friend with the tall, dark Spaniard. “But don’t be too quick to cross anyone off just because you think they’re straight. Who knows? You might end up with both in your bed tonight. Now wouldn’t that be a treat, Mr. Born-Again Virgin?” Logan says optimistically.

“Maybe,” Oscar replies, still looking a little too sulky for a man with options.

Used to Oscar’s dramatics, Logan rolls his eyes and pushes him toward one of the bedrooms. “Come on, let’s get changed. I brought an extra pair of my ‘fuck-me’ jeans just for you because I support your pillow-princess agenda.”

“I brought my own outfit,” Oscar grumbles.

“Yeah, you dress like a Sean-Cody reject, Osc. It looks good on some, but it’s not going to help your plans tonight,” Logan says matter-of-factly.

He tosses a pair of light-wash jeans and a black tee into Oscar’s hands, then turns to put on his own dry clothes. When he’s finished, he sees that Oscar is ready too. The black tee emphasises the taper of his torso, and both their jeans sit low on their hips, tight enough to show a hint of skin with every movement.

Logan raises an eyebrow. “See? Your waist looks tiny, Osc. I bet both Carlos and George won’t be able to stop themselves.”

Oscar crosses his arms, unintentionally drawing attention to his defined pecs. “Fine, but don’t make it too obvious, please. I’ll do my... thing.”

Logan pokes Oscar’s puffed-up chest. “Sure, just stand like this. I’m pretty sure they won’t be able to resist.”

“Thanks, Log,” Oscar says with a playful smack to Logan’s hand before grabbing it and pulling them both toward the living room, where everyone is already gathered.

There’s music playing at a low volume, and a few are are sprawled on the couch, relaxing or chatting. Danny’s cheery voice rings out from the deck as he makes his way in, arms full with two cases of coolers and beers. Max, Carlos, and Charles follow behind him, each carrying their own assortment of drinks.

Logan turns to Oscar, eyebrow raised. “He said this was going to be a small party. Are there more people coming?”

Oscar’s brows furrow at the sight. “It’s like a Freshies’ wet dream.”

“What’s a Freshie’s wet dream?” Alex asks, slinging an arm around both of them.

“The drinks, Alex. That’s not all for us, right?” Oscar explains, still trying to wrap his head around the overwhelming amount and variety laid out before them.

“I know right, but I overheard George say it’s less than what they usually have, so yeah?” Alex replies, a grin creeping onto his face.

People begin to gather around the drinks, excited to kick off the night. Logan exchanges a look with Oscar, a mix of amusement and excitement in their expressions.

“Come on, Alex, celebratory shots are in order!” Logan says excitedly. Oscar, with a serious tone, adds, “Yes, time to get you drunk, Alboner.”

Together, they pull him toward the bar, laughter bubbling between them. Alex stumbles slightly, pretending to dig his heels as they lead him through the house.

“Have mercy, you twinks! Remember who’s throwing this party—who knows how many shots he’ll make me do?” Alex protests, though a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth.

Charles is manning the bar and greets the three sweetly, pouring them all a generous shot of tequila. As soon as they finish, they spot a fruity concoction waiting for them, accompanied by a devious smile from Charles as he gestures for them to take it. “Go ahead, boys. This is special since it’s your first time with us!”

Looking from the drink to Charles’s smile, the trio isn’t sure whether to feel appreciative or terrified.

Before they can think any more about it, George joins them. “You guys should drink soon. If Danny sees you, he’s going to add ‘a shot’ to each of yours.”

Charles offers a nonchalant shrug.

It’s Alex who shoots them a worried look. “I’m guessing this shot is actually a bottle?”

George claps him on the back. “Got it in one, Albono.”

“Okay, cheers then, boys,” Oscar says, picking up his drink. The other two follow suit, clinking their glasses together as they cheer.

____________________

Logan hasn’t seen Max since the trio wandered away from the bar, and that was three drinks ago. He’s pleasantly pliant, feeling loose from the back-to-back shots.

The three are squished on a loveseat, with Logan on Alex’s side. Oscar, already tipsy, is sprawled over Alex’s lap, his back resting comfortably against him. 

“Already time for homie cuddles, Osc?” Alex teases.

“Shut up, Alboner,” Oscar replies, smacking the back of his head against Alex’s chest.

“Where’s Max, Log? Did he leave?” Oscar asks, looking at Logan with confusion.

Before Logan can voice his own confusion, they hear laughter as Danny, Max, and the others from the bar filter into the living room.

“Alright, fuckers, time for some middle school fun!” Danny shouts, brandishing an empty Moët bottle.

"Oh god,” Logan says at the same time as Alex exclaims, “Oh good.”

They look at each other and laugh, prompting Oscar to shout, “Jinx! One of you owes me a soda, but I’ll accept another drink in its place!”

“Water,” both Logan and Alex say simultaneously, which makes Oscar shout another “Jinx!” as he shoots upright from his sprawled position, excitedly smacking Alex’s shoulder.

Seeing everyone make their way to the circle forming on the floor, Logan gets up while Alex manages a clingy Oscar.

“But I’m comfortable, Alex,” Oscar whines, only conceding when Alex lets him slump down onto the floor beside him. Only for him to crawl back onto his lap after flashing him a pleading look. Snuggling back against Alex, Oscar sighs contentedly, “Perfect.”

Used to Oscar’s drunk antics, Logan scans the room for Max when he notices George and Carlos exchanging raised eyebrows at the sight of Alex and Oscar. He feels a hand brush against the back of his head and looks up to see Max looking down at him, a drink in hand.

Logan sees Max’s eyes flicker to Oscar and Alex, who is wiggling around in Alex’s lap. “Stop moving, Osc, Jesus,” Alex says, finally holding him down by the hips. This only makes Oscar giggle as he throws his head back with a mischievous smile. Max then glances over at Carlos and George, and as Logan follows his gaze, he catches a flash of heat in both their eyes before it disappears.

Looking back at Logan, Max grins at their discovery. He then nods and motions to where he’ll be sitting—right across from Logan.

Danny claps his hands from his seat at the top of the circle, ready to take on the role of game master as he announces that they’ll be playing Truth or Dare.

__________________

A few rounds pass, and thankfully neither he nor Max are called upon. The bottle finally stops on Alex and, by default, Oscar, spun by Charles, who glances at Danny for guidance.

"Alright, since the bottle's pointing at either Oscar or Alex, dealer's choice, Charles," Danny says, amusement lighting up his eyes.

"Works for me," Charles says with a casual shrug. "So, Oscar, truth or dare?"

Oscar, now a bit more settled against Alex after being held down earlier, lifts his head and blinks, puffing his cheeks in thought before exclaiming, "Dare."

A devious smile spreads across Charles' face as he pretends to think for a moment. "Okay, I dare you to make out with Alex," he says, checking his watch. "For at least 60 seconds—could be more, chéri , up to you!" His excitement is barely concealed.

Leaning back against Alex’s chest, Oscar easily pulls Alex’s face toward him, a gesture that shows it’s not their first time. As Alex kisses back, Oscar begins moving against him again, making Alex’s hands on his hips tighten. One of Alex's hands slides to Oscar’s front, pressing against his stomach to still him.

Oscar whines into the kiss, his hand covering Alex’s as he arches into him even more. At being restrained, Oscar begins pleading softly, murmuring "please," "more," and "’Lex," while Alex tries to soothe him with gentle kisses. Finally, Alex deepens the kiss in the way he knows Oscar craves, and Oscar, at last, settles as he receives it. Now making small sounds of appreciation, Oscar’s hand travels from Alex’s face to his hair, gripping the strands to keep him close.

The scene between them is so erotic that even Charles’ earlier devious smile fades into one of confused arousal. When Oscar finally pulls away, gasping for breath, both he and Alex are left breathing heavily against each other, Oscar’s soft gasps suddenly loud in the room that had once been filled with noise.

As the two lean in for more, Logan glances around the room and notices the heated stares from both Carlos and George. He wonders whether their intense gazes are directed solely at Oscar or at Alex as well.

Looking beside them at Max, Logan sees him reclining on his hands, raising an amused eyebrow in response. As Oscar’s desperate noises grow louder, his pleas to Alex rise again, a muffled, “Make me feel good, please,” echoing through the room, accompanied by aborted rolls of his hips against Alex’s restraining hands.

It’s Danny who finally claps his hands, signalling the end of the dare to the two and the rest of the room. The sound startles the group back to awareness, and Alex gently pulls away from Oscar, nuzzling into his neck before loosening his hold with a final peck on the cheek.

Oscar, still curled against Alex, hiccups for breath as he slumps into Alex’s chest, wiggling to get comfortable again—only to stop when Alex playfully swats his thigh.

Oscar then looks over at Charles, his lips puffy and slick, eyes glassy with arousal, and a sweet blush dusting his cheeks. With an innocent, “Good?” he asks.

“Ye-yeah! Very good, chéri , I didn’t see that coming,” Charles responds, stuttering slightly in his admission. Oscar, smiling cutely, picks up the bottle and spins it, ready to continue the game after his little performance.

💈 Previous Parts of the Series 💈

Chapter 1 - Angel

Chapter 2 - Hunter?

Chapter 3- Sunburn

Let me know what you think 💋

[jazzyderaoz]

This is a strictly 18+ blog

You must have your age stated in your bio to follow/interact. I will block minors instantly + add you to ban list for the foreseeable future. In addition I will block and permanently ban any nasty little pisstakers. I don’t engage with human slimes of any kind; inc but not limited to: radfems, lgbtq+ exclusionists (any variety), phobes, maps, abusers or anyone I take a disliking to inc boundary stompers.

psst…. (Deraoz is pronounced /Dee-ray/os-z/)

Hey I’m Jasper, (but Jas, Jazz or Jazzy works too-if you’re feeling brave.)

My pronouns are he/him. I’m a queer transmasc guy from the UK.

~~~

Some stuff about me:

I’m 26, been dominating for around 5 years now, but topping a little longer. I almost exclusively top, but I have and do make exceptions to that rule when I’m in the mood, though it doesn’t happen often.

I’ll be posting mostly t4t content here, I’m bi, though I’m especially attracted to transmascs/transmen.

Physically I’m masc-presenting. I’m genderqueer and male-aligned. I still possess my natal genitals. My personal style tends to be jeans/t-shirts/denim or leather jackets. I’d call myself a guy, a boy, a queer, a mess, a dumbass-

I’m a kickboxer, it’s important to me to maintain my strength and stamina (😏) and it’s euphoric for me as to maintain a masculine build. Know that when I talk about manhandling my subs, I am usually more than capable of doing so whatever their size.

I love to dom but outside of that I’m soft as anything, love to cuddle, love taking really good care of my subs. Love being a protector type x

If you send me an ask I’ll almost certainly flirt with you, can’t help myself tbh - but I’ll take the lead from you as to how nsfw your ask is. Totally sfw question, fair enough I’ll be real with you. Tell me you’re wet and want me to fuck you? My reply gonna be horny as hell so be prepared for that…

I’m big on pet names. If you don’t want me to call you something in particular (in an ask for example) please let me know. Pet names I use most often are baby(boy), honey, sweetheart and darling - I also like to call my subs lovely/little___ etc.

My aim here is to get you as hot and bothered as possible. I love to get sent asks, any dirty little fantasy baby, I want to hear it.

~~~

Keep Reading for Kinks / Hard Boundaries etc.

🟢 Kinks & Turn-ons: 🟢

-> Praise (me@you)

-> Hair Pulling / Bruising / Rough Play

-> Size Difference

-> Desperation/Edging

-> Humiliation

-> Manhandling and Restraint

🔻Some Boundaries:🔻

🔸 Please don’t send any asks/prompts trying to top me unless you’ve asked first, I’m picky about it lol.

🔸 No petplay - related asks in my inbox pls. I won’t block you but I won’t reply to them either.

🔸 Hard limits resulting in me blocking you should you feel the need to try to include me in them; - -> noncon, piss/scat, ageplay, high intensity masochism/sadism (verbal abuse/HI spanking esp) - (lower intensity/softer I'm occasionally up for - I'll spank you with my hand just not a riding crop lmao)

🔸Content Masterlist:🔸 (🔞)

Writings: 💛 - longer writings || 🧡 - shorter thoughts

💛 on my lap, riding my cock

🧡 want to suck on tdick so bad

🧡 get on the fucking bed

💛 desperate little mess

🧡 tiny little boytoys

🧡 aftercare (softjazz) - sfw

💛 messy little plaything

💛 manhandling + semi-rough use

🧡 humping, pinned against the wall

💛 pull my hair and fuck my mouth

——— ——— ——— ——— ———

Tags:

#tag:softjazz - (For yearnings/soft postings)

#tag:manhandling

#tag:sizedifference

#tag:edging

#tag:asks

#tag:jazzyrealtalk - (For actually saying shit/opposed to just straight up hornyposting lmao)

——— ——— ——— ——— ———

Anon Tags:

#anon:🌻

#anon:🕸️

#anon:🐝

#anon:💙

#anon:🏝️

#anon:✨

Credit for dividers here

[alittlextrathatway]

I got a prompt request from Sand86802 on twitter. Obviously, she doesn’t have a tumblr so she couldn’t send me an ask. But I’m gonna post it here anyway. Thought I’d go high school AU for this one. I’m sure you’ll get why when you see the prompt lol.

Hope you all enjoy it!

***

Prompt:

“Hopin’ one of those senior boys will wink at you and say, “you know I haven’t seen you around before.”

“Fifteen” by Taylor Swift

+

Location: homeroom

***

Relocating to Chicago was not her choice.

Her dad sold the farm and, with it, their home. Working a family farm just wasn’t turning a profit and they had two kids who would want to go to college eventually. So, her dad got a job at a greenhouse in Chicago where he could still tend to plants, just not vegetables and not at his own expense.

Did she want to leave Fowlerton? No. But does she understand why they had to? Yes. And now that she’s here, she’s determined to make the best of it.

When she arrives at school, the guidance counselor introduces her to her tour guide for the day. Sylvie expected someone from her own class. Maybe an overachieving Junior like herself. But instead she meets Gabby Dawson, a drop dead gorgeous senior who seems cooler and more enigmatic than Sylvie could ever dream of being.

Gabby walks her to her homeroom and points across the hall once Sylvie stands just over the threshold. “I’m over there,” she says. “Most seniors are in home rooms across the hall actually. If you need me after the bell rings just wait for me by the door. Okay?”

“Yes!” She says, sounding far too eager. But, goodness, she’d love to be friends with Gabby. She’s a city girl that seems prepared for everything — cool, calm, collected. Sylvie is none of those things. Gabby grins, failing to hide her amusement, as Sylvie tries to tone herself down. “I mean…cool. Thanks.”

“Hey, Dawson, you got a sec?”

Both girls turn to face a dark blonde, blue eyed boy in jeans and a plaid button down the same shade as his eyes. Sylvie feels her throat go dry as she swallows thickly. He’s the cutest boy she’s ever seen.

“Yeah, I’m just making sure Sylvie knows how to get around.”

Matt’s eyes shift over to her, as if he just noticed her presence. She doesn’t expect much of a reaction. Not when someone like Gabby is standing next to her. But his eyes flash with interest and the corner of his mouth quirks, creating a barely there crooked smile. “I’m assuming you’re Sylvie.”

“Oh! Yes! Hi!” She replies, sticking out her hand for a shake. “Sylvie Brett. I’m new.”

“You don’t say?” He asks, his crooked smile threatens to bloom further. She hopes it doesn’t because she’s not sure she would survive one his full smiles. “I figured since I haven’t seen you around before.” He accepts her handshake as he introduces himself. “Matt Casey.”

Matt Casey. That’s a good strong name. She has a feeling it’s going to be decorating the inside of her notebooks pretty soon. (Should she buy new gel pens to represent her new crush?) Matt is adorable.

“Sylvie’s family just moved here from Indiana,” Gabby tells him, eyebrows raising with some sort of secret meaning. “She grew up on a farm.”

“Huh. That’s new. Must be a bit of a weird adjustment moving to the city.” It’s a declarative statement but his solemn face and attentive eyes make it feel like a question.

“It’s definitely different,” she admits. “Especially because right now my family’s crammed into a two bedroom apartment while we try to find a more permanent place. It’s been…chaotic.”

“I’m sure,” he says, holding her stare and nodding as if he’s giving every word she says equal weight and consideration.

He looks as though he has more he wants to say, more questions for her to answer, but Gabby interrupts.

“The bell’s about to ring. We should get to our homeroom. Plus, we’re kinda blocking Mr. McHolland’s doorway. And didn’t you need to ask me something?”

“Oh, yeah, I just needed to borrow some notes,” he says, waving his hand as if to physically brush the issue away. He focuses his attention on Sylvie again. “You’re joining us for lunch later, right?”

“Me?” She asks meekly.

“Sure, I mean you don’t know anyone else right now. We’re not gonna let you eat alone. Right, Dawson?” Matt asks her, eyes narrowing pointedly.

“I mean, sure, yeah, ordinarily,” Gabby agrees. “But today is Portillo’s day and I’m not sure there’s enough room in Severide’s car.”

Matt’s expression pinches in confusion, visually rejecting Gabby’s concerns as if they’re ridiculous. “Then I’ll drive her. I don’t like cramming in his mustang anyway. I mean, if that’s okay with Sylvie?” He asks, lifting one eyebrow at her in question.

“Are you kidding?” She asks earnestly. “Lunch out with you two or walking through the cafeteria trying to navigate lunchroom cliques? This is a no brainer.” She’s probably coming on too strong. Gabby’s cringing faintly, clearly she thinks so. But Sylvie can’t bring herself to care. She was terrified of her first day and Matt is already making it easier. “I’d love to.”

“Cool,” Matt replies, showing her that full smile she feared earlier. She was right. She’s not going to survive it. He’s handsome without it but with the smile he glows. She can’t take her eyes off of him. “I should, um, get to my homeroom.” He points over his shoulder and takes a couple of steps backward. “But I’ll meet you right back here for lunch?”

“Absolutely. I’ll be here, don't worry,” she assures him.

He nods and claps once, awkwardly bobbing his head. “Great, perfect. Can’t wait.”

He takes one more backward step and bumps into a group of kids, nearly knocking one boy down. Sylvie giggles softly as he apologizes through a wince. He waves at her one last time, completely forgetting to say goodbye to Gabby. Sylvie waves back, biting her bottom lip.

Not even here a full day and she already sort of has a date.

Maybe Chicago won’t be so bad, afterall.

[cowboysandpilots]

Winners and Losers (18+)

(Hi, these tennis players have awakened something in me, and so I am back. ❤️ I missed you all. Please be warned that this fic contains smut with some dom/sub undertones and brief mommy kink 🙈)

“What do you want?” Tashi always asks and Art always answers the same way.

“I want you.”

Art has always been needy, he needs Tashi to take from him and give to him all at the same time. She knows what he needs, she always has, and besides tennis, he needs to be taken care of.

“I know.” Her smile is a devious one, full of mischief, and Art knows that he’s really in for a punishment after the way he played today, but that doesn’t mean he wants it any less. It’s what he deserves after all. “Go wait for me in the bedroom, strip down and sit; don’t lay, sit, on the bed. Do you understand”

She always asks him if he understands like she’s speaking some language other than English, but he always responds anyway. “Yes, I understand,” His voice is low but not cold. He swallows, throat dry. This is what he needs: someone to be in charge of him.

“Oh, and Art?” He turns around and faces her again obediently. “No touching either.” She says it in a way that’s not up for debate. He wouldn’t try to debate her anyway. Without a word, he turns back around and heads straight to their bedroom.

Tashi makes him wait 20 minutes before coming into the bedroom. It’s customary at this point, to see if Art can really follow her rules and be as obedient as she needs him to be. He almost always is now, though it took a while to get rid of those pesky bad habits he picked up from Patrick. He had done what she’d asked of him, sitting on the end of their bed, completely naked and half hard, just from the anticipation.

“Good boy,” Tashi smiles as she enters the room and Art shivers. He loves being good. He loves being the best. She must know that he hadn't disobeyed her, that his semi-erection was only from his excitement. She knows him well enough now to know that if he had wrapped his long fingers around his cock, he would be fully hard; he still didn’t have enough self-control to stop. “You didn’t play very well today,” she continues like he wasn’t aware, and Art bites his lip. This is what he needs. “Did you?” She prompts firmly. Art had been too in his own head too remember what he was supposed to be doing.

“No, mommy.” He replies, looking up at her from his seated position. They both had been slightly worried that Art’s little surprise kink would be ruined after they had had their daughter, but it wasn’t they had always been two very separate things.

“And since you didn't play well, I don’t think you should be rewarded. Do you?”

“No, mommy,” Art repeats. He knows what’s coming; it was Tashi’s favourite punishment. She wraps her hand around his cock and starts to pump it, agonizingly slowly. He holds back a groan and tries to stay still.

By the time he is fully erect, Art is breathing harshly out of his nose and he can’t stop the way his eyelids keep fluttering. “I’m going to cum,” he warns breathlessly, even though he knows that Tashi was going to have none of it, especially so early.

“No. You. Are. Not.” Each of Tashi’s words are firm and with a tone that Art wouldn’t dare disobey, but she doesn’t pull her hand away like she normally would. In fact, she speeds up, making Art whine desperately, a sound she never tires of hearing.

Art swallows and he tries to listen to her, tries to remember what will happen if he doesn’t listen and cums without permission. At a certain point, though, his mind is no match for his body and he whimpers, squirming in a desperate attempt to pull back from her. "Seriously, Tashi, I can’t; I’m gonna-”

His whining gets cut off by a sharp slap across his face. The pain makes him moan, and even though Tashi’s hand had been removed, his cock jerks violently, and he cums untouched with a sob, spurting against his own stomach and chest without permission.

Tashi looks utterly disgusted with Art and the fact that his body betrays him. “You’re so fucking pathetic.” She spits, shaking her head as she stands up. The problem is that this only makes Art want her more, and Tashi knows it; she loves it. “Losers sleep on the couch,” she says, turning back to look at him one last time, dragging her eyes over his red and undoubtedly stinging cheek, looking oh so small, hunched over on the bed, and purposely avoiding her eyes. “Let’s see if you can win tomorrow,”

(Thanks for reading. If you are feeling generous, I would be so grateful if you could help support me and my writing 💕)

[photogirl894]

"Sun and Rain Part 2: Age of the Empire"

Chapter 14

"Trust Issues"

A "Bad Batch" fanfic!

Pairing: Hunter x fem OC, Echo (more best friend pairing)

A/N: So this is where things with the story are gonna deviate just a little. First of all, I'm skipping episode 6 for reasons that do coincide with the story, but also I can't stand the Martez sisters and I just know my strong dislike would manifest itself into the story lol plus I couldn't think of anything involving Kimber that would change things enough, so I'm just bypassing it. Plus, after that, there's gonna be original mission shenanigans soon to ensue, so that's gonna be fun! 😁

Until then, enjoy this chapter! 💜

Taglist: @the-sad-batch , @nimata-beroya , @intrepidmare , @cole-kenxbi , @tech-aficionado , @ladykatakuri , @d1n0-dan , @sammi9498 , @darthzero22 , @scarlettrose9901 , @tech-deck , @thebadbatchscyare , @chxpsi , @ilikemymendarkandfictional , @4pplecider , @locitapurplepink , @l-lend , @nekotaetae , @eternalwaffle , @merkitty49 , @avathebestx

《 Chapter 13

》 Chapter 15

All chapters (Part 2) (Part 1)

Explanation: The Bad Batch get their promised info from Cid and call upon old friends to help them out.

Together, Hunter and Kimber made their way around to where they could hear Muchi roaring, Hunter holding tightly onto Kimber’s hand to help ease her discomfort and offer her a sense of security after what she’d just endured. They came around a corner to find Tech standing off to the side, watching Wrecker going at with Muchi and throwing punches.

“Kimber, you are all right,” said Tech upon seeing them, a touch of relief in his voice. After she nodded in reply, he stated, “That was a foolhardy and bold decision you made…yet I cannot discount the mettle you displayed in the face of the situation. That was indeed admirable.”

“Thanks, Tech,” Kimber replied.

Right then, they heard the sound of an engine approaching and saw Echo pulling up next to them on a speederbike with Omega sitting behind him, a Zygerrian energy bow on her arm. Omega jumped off first, wandering closer to where Wrecker and Muchi were brawling and getting curious about the fight.

As Echo dismounted the bike, Hunter called to him, gesturing to the slave collar still on Kimber’s neck, “Echo, get her out of this thing.”

Right away, Echo came over and started drilling into the back of the collar with his scomp. “Kim, what were you thinking back there? Have you forgotten the promise you made me about not making such reckless decisions with your life anymore?” he chided her as he worked the collar.

“Apparently, I about broke two promises,” she thought to herself. Then she said back, “I was more concerned with you boys getting freed. Omega needs her brothers and you can’t help her when you’re prisoners.”

“She needs you, too, and so do we,” he countered just as the collar came undone and he removed it from her neck, prompting her to face him as he did so. “Your intentions were good, but you promised you wouldn’t take unnecessary risks with your life like that again. I never want to see you willingly put yourself back into slavery, okay? We didn’t save you from captivity just for you to go back for any reason.”

She lowered her eyes guiltily.

Then he added, "Besides, did you really think he would've honored his word after he was done torturing you? He's a slaver and they don't give up what they deem their property for anything. Despite what you intended to happen, there's no way he would've given us up. Not even for you."

Kimber's eyes squeezed tightly shut and she inhaled sharply. Echo was right. How could she have overlooked that and thought her plan would work? It would've only made things worse, especially for Omega if all of them had been taken. Then she definitely would've never forgiven herself for what she'd done.

“I hadn't thought of that…I’m so sorry. Can you guys forgive me?” she asked, looking to Echo, Hunter and Tech.

“Of course, we can,” answered Echo, laying his hand on her shoulder.

“I thought that was obvious,” Tech added.

That brought a smile of relief to Kimber’s face.

Echo then looked at Wrecker, who was starting to falter and get slower in his punches with the Rancor, who was also getting tired. “How long’s he been at this?” Echo asked, turning back to Tech.

Tech simply answered, “Too long. He’s losing his touch.”

They all continued to watch as Wrecker and Muchi kept swinging and missing each other, both of them getting fatigued and tired from the fight. Finally, Muchi caved in first and collapsed to the ground shortly before Wrecker, who fell on top of the Rancor.

“Go to sleep…there we go,” Wrecker groaned, patting the Rancor who was drifting off to sleep.

“Aw, she’s kind of cute up close,” Omega pointed out.

Kimber chuckled. “If you say so,” she commented.

"Nicely handled, Wrecker," Hunter praised him, who just gave the Sergeant a tired thumbs up in return.

"All right, the real question now is: how are we going to get a sleeping Rancor back to Cid's?” Kimber then asked.

Tapping things out on his datapad, Tech suggested, “We could get her back into her cage and then secure it magnetically to the underside of our ship.”

“She’s asleep. How are we supposed to put her back into her cage?” asked Echo.

“We shall carry her, with Wrecker bearing the brunt of the weight,” answered Tech.

Wrecker groaned as he stood back up, “Oh goody….”

The task of getting Muchi into her cage and then secured to the Marauder was no easy task by any means, but the Bad Batch managed to do it nonetheless. Once the cargo was ready, they returned to Cid’s bar, where a male Twi’lek was waiting outside with some Gammorean guards to collect Muchi. He seemed pleased to see the Rancor, gave Cid a case with the payment and wasted no time in leaving with Muchi.

Once they were gone, Cid commented to the group, “Gotta say, fellas: I wasn’t sure you could pull this job off.”

“You could have told us we were going after a Rancor,” Echo chided her.

“Hmm…must’ve slipped my mind,” she casually answered. Then she pointed at Hunter. “You, dark and broody. My office.” Then she turned around and made her way towards the stairs to her parlor.

Hunter, while perplexed at what Cid had called him, gave a nod to the others.

Then they heard Cid call over her shoulder, “And bring the Missus with you!”

Kimber immediately felt all eyes on her. “Excuse me?” she thought.

“I think she means you,” Echo said to her, grinning from ear to ear and lightly elbowing her in the arm.

Now she felt even more conflicted at being nicknamed “the Missus”, especially since she and Hunter weren’t married yet. Cid must’ve assumed they were, for some reason. Nevertheless, she took Hunter’s hand and the two of them followed behind Cid to the parlor and then to her office in the back.

Cid pulled up on her holotable a hologram once again of the bounty hunter from Pantora and informed Hunter and Kimber, “Your bounty hunter is Fennec Shand. She's new to the scene but has already proven herself to be cunning and ruthless.”

“Who hired her?” Hunter asked, his eyes narrowing at the image.

“Unknown,” said Cid.

“Wasn’t that the entire point of this?” Kimber questioned her, irritated. “We did a job for you and you find out who hired the bounty hunter.”

Cid leered at her and snapped back, “Hey, if this information was easy to get, you wouldn’t need me in the first place, Dollface.”

Kimber just glared at the Trandoshan and Hunter gave Kimber a look that warned her to be careful.

Then Cid went on, “Now, before I was so rudely interrupted, my sources in the Guild say she's working on a direct commission. With someone like her nipping at your heels, you're going to need two things: friends and money. Mostly money.”

“Well, we're not swimming in either at the moment,” Hunter responded.

“I guess it's a good thing ya met me then, isn't it?” said Cid.

When Cid turned her back to pick up the case she’d gotten from the Twi’lek, Kimber whispered to Hunter, “We have the Koriena Force. Maybe they can help us.”

“We’ll comm them when we get back to the ship,” he said quietly back.

Cid put the case up onto her desk and opened it, revealing it to be full of credits. “Here's your cut. There's more where that came from... if you're looking for work,” she offered them.

Hunter stole a look at Kimber first and then simply replied, “I'll think about it.”

The two of them turned to leave the room, but then stopped when they heard Cid speak cunningly behind them, “It's interesting…a bounty hunter of Fennec's caliber being after you. You fellas must be pretty valuable.”

They exchanged apprehensive looks. Cid’s statement sounded on the verge of threatening and they both flipped back around, their eyes narrowing at Cid suspiciously.

However, Cid just gave them a conniving grin and said, “Don't worry. I'm good with secrets.”

Kimber, however, wasn’t convinced and she didn’t trust Cid at all, especially after her comment on how “valuable” they must be. With her eyes still carefully trained on Cid, she fired back, “You had better be…or else your parlor’s going to need a new proprietor.”

“No need to get your blacks in a twist. As long as you guys help bring in some good money, your secret’s safe with me,” Cid said.

“And what if we don’t?” inquired Kimber.

“Well…better hope we don’t find out, then,” Cid replied, sitting down at her desk. “Now get out, I’ve got things to do.”

Without hesitating, Kimber whipped around, her braid almost hitting Hunter, and stormed from the room, Hunter right on her heels. Once the door was shut and they were back out in the empty parlor, she stopped, turned to Hunter and stated in a hushed voice, “I do not trust her, Hunter. We got what we needed, let’s just leave and go elsewhere before she has the chance to sell us out. We can meet up with the Koriena Force somewhere and figure things out on our own, but we don’t need her.”

“I told her I would think about it,” Hunter said.

“What’s there to think about?” she asked back. “She basically insinuated she’d sell us out for money without outright saying it and she’s going to hold our secret over our heads to get what she wants from us. People like that can’t be trusted.”

“We don’t have much of a choice right now, love,” he replied.

She stepped closer to him. “Yes, we do. We can find someone else. The girls may even have connections.”

“Their connections would be just as questionable,” he refuted. He brought his hands up to her arms and softly caressed them. “I understand your suspicion, I do…but we’re in a bind right now and we’re going to have to make hard choices.”

“But at what cost? Our own safety? Omega’s safety?”

“Kimber, listen to me.” Hunter gripped her shoulders a little tighter. “You know I would never endanger my squad like that. I want to run this option by the boys first before making a final decision. If they feel it’s what we should do, then that’ll be it.”

Kimber’s expression hardened. “What about me? What about what I think?” she questioned.

“You’ve made it pretty clear what you think,” he said, “but I still want input from the others and we’ll see what the majority rules.”

She wanted to say more, but just felt too fatigued and defeated to find the right words, so instead she just exhaled loudly and put a hand up to her forehead.

Then she felt Hunter’s hand smooth her hair on her head and he said to her, “We don’t have to worry about this now. You went through a lot today. Let’s get back to the ship so you can rest and I’ll reach out to the girls to see if they can come help us.”

In reply, she just tiredly nodded.

He pulled her into his arms and her head fell into the crook of his neck, her body slumping against him. “I’m not discounting your opinion, you know,” he said softly. “I care very much what you think, sweetheart. You know that.”

“I know, darling,” she sighed. “I’m just afraid of this drastic of a change and what it might mean for us.”

“Do you remember what I said to you when we left Saleucami?” he went on to ask her. “As long as I’m by your side and you're at mine, we can weather any storm together. I believe that…do you?”

She raised her head to meet his gaze. “You know I do.”

“Then there’s no need to be afraid,” he reassured her, running his hand along her cheek, his loving gaze filling her with the sense of calm she needed before he kissed her sweetly on the lips.

The moment, however, was then broken by the sound of Cid’s voice crying out, “For crying out loud, in the middle of my parlor? Really?”

Hunter and Kimber came apart, flinching slightly in surprise, and Kimber responded, “There’s no one even in here!”

“I’m in here,” Cid retaliated. “Now go smooch somewhere else.”

Kimber groaned with exasperation and Hunter just rolled his eyes as the two of them turned away and made their way out of the parlor and back outside. They first relayed the information Cid had given them about Fennec Shand and then they all walked back to the ship, needing some rest. Hunter stayed with Kimber until she was fast asleep and then asked Echo to keep his eyes and ears open in case she started having nightmares while he went to call the girls, which Echo gladly obliged to. Hunter took the encrypted comm Kimber had, went outside, put in Rina’s frequency and waited for her to answer.

It didn’t take long for Rina’s holographic form to appear. “Hey there, boss la--oh! Well, you weren’t who I was expecting, Sarge,” she greeted him.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” he replied.

“I’d make a comment about seeing your pretty face, but I’m pretty sure Boss Lady would skin me if I did,” she said back, eliciting a snicker from Hunter. “Where is she, by the way? She okay?”

“Kimber’s fine. She’s just resting right now, but she wanted me to reach out to you,” he told her.

“Mmm figured you were calling on her behalf and not just for a friendly chat.” Rina lifted her vape mod up to her mouth for a second and then went on to ask, “Well, to what do I owe the pleasure of a call from you, lover boy?”

Hunter shook his head slightly at hearing her nickname for him again, but then proceeded to inform her about Fennec Shand. “Our contact says, with someone like her after us, we need friends and money,” he explained.

“And for which reason are you calling me?” asked Rina, flourishing her mod.

He half-smirked and responded, “Friends, of course.”

“Hey, for all I know, you could be asking for money. Doesn’t hurt to check,” she said back. “Where did you guys land?”

“Ord Mantell.”

“Yeah, that’s about as seedy as they come. If your contact is telling you ‘friends and money’, I’d imagine she’s in some shady business, especially on Ord Mantell. Sadly, any contacts we’ve got won’t be any better and much less reliable, especially for money. If you’ve got this one offering you a chance to make money, I would suggest you take it. It’s better than nothing, even if it is questionable.”

“I’m going to run the option by everyone. We don’t have very many people we can rely on, but you ladies are the few we can. Anyone else, we don’t know where they are. Will you help us?”

Rina took another inhale of sweetblossom, her arms folded and a contemplative look on her face. “To tell you the truth, Sarge, we’re gonna need some help, too,” she relayed to him, “so maybe we can all help each other.”

That concerned him to hear. “What happened?” he asked.

“Some things went down on Pantora shortly after you guys split,” she said. “We were having to hide from the police after chasing that bounty hunter and then more Empire troops showed up. Things got…pretty ugly.” Her voice sounded on the verge of sad as she said the last sentence and her gaze averted to the ground.

Something about that didn’t sit well with Hunter. Something seemed off about her, he could somehow sense it. Now even more concerned, he inquired of her, “Rina…is everything okay? Did something else happen?”

She blinked, lifted her head and was back in better spirits as she answered, “Well, we’re not dead. That’s the important thing. To sum up, we weren’t safe and didn’t want to stick around, so we’ve just been drifting since then.” She inhaled on her mod one more time. “If you guys are in a bind, then we’ll help you, Sarge. I’m sure the girls won’t have any objections. It’ll take us a day or two to get to Ord Mantell, but we’ll be there. Tell the boss lady her Koriena ladies are coming.”

With a pleased grin, he responded, “I knew we could count on you. I’ll send you our coordinates.”

“Catch you soon, Sarge,” she said back, giving him a salute, before the hologram disappeared.

A couple days had passed and Kimber found that her condition since suffering a slew of shocks and whippings was actually getting worse. The day after, she’d been a bit sore and felt she just needed to relax while the Batch took time to figure things out and discuss working for Cid, but by the second day, her pain hadn’t lessened. If anything, she almost felt worse. Having acclimated to not being whipped and tortured like she used to, the consequences of it felt pretty painful and it seemed to last longer than she thought. It seemed what she’d suffered at the hands of the Zygerrians took more of a toll on her than she thought and she wondered if she’d be able to handle another mission right away. It was times like these that reminded her that her physical endurance and pain tolerance was different than the Clones’ because they all were completely fine.

She woke up that second day, feeling miserable, and found that she was alone. Hunter wasn’t in the room and instead, she found a datapad on the side where he usually slept. Sleepily, she picked it up, rubbed at her eyes so she could see what was on it and saw there was a note typed out on the screen.

I didn’t want to wake you and, after how difficult things were for you yesterday, I thought I’d give you the chance to rest as much as possible. When you wake up, we’re back at Cid’s. Omega wanted to try out her new bow. I’m sure she’d love for you to come watch.

Counting down the seconds until I see you.

H

Kimber smiled to herself, realizing it had been a while since Hunter had said that last phrase to her. He really was such a romantic. Unfortunately, it was a bit painful even getting out of the bed and she had a feeling it was going to be quite a trek for her over to Cid’s. Feeling the way she did, she knew getting her armor on was going to be a chore and it probably wouldn’t feel comfortable wearing it. For the time being, she was just going to put on some civvie clothes that were more comfortable and simpler to wear, so she slipped on the red and dark gray dress Hunter had gotten her on Kuat and the leggings that came with it. Once she was dressed and her hair re-braided, she made her way back to Cid’s.

She walked in just in time to get narrowly missed by an energy arrow in the doorway, which startled her. She saw the wide-eyed looks of Omega and the boys all looking her way just as the arrow made contact with the wall next to the door.

“Sorry!” Omega cried out.

“Goodness, if I wasn’t awake already, I certainly am now,” Kimber commented through a nervous chuckle.

As she made her way into the parlor, she noticed there was a makeshift target on the other side of the room that Omega was shooting at as well as several holes in the wall around it while there were only a couple on the actual target. It seemed like target practice was going…interestingly. Echo was standing behind Omega, instructing her on how to use the bow, while Hunter, Wrecker and Tech watched.

She walked past Wrecker, who was sitting atop a holotable, as well as the Weequay and Ithorian--whose names they’d found out were Bolo and Ketch--who were enjoying watching and taunting Omega. They paid her no mind, but Wrecker gave her a pat on the back and a smile as she walked by him. Then she moved next to Hunter who immediately put his arm around her shoulders.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, giving her a gentle squeeze.

She groaned, “In a lot of pain, actually.”

“Still? Aw, man,” said Wrecker.

Right at that moment, Omega fired her bow and the shot landed just to the right of the bullseye, hitting the target. She was excited and cheered that she’d made the hit.

“Well done, Omega,” said Kimber, putting on a smile for the kid.

That made Omega’s eyes light up even more, but then Echo told her to fire again. “But I’ve already hit the target three times,” she argued.

“Out of twelve,” Echo corrected her. “That’s luck, Omega, not skill. Soldiers need to be consistent.”

She then proceeded to take two more shots, missing widely each time. One of the shots even went so sideways, it hit one of the holotables. Bolo and Ketch were still taunting her and taking bets on whether or not she’d hit the target, which irritated her a lot. Echo tried his best to reassure her, but it wasn’t really working.

“Not exactly a natural, is she?” commented Wrecker to Hunter, who just shrugged indifferently.

Right after that, however, Cid came in and declared she wanted to talk business, shooing Bolo and Ketch out of the parlor in the process. First, she asked if the Clones knew what a tactical Droid was and Tech tried superseding her explanation, despite the fact everyone else indicated they knew what she was talking about. Though, she hushed his explanation, calling him “Goggles” in the process. Then she shoved Wrecker off the holotable he was sitting on and pulled up a hologram first of a tactical Droid and then a decommissioning facility that she said was on the planet, Corellia, saying she wanted them to get one of these Droids for her before they were all destroyed.

“We haven’t decided if we’re gonna work for you or not,” Hunter countered with.

“Allow me to decide for you. You’re in!” Cid declared.

Kimber’s hands clenched tightly into fists at her sides. “That’s not how this works,” she said to Cid, shooting her a glare.

“It is when you’re in my house, Dollface,” Cid shot back. Then she looked to Hunter as well as the others, telling them, “I'm talking a mutually beneficial arrangement. You make money, I make money, and I watch your back. With the heat on you, it's the best option you've got.”

Still suspicious of the Trandoshan, Kimber cast a look to Hunter, silently showing him she didn’t like the idea. The others, however, just appeared indifferent.

Hunter released a sigh and said back, “I guess we’re in.”

Kimber had to grit her teeth together to keep from saying something. She didn’t feel good about their arrangement at all, but it seemed Hunter had made up his mind, despite it really being forced by Cid.

“I know you’re in. I just told you you’re in,” said Cid, only making Kimber even more irritated.

Seeing her getting agitated, Hunter gently pulled her aside away from the others and he said quietly to her, “Look, sweetheart, I know you’re not happy about this.”

“You’re right, I’m not,” she snapped. “This is a bad idea.”

“Cid is right: she’s the best option we’ve got and we might not find anything else this easily,” he argued.

“We won’t know unless we try,” she said.

“Kimber, even Rina told me this is the best move,” he reminded her. “Any contacts she or the girls would have would be less reliable than what we need.” He held her arms gingerly and told her, “I know you don’t trust Cid; believe me, I really don’t either…but trust me, all right? This wasn’t a choice I made lightly.”

She sighed loudly in defeat, knowing him asking her to trust him got her every time. “All right,” she conceded.

He rubbed her arms consolingly. “On that same subject, I think you should sit this mission out,” he stated.

“What?” she asked, taken aback.

All of a sudden, Tech appeared beside them, having heard the last thing Hunter said and declared, “Hunter is right, Kimber. Your physical state is still not at peak condition, given what you suffered at the hands of the slavers. If you go on this mission, you will not regain the strength you need to get better and you run the risk of potentially compromising the mission.”

Kimber wanted to argue, but she also knew immediately that Tech and Hunter were right. She was in too much pain to properly function on any mission right now. Even though she hated the idea of the boys going off without her and being separated from them, she knew it was for the best.

“You’re right. I’ll stay,” she said, not attempting to hide the disappointment in her voice.

Just then, her commlink beeped and she heard a familiar female voice come through, “The Koriena Force is approaching Ord Mantell…and by the way, we got a new ride. You’ll know it when you see it. We’d better see you guys at the spaceport, boss lady.”

Taking out her comm, she replied with a pleased smile, “Well, the boys are heading out on a mission, so you’ll get to see them briefly before they take off. We’ll see you soon.” Then she announced to everyone else, “The girls are almost here!”

“Oh yeah! Let’s go!” exclaimed Wrecker, pumping his fist as he almost skipped over to the door. Of everyone there, he was the most excited for the girls to arrive, to no one’s surprise.

The others followed after him, but Hunter and Kimber lingered behind for a moment. “I’m sorry,” Hunter said.

Kimber shook her head. “No, I understand and you’re both right. I’m in no condition to go with you.”

He laid a hand on her shoulder. “At least the girls are here now. That should help keep you occupied.”

“I’m sure,” she replied.

“Hey, dark and broody! Will you and the Missus get a move on already?” cried out Cid from behind the bar.

They both rolled their eyes in annoyance at Cid’s pushiness and left the bar, jogging to catch up with the rest of the squad.

A few minutes passed after the Batch all made it to the spaceport when they saw a ship entering the atmosphere and they were astonished to see a shiny, platinum-colored starship come flying in towards the spaceport.

“If that’s them…they completely missed the point of ‘lying low’,” Echo commented.

Tech tapped some things out on his datapad and then stated aloud, “That is an H-type Nubian yacht, a leisure transport.”

“Hmm curious,” Hunter muttered.

Sure enough, the Nubian starship landed in a port nearby and when they moved closer, they saw the ramp to the ship open up and Rina was standing inside along with Irys.

Upon seeing Kimber, Rina called out, “Told you you hadn’t seen the last of us, boss lady!”

A smile immediately overtook Kimber’s whole expression as the two ladies descended the ramp. “I never doubted you for a second,” she replied, grasping Rina’s outstretched hand.

Right after that, Rina was suddenly swept up off the ground by Wrecker, making her cry out in surprise, and spun in a circle. “Welcome back, Rina!” he exclaimed.

As he set her back down on the ground, Rina grinned and said in return, “Boy, am I glad to see you, Wrecker.”

Irys gave a nod to the other Clones. “A pleasure seeing you all again,” she said. Then she smirked at Tech and added, knowing it was going to get under his skin, “Especially you, hotshot.”

He grimaced slightly. “I wish I could say the feeling was mutual,” he grumbled.

“Where’s Kida and Lex?” Kimber asked.

“Lex is finishing something,” answered Irys.

Then Rina added, “Kida is getting the smol, so she should be out any moment.”

“Smol?” Hunter repeated, confused.

Before anyone could answer, they heard Kida’s voice cry out from inside the ship, “I heard my name, you better not wear it out!”

Then Kimber saw her coming down with little Kori swaddled up in a wrap that she wore around her torso. The fun contrast about her was the fact that she was wearing a leather combat suit underneath the baby wrap and had blasters holstered on her hips. Clearly, being a mother wasn’t going to stop her from being a fighter.

“That’s quite a look for you, Kida. I like it,” Kimber complimented her.

“You know me: everything I do, I do in style,” she said, flourishing her hand.

“Hence why you have one of the shiniest ships in the galaxy, apparently,” Kimber commented.

Kida looked back at the ship and grinned. “Yeah, my dad bought this ship from some higher-ups on Naboo years ago. We had to steal it so we could escape Pantora, so he’s probably going to be mad, but I don’t care.”

“It’s our ship now,” Irys put in.

“My family called it the Paramount, but we felt that didn’t fit for us,” Kida explained, “so we’ve re-christened it the Aurora.”

Rina chuckled and added a bit sarcastically, “Because we’re such a bright and colorful group.”

“I love it. It’s perfect,” Kimber replied proudly. She then looked down at the little baby nestled up against Kida’s chest, his golden-brown eyes looking up at her with curiosity. “Hello again, little one,” she said, caressing the blonde fuzz on his head as light as a feather.

When she turned to look at the Clones, she had to suppress a laugh at the looks of absolute stunned shock she saw on their faces, their widened eyes looking like they were about to pop from their sockets.

“Um…why does Kida have a baby?” inquired Wrecker.

Nonchalantly, Kida answered with a grin, “This is my son.”

“Your son?” Echo repeated in astonishment.

Omega eagerly ran up right away and to get a peek at the baby and Tech immediately went to typing things out on his datapad.

Rina stepped up and proclaimed, “Don’t worry, guys. Unless you’ve seen Kida naked, the smol’s not yours to worry about.” Then she gestured to the other women and said, “We don’t count either.”

The Clones all furrowed their brows in confusion.

“What? We live together. It happens,” Rina simply said with a shrug. “You’re all brothers. Haven’t you guys seen each other naked?”

Immediately, the others all looked incredibly awkward and refused to look at each other. Kimber once again had to put a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh at how timid the boys were at Rina’s question.

“Well…guess Clones do things differently,” Rina commented.

Hunter was the first of the boys to step forward to see the baby and Kimber noticed his eyes subtly light up at seeing him, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “What’s his name?” he asked Kida.

“Kori. From the word ‘Koriena’,” she told him.

His expression softened hearing the meaning behind the child’s name. “A very strong and fitting name,” he said.

Then Tech spoke up, “Kida, if I may inquire: how old is the child?”

She took a second to think before answering, “A few weeks…almost a month old.”

“And you carried him to full term?” he then asked.

“Yes…,” she replied, wondering where he was going with these questions.

He tapped one last thing on his datapad before declaring with certainty, “Just as I suspected. I know who the boy’s father is.”

Everyone’s heads whipped around in his direction, perplexed. Kida simply folded her arms, interested to see if Tech would correctly deduce the answer, and Kimber was just as curious.

“How could you possibly know that, Tech?” Hunter asked.

Returning his attention to his datapad, Tech explained, “If my calculations are correct, with the child being born nearly a month ago and having been carried the full gestation period of nine months, that would place his conception ten months prior…around the time when we were rescued by the Eradicators.” Then his astute eyes returned to Kida. “And during that timeframe, there was only one male who was ever with Kida alone whose phenotypes are already clearly visible in the baby’s appearance.”

Echo was the first to pick up on Tech’s facts and he was almost struck dumb with shock.

“Rex…!” he gasped out, remembering he had asked Kimber after they had been rescued if there was anything between Kida and Rex after observing their behavior with each other. Then he took notice of the baby’s blonde hair and that confirmed everything. One of his closest brothers was the father of Kida’s child!

“Well, I thought it was obvious,” Tech responded, seeing Echo's astonishment.

The others all turned and looked wide-eyed at Kida, waiting for her to confirm or deny Tech's hypothesis.

She smirked deviously, lifting up a hand and placing a fingertip on her chin. “You certainly live up to your reputation as the exceptionally-minded one, Tech. You’re right,” she confirmed.

“It really is Rex?” Hunter questioned.

“Yes,” she said, “and he doesn’t know yet.”

Then Wrecker, after standing there dumbfounded and speechless, finally spoke, “Wait…so Rex has seen you naked?”

Just as everyone began to realize he didn’t quite understand, Omega only made things worse by saying, “But what does that have to do with the baby? Aren’t all babies grown in tubes?”

Everyone all groaned sheepishly, wondering how they were going to get through this awkward situation.

Irys put a hand to her forehead and muttered, “I forgot she grew up on Kamino.”

Rina leaned over and whispered to Kimber, “You wanna take the lead on this one, boss lady?”

“Not really,” Kimber replied nervously, even though she knew someone had to do it. She stepped forward and went on to say, “Omega, Wrecker…regular humanoid children are created differently than Clones are.”

“They’re made by just seeing someone naked?” Omega inquired, her eyes narrowed in confusion.

Then Wrecker asked along with her, “It’s that easy?”

“N--no, it’s uh…more than that,” said Kimber, scrambling to find the words to help them understand, even though she was desperately not wanting to have this conversation at the moment.

Then Hunter stepped in and said, “A woman isn’t going to get pregnant because you see her naked.”

With a slight amused snicker, Echo then folded his arms across his chest and made the comment, “If that were the case, we would’ve needed a bigger ship by now.”

In response to that, knowing exactly what Echo was implying, a strangled cry emitted from Hunter’s throat that he tried to stifle and Kimber pursed her lips and cast Echo a threatening look that said “I’m going to kill you!”

“Wait, what does that mean?” Wrecker questioned.

To speed things along, Kimber just stated, “Hunter will explain it to you on the way to Corellia, won’t you, darling?” As he stuttered in reply, flabbergasted at her throwing the heat on him, she immediately went on, gesturing towards the Marauder, “Speaking of which, you guys should be going right now, so you’d best be on your way before Cid finds out you’re still here.”

As Echo and Tech simply gave waves to the three Koriena Force ladies, Echo happened to look up at the ship and saw Lex was actually standing at the top of the ramp, leaning up against the wall inside and twirling her vibroblade in her hand, much like what Hunter did on occasion. She was in her usual red tank top, leather corset, black trousers and boots, but he noticed that she now had a full arm glove on her left arm. It was a curious fashion choice, but he thought it was intriguing. Her eyes caught his for a moment and she ceased playing with her knife. There was no emotion in her face; it was just a simple stare as if she was trying to read him for some reason. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, wondering if something was wrong. However, a few seconds later, she just raised up two fingers and gave him a salute. Brushing that off as nothing, Echo returned the gesture with a nod and proceeded to follow Tech towards the ship.

Wrecker directed his attention to Rina, waved at her and said, “I’ll see you later, Rina!”

Rina called back, “At least this time, I’ll be here when you get back.”

“I know! I’m excited!” he shouted over his shoulder, making Rina blush.

Hunter sauntered over to Kimber, a faint displeased look on his face mixed with a devious smirk. “You owe me big time for this, sweetheart,” he said, pointing a finger at her.

She chuckled, knowing he was referring to the earlier topic. “Sorry about that,” she said as he approached. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He placed his hands on her arms and she laid her hands on his chestpiece. “Please be careful.”

“We will,” he said.

“I just…I don’t like the thought of you boys going on a mission without me,” she admitted sadly. “What if something happens to you that could’ve been prevented had I been there? What if something happens to Omega?”

He lessened the distance between them, bringing her close to him and touching his forehead to hers comfortingly. “Don’t think like that, love,” he assured her. “We’ll be okay. Worrying won’t make you feel any better.”

“I know,” she replied, leaning into him a little more. “I can’t help but worry over you just as you worry over me. That and it’s been a long time since I sat out on a mission."

"You're gonna be okay. You've got the girls here now." He lightly nuzzled her. "I'll come back to you."

"You always do."

She leaned in and captured his lips in a sweet parting kiss, savoring the feel of his lips to carry with her through his absence.

After which, Hunter gave Kimber one last loving smile before turning away and jogging after the rest of the Bad Batch. Her hand came up to his credit necklace and clutched it tightly against her chest.

"You two are so dramatic," she heard the voice of Lex speak behind her. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw Lex coming down the ramp to join her and the other girls, a smirk on her face.

"There you are, Lex!" she cried. Then she took notice of the full arm glove Lex was wearing. "That's new," she pointed out.

Lex side-eyed the glove and just shrugged. "A new fashion statement I'm trying out," she said.

"It looks good," said Kimber.

Rina muttered something under her breath and Kimber saw her turn away, lifting her mod up to her mouth. When Kimber watched her, it seemed like something was bothering Rina. Then she looked back at Lex and Lex, too, seemed off and irritated.

"Is everything okay?" Kimber asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, I'm just tired," Lex answered. "I haven't been sleeping well the last few nights."

"If that's true, then you should go rest," Kimber said to her. "We'll have plenty of time to catch up."

Lex simply nodded and obliged without any second thoughts, turning on her heel and going back up the ramp to the ship.

After she left, Rina stated, gesturing with her thumb at the ship, "Well, boss lady, come on up and we'll show you our new digs in the Aurora." Without waiting, she too proceeded up the ramp of the ship.

Waiting until Rina was out of earshot, Kimber asked Kida and Irys, "Are those two all right? They seem…different."

Irys answered her, "They've been fighting recently, to put it simply."

"I wouldn't bring it up to them, though," said Kida. "It's a bit of a touchy subject right now, but they'll be okay eventually."

Kimber didn't like that answer and it made her worried and concerned for her friends. She wanted to talk to Rina or Lex about what was going on with them and find a way to help them. Though, if Kida said they'd get things figured out eventually and not to say anything, then she just had to trust that things would all work themselves out.

Just then, Kori started to get a little fussy and squirmed in his wrap. Kida bent her head down and placed a kiss on top of his head.

"I think it's about time for this little guy to eat," Kida observed. "Let's go in and we can all take time to relax."

"I definitely could use that. My whole body is in a lot of pain, hence why I'm still here," said Kimber as they all made their way up into the ship.

Kida's head whipped over to her. "My dear, if you're hurting, I've got some things that can help. You leave your pain relief to me." Then she said to Irys, "Would you mind feeding Kori for me while I tend to our fearless leader?"

"As long as Rina is the one to put him down for his nap," Irys replied.

"I'll be sure to pass along the message," said Kida.

Kimber giggled to herself. It was good to have her Koriena Force back and it was going to be even better now that they were going to be on Ord Mantell for the foreseeable future.

[vannahfanfics]

Appreciation

Word Count: 1815

Fluff, Humor, Friendship

Summary: Floyd doesn't really get all the fuss about Valentine's Day... until he does.

Just a little story I wrote for the Twisted Valentine’s Exchange about my favorite Tweel appreciating those he cares about!

“Hah? What do you mean, ‘do I have plans for Valentine’s Day’? Is that your way of askin’ me on a date, Crabby?” 

“It’s not and you know it!” Ace seethed, whirling around to lob the basketball that he’d been about to shoot at the hoop at Floyd’s head instead. 

The tall boy ducked it with a mirthful laugh, then laughed again when he heard Jamil yelp in fright several yards behind him. He snickered again when the other boy angrily exclaimed, “Watch it, Ace, you almost beamed me in the head!” Ah, Basketball Club could be a real drag when Floyd wasn’t in the mood, but teasing the two of them always cheered him right up. Ace was particularly easy to rib, excitable as he was. 

“It’s Floyd’s fault! He’s being an ass!” Ace snapped back. 

“When is he not?” Jamil sighed as he carried the basketball back over to them. Instead of giving it back to Ace, he tucked it under his arm and pouted dourly at the redhead. “And I’m sure you said something that he just couldn’t resist teasing you about, anyway. You make it easy.” 

“Hey! I resent that! All I did was ask if he’s got plans for Valentine’s Day.” Ace frowned, then crossed his arms with a huff and glared at Floyd. “I was just curious, that’s all! It’s a perfectly reasonable question to ask.” 

“So, this totally doesn’t have anything to do with the bet you made with Mackerel over whether or not the upperclassmen have little angelfish?” Floyd challenged with a wiggle of his eyebrows. Of course, Ace made a perfectly delightful expression, his mouth dropping open and his eyes blowing as wide as a squirrelfish’s. While Floyd threw his head back, cackling, Ace just frowned deeper. 

“How’d you know about that?!” 

“What a silly thing to bet over,” Jamil sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “As if any of us have the time for that…” 

Floyd laughed for a few seconds more, then looked back at Ace with a breezy sigh. 

“Mackerel’s not very good at keeping secrets,” Floyd explained with a small shrug. “He made the mistake of asking Sea Lion outright and then had to try an’ explain himself when Sea Lion brought out the claws. It’s the best thing I’ve seen in a long time.” 

“Damn Deuce… I shoulda known…” Ace grumbled and slumped his shoulders dejectedly. “Still… I’m glad that I didn’t bet on Leona havin’ somebody. Even if I thought he did, the risk of him killin’ me was way too high…” 

Floyd grinned at the memory of Deuce hightailing it out of the botanical garden with a furious Leona at his heels, hackles raised and spitting curses. Oh, yeah. He’d be replaying that memory for a few weeks. Simply priceless. 

“Well, do you?” Jamil asked abruptly, prompting Floyd to look at him with a raised eyebrow. At his bewilderment, Jamil rolled his eyes and huffily clarified, “Have a little angelfish, that is?” 

“I dunno why everybody’s so curious about somethin’ like that,” Floyd frowned, reaching up to paw at the back of his head. Everybody else seemed to get mighty defensive about it, but Floyd didn’t see the point in evading the question. That seemed like too much effort right now, especially since he had a feeling that Ace would bug him until he squawked. So, he just shrugged again and replied, “I don’t. So, no, I don’t have plans for Valentine’s Day, Crabby.” 

While Ace pumped his fist and muttered excitedly under his breath about how he was gonna “bleed Deuce’s pockets dry,” Jamil cocked an eyebrow at Floyd. 

“You know, Valentine’s Day isn’t just about couples, for a lot of people,” he pointed out. “It’s about celebrating all kinds of bonds. Plenty of people celebrate it as friends, or as family. The holiday can be interpreted as one for appreciating people you care about, in whatever capacity that is.” 

“First I’ve heard of it,” Floyd said, reaching up to lace his hands behind his head. Ace was no longer entertaining him with his funny exaggerated reactions and facial expressions, so this conversation was beginning to bore him. Basketball Club practice was pretty much over, too; maybe he oughta find a nice tree to clamber in and take a snooze. Then again, if Ace and Deuce were gonna be needling the rest of the upperclassmen to find out if they had significant others, it might be worth following them around. He could only imagine the entertaining reactions. 

It was then that Floyd actually processed what Jamil said. Huh. A day for appreciating people that you cared about? That didn’t sound like that much of a pain at all, actually… But everybody knew Valentine’s Day as a couples’ day, right? Surely it wasn’t as big a deal as Jamil was making it out to be. 

“Well, I got my answer,” Ace hummed, picking up another stray basketball and spinning it on his finger with a self-satisfied smirk. “I can’t believe I goaded Deuce into betting you had somebody special. No offense, Floyd, but you just don’t seem like the kind of guy to bother with stuff like that.” 

“Ace, that was incredibly offensive,” Jamil sighed and shook his head. “You make it sound like the guy’s heartless.” 

“I don’t wanna hear shit from you, Schemer Supreme. I know damn well that you ain’t doin’ anythin’, either.” 

“Now I resent that,” Jamil pouted. “I’ll have you know that I sent my little sister a present for Valentine’s Day.” 

So, Sea Snake celebrates Valentine’s Day with his family, Floyd thought. I overheard Sea Urchin talkin’ about callin’ home to his sister and momma, too. And I remember Snapper talking about how he’s gonna make little cards for everyone, and Sea Turtle chimed in about sweets... Seagull was talkin’ to Betta Fish about dressin’ up as that goofy angel thing and shootin’ people with plastic arrows. 

The more Floyd thought about it, the more he realized he’d overheard the last few days. Pretty much everyone he knew had mentioned something or another about Valentine’s Day, and none of it had to do with romantic couples or anything. 

Huh. Seems like a lotta people celebrate this Valentine’s Day thing, huh? With people they care about… 

“Hey, Crabby, Sea Snake,” Floyd piped up suddenly, causing Ace and Jamil to abruptly cease their banter and turn to him with matching curious expressions. “I got a favor I wanna ask.” 

“Well?” Floyd demanded, trying to will away the blush rising to his cheeks but ultimately failing. “You’ve been starin’ at it for over a minute now. If ya hate it that much, I can take it back!” 

Floyd had done his best, all right? How was he supposed to know that Sam’s store would be torn apart in the days leading up to Valentine’s Day? Even with Ace and Jamil to help him, it had been pretty damn difficult to procure gifts for Jade and Azul, so Floyd had been quite proud to find things he’d thought they’d like—some seafood-based snacks, some teas and a terrarium kit for Jade, a collectible coin guide for Azul. Now, he was totally second-guessing himself because they were staring at the small assortment of presents like it was a collection of fish with three heads or something. 

“Hate it?” Azul and Jade asked simultaneously, finally looking up from the table to instead peer wide-eyed at Floyd. The two exchanged shocked glances, then looked back at Floyd, small smiles tugging at their mouths. 

“Of course we don’t hate it, Floyd,” Jade chuckled. 

“Coulda fooled me,” Floyd grumbled, his surly tone belying the relief gushing up inside of him. He’d never really been good at this whole thing, so he’d been afraid that Jamil and Ace’s input hadn’t been enough. Azul and Jade’s smiles didn’t seem to be fake, though—and he knew their fakey smiles better than anyone.

“This is just rather unexpected, that’s all,” Azul said. “You’ve never shown any interest in celebrating Valentine’s Day with us before.” He put a finger on his chin, his smile taking that devious lilt that Floyd knew well. “I have to wonder what’s brought on the change…” 

“I just felt like it, okay?” Floyd shrugged, then raised his arms to lace his hands behind his head. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he glanced down at the gifts. “It’s a day about appreciatin’ people you like, right? Well, I like you two, so I got you gifts. Don’t think too hard about it.” 

“We’ve embarrassed him, Azul,” Jade chuckled. 

His twin was totally right, but Floyd’s face still flared red in indignation. 

“Nuh-uh,” Floyd growled, his sharp teeth showing as he scowled deeply. “‘M not embarrassed. ‘S just your imagination…” Normally, he’d threaten to go a round or two with Jade, but he was trying to suppress his angry urges for once. It wasn’t very appreciative to beat up one’s brother. 

“Don’t tease him, Jade. I’d rather he didn’t fly in a rage; we’ve still got to set up everything for tomorrow night’s Valentine’s Day Mostro Lounge special,” Azul sighed, closing his eyes and holding his fingers to his temple in exasperation. After a second, he opened his eyes halfway and smiled at Floyd. “But our comments haven’t exactly been grateful, so you have a right to be sultry, Floyd. We haven’t even said a proper thank-you, and you’ve clearly put a lot of thought into this.” 

“Clearly,” Jade echoed in agreement. “I feel bad, even if you did this on a whim. I didn’t get you anything.” 

“S’okay,” Floyd shrugged. “I did it ‘cuz I wanted to, not because I want something in return. That’s Azul’s thing.” 

“I feel simultaneously appreciated and insulted,” Azul smiled wryly. “Still, proper thanks are in order. Shall we, Jade?” 

“Indeed.” 

Floyd dropped his arms to blink in confusion, not sure what the two of them were on about. Suddenly, Azul and Jade stepped around the table to both envelop him in an embrace. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” they both smiled brightly at him. 

“We appreciate you, too,” Jade then said. 

“And we appreciate how much you appreciate us,” Azul added with a nod. 

Floyd looked between the two of them, eyes as huge as moons. Then, they scrunched up as they watered. He bit down on his bottom lip as it quivered a little. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he whispered hoarsely, slipping his arms around both of them to pull them a little closer. 

No, Floyd had never been good at it—showing how much he cared. But maybe he was getting better, seeing how happy Azul and Jade were right now. And that was a thought that made him happier than any clam in all the oceans. He'd have to thank Crabby later, he supposed. Right now? He was gonna enjoy this. 

[nightowlfandom]

Ayato Sakamaki- My Only Human

HEY HEY!!

ANON ASKS

Can I make a request from your x -rated prompts. 36, 40, 57 , With Ayato Sakamaki. >.< if you can.

Idea: Maybe the reader, catches a student at the night school flirting and touching him, but when she thought he would shove her off, he doesn't. She gets super mad at him and doesnt talk to him the rest of the day until he comes in her room after school demanding to the what the readers problem is, and it leads to some rough sexy time??

If you cant thats fine >.<

If YoU CaN’t ThAt’s FiNe, PSSSSHH I GOT THIS 

36- That’s it, grab my hair. Yank it, pull me back into your pussy.

40- How do you ride me so good? God damn, you’re gonna break me!

57- Fuck! You’re mine. You’re fucking mine and I’m fucking yours.

CHECKOUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!!!

Leggo!!

...

“Yui, question.” you walked through the halls with your favorite adoptive-cousin. 

“Y/N, Answer!” she giggled in reply. “What’s up?”

“I needed help! Me and this math thing is not a thing.” you glared down at your folder.

“18, 42, 6.9 and X=17.” she instantly filled in the blanks to the questions you hadn’t answered.

“Have I ever told you I loved you?” you faked crying.

“Only always.” she shrugged. “I see the boys beat us here.” she mused, noticing the Sakamaki AND the Mukami brothers in the respective groups by the lockers, right across from each-other.

“Always beating us here, but never offering to drop us off...assholes.”

“Aren’t you the one insisting on Ayato and you arriving at different times?” she raised a brow as you two slowed down in pace.

“I told it it would be better if I arrived a little bit after him after his gaggling fans dispersed.” you half-shrugged. “The last thing I need are his fangirls trying me.” you rolled your eyes.

“Like that girl flirting with Ayato?”

“Exactly...Wait WHAT?” 

Yui pointed in the direction of the Sakamaki brothers. A girl was standing in front of him. Holding her books to her chest with one hand while twirling strands of her hair in another. 

“Julia.” you growled. “She always does this!” you motioned to how ridiculous it was that she always flirted with one of the Sakamaki brothers. Especially the one that was TAKEN!

“Ayato won’t let her even touch him!” Yui tried to console you. 

“You know what, you’re right.” you smiled a little. Everyone knew you two were an item. She wouldn’t dare.

“He loves you and he wouldn’t let her-”

You two watched as Ayato put on a flirtatious smile, crossing his arms in amusement as he leaned against the lockers.

“Maybe he won’t even entertain-”

Julia trailed a finger up his arm, laughing like a hyena.

“Maybe he’ll embarrass her?”

You watched as he took her hand, raised it to his mouth and gave her knuckles a short peck.

“Maybe-”

“Yui I love you, but I’ma need you to stop talking.” your voice kinda cracked. 

You had transferred from day school to night school for him. You had transferred SCHOOLS for him. You dealt with the burden of having to take care of a human girl who was allergic to her own skin (you loved Yui to bits, but damnit if she didn’t get you into trouble all the time) on some days along with dealing with a bunch of perverted, self-important, assholes for him...so why..WHY was he responding to Julia....like he was single.

“I’m going class.” you grumbled. “See you later.”

“Y/N WAIT!” 

...(Meanwhile)

Ayato needed to pass his English Lit. Class project, so of course when that Julia girl offered to type his report for him, he couldn’t say no. He had to pretend he wasn’t disgusted by her if he was going to remain in the top 5% of people with an actual brain. Fuck being like the other students.

“Y/N WAIT!” 

“That sounded like Yui.” Reiji commented. They were surprised to see you bolted down the hallway at full speed with Yui on your tail. She skid to a stop to glare at Ayato.

“You’ve really done it this time.” was all she said before she ran off. “Y/N!! COME BACK!”

“Smooth move, moron.” Yuma called from the other side. “Looks like I get to play knight in shining armor.” he winked.

“Ayato~” Julia got his attention, “make sure to meet me in the library so I can give you your essay.”

“Yeah, sure whatever.” Ayato watched at Yui chased you down the hall.

... (Lunchtime/Free Period)

You sat in the courtyard, sadly staring at a sketchbook page You liked to paint or draw school life in the quad. You had started with a sketch of the Sakamaki brothers, but it didn’t feel right.

You’d probably get in trouble, but you just had to draw Yuma Mukami who was sitting by the fountain. You looked up every so often, hoping he didn’t see you. 

“Y/N!” You heard. You turned your head to the side to see Ayato sitting with his brothers. “COME OVER HERE.”

Wordlessly, you grabbed your sketchbook...only to walk to the other side of the quad. You sat at another table, focusing back on your artwork.

“Hey...”A shadow was cast over your work.

“Do you mind?” you grumbled. “You’re blocking my light source.”

“Hm, I was just thinking you’d wanna see the reference up close.”

Your head darted up to see Yuma, standing in front of you. “May I sit.”

“Do whatever you want.” you grumbled. “I don’t care.”

Ayato watched from the other side of the court yard as that smug playful bastard took your sketchbook from in front of you and began flipping through it. Why hadn’t you sat with him today?? That Mukami dickwad had better not touch you.

He watched as Yuma flirted with you, and thankfully you didn’t seem to fall for his charms. Though that half smile you gave when he gave you a flower that had been growing nearby was enough to make him angry. 

“AYATOOOO~” Julia practically threw herself into the spot where you usually sat when you sat with him. “I finished your report!”

“Great. Sure, whatever.” he glared potholes at Yuma.

“So...do you wanna eat lunch together?”

“That’s nice, Maria.”

“It’s Julia...”

“Sure whatever.”

(Meanwhile)

“There’s that smile.” he winked as you looked at the flower. 

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Also, next time you draw me...let’s have it be a nude painting huh?” He winked, getting up.

“Gross.” you scoffed, standing up yourself. “See you in Biology.” you cringed.

“Y/N!” you heard Ayato’s voice call again. Just ignore him...(Read more below the break)

... (Smut warning)

When you got home, you locked yourself in your room. You had told Yui to not bother trying to make you feel better, because it wouldn’t work. You had just finished your homework when-

“Y/N! LET ME IN!” Ayato angrily knocked at the door. When he didn’t hear anything back, he decided that the window would have to suffice. “FINE! YOU LEAVE ME NO CHOICE.”

“Oh shit!” you began to run towards the window, hoping to shut it when Ayato practically appeared out of nowhere with a frown on his face.

“Why have you been ignoring me?” he glowered. When you didn’t answer, he grew more agitated. “Y/N, Don’t make me ask again.” Still nothing. “Y/N, You have three seconds to tell me-”

“Why don’t you ask Julia!” you finally snapped. “You sure seem to like flirting with HER.”

“What? I’d never flirt with that disgusting-”

“SO KISSING HER HAND THIS MORNING WASN’T FLIRTING! Yui and I saw you! She touched your arm and you didn’t even move!” you accused. 

“Y/N, let me explain!”

“YOU DON’T NEED TO! You don’t love me anymore!” you pointed. “So go be with her! Go flirt with her! Go and spend time with her because that all you seemed to be interested in doing today!”

Ayato gasped, he finally realized what Yui had been talking about when she said ‘You really done it this time.’ He hadn’t even realized it, but he had been busy with Julia all day that by the time he got free time. He thought-

“You gonna let me talk now, Human?” he used the pet-name he coined for you. “I don’t love Julia. And I wasn’t flirting with her because I don’t love you.”

“Huh?”

“She was doing my English Lit. paper and I had to make her think she was worth my time.” he explained. “She had to think I was actually interested in her or else she’d make a scene. She knew what this exchange was. A litle bit of attention and that A+ was as good as mine. I passed by the way.” he winked.

“S-so, you don’t love her?” you wiped your eyes.

“Of course not! How many times have I told you that my heart only belongs to you?” He asked. “Idiot.” he shook his head with an amused smile. “As if that plain, lowly human could ever compare to my own personal descendant of the goddeses that made this wicked world.” he bit his lip. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was running out of time. I would have told you, had you sat with me at lunch today.” he rolled his eyes. “...Y/N, please accept my deepest apology. I wouldn’t hurt you...unless you asked.” he wiggled his eyebrows at the last part. “Now come here.”

He grabbed your waist and pulled you towards him, taking you in a long drawn out kiss. He purposefully moaned in your mouth, laughing maniacally through each peck.

“Me, and that disgusting excuse- how laughable.” he began kissing down your neck. “I guess I’ll have to show you that you’re mine and will only ever be mine.” 

“Ayato~” you whimpered. 

“Shush.” he kissed you again. “ Fuck! “ he kept kissing your lips “You’re mine. You’re fucking mine and I’m fucking yours. .” He backed you up towards the bed. “Usually I’d ask you to suck my dick first, but I want everything to be about you.” he made you sit down. “Aww, you didn’t take off your uniform, so I can take your panties off right now.” he smirked.

Had he lost his mind?!?

“Have you lost your mind?!?” your legs shook as your panties were discarded who knew where. 

“I’ve always wanted to defile you while you were wearing it, so you can think of me every single time you put it on. Mmmmff-” he buried his head between your legs, exploring your depths with his tongue.

You took in a sharp breath, instantly arching your back in his favor. Good, that was his invitation to go forward. “Y/N, you taste so fucking good-” he laughed gleefully. “I wanna bite your clit and taste the blood right from your naughty place.” he moaned, lashing his tongue against your heat. 

“Ayato, It feels so-” you mewled. “M-more, please?”

Hearing this, he went feral. He dug his nails into your thighs, sucking harshly at your slit. You had to hold the back of his head to stay vertical, your hands tangled through his lush hair.

“ That’s it, grab my hair. Yank it, pull me back into your pussy-mmm. “ he couldn’t even finish his sentence. He was so hungry that not even a snide comment could leave his lips while he tasted you. He’d never do this with anyone else, love anyone else. He was having too much fun worshipping his beautiful human. 

“Ayato- I’m gonna c-cu-”

“Cum. Let me taste you. Let me feel it against me, let me drive my fangs into your thighs while you cum so you can feel what true ecstasy feels like.” 

You felt yourself unravel, only to feel those fangs dig into your left thigh. “Ungh! Ayato!!” you cried. 

“Fuck, Y/N.” he lapped up your blood. “It tastes even better when you’re cumming.” he bit his lip. “I wanna feel you wrap around me.” he crawled over you, capturing your mouth in a long, messy kiss.

You were surprised when he moved you two so you were straddling him. “Undo my jeans, take what’s yours, Y/N.” he bit his lips. 

You shyly unbuttoned his jeans and pulled then down along with his boxers. You were welcomed by a very obvious hardon. 

His cock slapped against his stomach as it was set free. 

“C-can I, touch?”

“It’s yours.” he winked. “Do whatever you want to me.”

You began stroking him, coaxing a low satisfied moan from your lover. You wanted to be mean and leave him but who were you kidding, you both needed it.

“Is it too forward to ask you to ride my cock?” he asked, biting his lip. “Please?”

He caressed your thighs, coaxing you to slip his dick along the perimeter of your slit. You met his eyes, but could only shyly look away.

“Oh Goooodd-” he sucked in air as his dick slipped inside. You shy rocked your hips, coaxing another moan out of him. His hands rested on your thighs. “Shit, Y/N, Why are you so fucking- Ungh...Shit I can’t take much more.” he thrusted his hips upwards. 

A small gasp hitched in your throat, followed by many as he thrust himself in and out of you. You wanted some sort of control too, so you rolled your hips even more against him. “Shit. Ayato~” you moaned. “Fuuuh-”

“Why would I want anyone else when you’re here with me.” he spoke. “Why would I NEED anyone else!” he growled. “You’re mine! I’m Yours, that’s how to fuck it should be!” he seethed. “Fuck your pussy feels so good.”

He was absolutely right, you didn’t think even washing this uniform would get his essence out of it.

“Shit!!” Ayato threw his head back, moaning like you had never seen him moan before. You didn’t even think he could even make such a face. “Y/N!!! “ he cried. “I fucking love you so much, Fuck, S-shit!! Fuck say it back, please.”

“Ayato,” you felt his cock twitch inside. “I love you-haah-aah!”

“ How do you ride me so good? God damn, you’re gonna break me! “ he cried, digging his nails into your thighs. “Fuck Y/N this is what you to do me!!”

You both were loud, sensitive, and on the brinK of breaking.

“I’m gonna CU---AAAHH FUUCCK!” you felt his warmth spill inside you. You were taken aback by him wrapped a hand around your neck and pulling you down to kiss you abruptly. He moaned loudly into your mouth, crying in euphoria as he bottomed out inside your wetness.

“Y/N!” he cried once more. “Fuck I love you.” his face twisted in pleasure, those usually stern eyebrows going soft. “I fucking love you. My human, My only human~.” he hugged you close.

“Ayato~” you replied just as wantonly. “I love you.” you whimpered.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook for ignoring me today, now it’s my turn to get revenge.” you heard his breathless laugh. “Shall we continue?”

(I.....AM SO SORRY FOR THIS)

[mypoisonedvine]

peaches & cream || soft!dark Jake Wyler x reader

for @stargazingfangirl18​'s 5k challenge! I used the prompt, "the town golden boy isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks."

word count: 3.6k

warnings: smut (noncon), stalking/obsession, some degradation/negging (but lots of praise during the actual smut), kinda yandere vibes?, touch of breeding kink at the end, definitely flirting with the boundary between soft!dark and regular dark but I like to think it’s a fine line

“Sorry, but that’s a seasonal flavor,” the girl at the counter explained in a snarky monotone.

“Well, yeah, but isn’t it still… the season?” you pressed; normally you weren’t the sort of person to argue with a cashier over a milkshake, but the look she was giving you made you feel like she was holding out on you— especially when the promotional poster for the very thing you were trying to order was just behind her head, and said the flavor was available for two more days.

“We’re out,” she answered firmly, but then her face suddenly shifted to a much more pleasant expression as you heard the chime of the front door opening behind you.  

You felt his body hovering behind yours just as his hand laid on the counter beside you, caging you in.  It was even more unsettling with the context that there was a whole line of people waiting behind you already.

“I’ll get your usual,” the girl promised to the man beside with a flirtatious smile as she disappeared to the back, returning almost instantly with a shake in her extended hand.  “Peaches and cream milkshake— extra whipped cream, no cherry.  Enjoy!”

Your eyes widened at the reading of your own order.  “I thought you were out!” you protested, going completely ignored.

"If you were my girl, this sort of thing wouldn't need to happen."

You recoiled from Jake's voice in your ear, and he smiled in spite of your snarl, bringing the straw to his lips slowly.  With a shudder you walked away, deciding it was probably better to forgo a milkshake anyways— especially if it was a chance to avoid everyone’s favorite senior, the football king who basically owned the whole town for no other reason than being good-looking, athletic, and allegedly “charming” or whatever.

Of course, he followed you, sitting across from you in a booth and silently shooing his posse of fellow teammates to go off and give you two some space.  If only he would give you space.

“We can share,” he offered as he held the milkshake out towards you.  “I know it’s your favorite… it’s mine too.”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” you explained quickly as you pulled a book out of your backpack, intent on ignoring him since you couldn’t physically force him to leave.

He shrugged and returned to sucking on the straw, watching you unwaveringly as you tried to read your book— staring at the page was going well, but you couldn’t seem to actually get any words down.  Had you forgotten English as a written language or something?

“Could you leave?” you finally asked as you groaned and looked up from your book.  “You’re distracting me.”

“I’m literally just sitting here,” he reminded you.

“And it’s distracting!”

He smirked proudly.  “My presence tends to have that effect on people.  Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You rolled your eyes, burying your face back in your book.  “You know, you may have everybody else fooled, but someday you’re gonna have to leave this pathetic little town and go into the real world where throwing a ball isn’t a career and nobody fawns over you just because you have the audacity to be attractive.”

He chuckled lightly.  “Right, because you have those big city dreams of yours, but believe it or not some of us like this ‘pathetic’ little town.”

“Well, of course you would,” you snorted.  “Your dad’s the mayor and your girlfriend’s the head cheerleader.”

“My ex-girlfriend,” he corrected, finally getting your attention enough to make you shut your book.

“What?” you blurted out.

“Yeah, she dumped me,” he explained plainly.

“Why would she do that?” you asked, making him look much too proud of himself again.  “Finally snapped out of the brainwashing, huh?” you added, effectively killing his smug expression.

“I guess you could say that.  She met some college guy from out of town… I think her parents liked me too much, she needed a bit more rebellion.”

“Well, my condolences to you,” you smiled, “and my congratulations to her.”

“I thought you hated her,” he scoffed.

“Well, now she and I have something in common: a complete lack of interest in you!”

“I mean, I wouldn’t go that far,” he smirked, “she still comes over every now and again to suck my cock.”

You choked on nothing, face getting warm at his crude language.  He didn’t talk like that with anyone else; it was so cruel the way he kept everybody in town under his spell except you, the way he let you in on his real darkness with no one else to confide in or believe you.  

It was so fundamentally lonely, being the one person who wasn’t in love with Jake Wyler.  It was even worse being the one person Jake Wyler loved.

At least, that was the word he used multiple times in his semi-anonymous letters, his incessant calls and emails, his speeches outside your window.  He’d actually cooled off lately, you wondered if maybe he had finally let go of this ‘the one thing I can’t have’ obsession and learned to appreciate his girlfriend (who, for all her personality flaws, was objectively gorgeous, and seemed to at least be nice to him if nobody else).

But now that she left him (which you were still trying to process, honestly), you were surprised he hadn’t already moved on to the next best wannabe model and/or reinstated his campaign to win you over.

Then again, the look in his eye kind of made you think you were about to witness the second one.

“You know, when she does come over, I can only ever finish because I’m thinking about you,” he revealed in a low voice.  You grimaced and slid out of the booth, stuffing your book into your bag and barely managing to throw him a goodbye before you dashed out.  

It wasn’t like you really thought you could get away from him— he had made it clear over and over that you couldn’t— but the idea of being crammed in that booth with him, surrounded throughout the diner by his adoring fans who somehow didn’t manage to overhear him when he said those awful things, made you feel nauseous.

What you should’ve considered was that, fans or not, those people were witnesses, and now that you were running out into the dark streets of the town and he was chasing after you, you didn’t have any.  It was just you and him, and when you turned into an alleyway to try to get home faster, even the dim glow of the streetlights couldn’t see you anymore.

“Hey,” he stopped you with a tight grip on your arm, pulling you back into him.

“Let me go!” you whined, trying to tug yourself away but only ensuring that his hand would leave a bruise on your arm.  

“I will when you just hear me out, okay?” he hissed, spinning you around to look up at him.  "Why don't you just give me a chance?  Don't you wanna be popular?" 

"I don't want to be anything that requires being within ten yards of you!" you spat.

He seemed bewildered, but you knew he wasn’t actually that stupid.  "Why?"

"Because you know why!"

He sighed, slumping his shoulders a little.  "Are we still on that, really?  I told you, you should take it as a compliment.  You know how many girls would kill to catch me jerking off in their panties?"

"You're sick, Jake,” you sighed, “and you're really good at hiding it from everyone else but I know what you really are.  You told me you needed help with algebra and I actually believed you, for months you were lying to me to get close so you could perv on me when you already had a girlfriend and two side chicks anyways— god, Jake, you're crazy!"

You yelped when he pinned you to the wall, blue eyes darker than ever.  "I really, really hate that word."

Against the wall, your back straightened as you felt the tone shift completely for a moment before he was back to his jovial self again, giving you a somber but almost-genuine smile.

“The only kind of crazy I am is crazy about you,” he defended with a laugh, leaning in a little closer.  “Why can’t you see that?”

As his eyes moved from your own to your lips, a renewed sense of fear shot through you.  “Jake…” you mumbled, apparently your feeble attempt to ask him to stop.

“Just one kiss,” he bargained, “and then I’ll let you go.  Okay?  That’s all I need.”

“N-no,” you whimpered, turning your head away as he leaned in even further.  “Stop.”

“Come on, it’s just a kiss, baby,” he cooed.  “Then you can leave.  Hey, you might actually like it.  You know, I think that’s what you’re really scared about… and I get it!  When I first realized I was in love with you, it was scary for me, too— I mean, I’m the most important guy in town and you’re just some bookworm, it’s sort of social suicide for me so I had a lot to worry about.”

There he went with his negging again, trying to bring you down to his level.  Your brain knew that, it saw right through it, but your gut still sank with doubt.

“But I know now that love is nothing to be afraid of,” he concluded.

“No, Jake,” you whispered, feeling tears well in your eyes, “I’m afraid that you’ll hurt me if I don’t do what you want.”

“Well, that is something to be afraid of,” he replied with the coldest laugh you’d ever heard; you didn’t hear any agreement, but the lack of denial was deafening.  “So just be my good girl and let me kiss you…”

You swallowed dryly, your eyes wide open and searching for anywhere to look but up at him.

He was so close now that his lips brushed against yours with his command: “say it.”

You stammered over your breath, not sure exactly what he was asking for, and you winced as you felt his grip tighten on your arms.

“Say, ‘kiss me’,” he clarified in a harsh whisper.  “Say, ‘please’...”

“Please,” you repeated awkwardly, hearing it in your voice but so clearly not your own words, “kiss me.”

He let his mouth intertwine with yours and your eyes were still wide open as he let his own fall shut, moving his hands to clutch your face gently instead as you gave a weak effort to kiss him back.

Objectively, he was good at this.  A lot of things were objectively true about Jake: as much as you forced yourself not to see it, he was handsome; as much as it didn’t really matter to you, a boycotter of all things sports, he was talented; and, as much as no one else realized it, he was completely deranged.  For every word of kindness from him there was another of anger.  For every love letter in your locker, there was a threat left scrawled on crumpled paper inside your bedroom, just so he could remind you that your parents would let him into the house if he asked and never question it.

Which was why it was extremely important that you did not enjoy this kiss.  You needed to hate the way his fingers traced over the pulse in your neck, the way his tongue tickled yours, the way his teeth just barely grazed your lip until your knees went a little weak.  

But wow, there was something primally satisfying about melting into his arms, feeling his strength support you like it was nothing when he held your waist and pulled you closer.

You could almost forget that it was him.  But then he mumbled your name into the kiss, nearly moaned it in fact, and it pulled you back to reality.  With a gasp, you pushed him away and blinked your eyes open, not even realizing you’d closed them; hating how quickly you’d started to give in to him.

“There, one kiss,” you mumbled, wiping your mouth with the back of your sleeve.  “I’m gonna go home now—”

“You can’t be serious,” he laughed incredulously.  “You’re gonna kiss me like that and tell me you don’t feel this, too?  We’re so meant for each other— we even order the same milkshake!”

“That doesn’t matter!” you denied.

“I love you!”

“That doesn’t matter either!”

You turned to leave but he grabbed you again from behind, covering your mouth with his hand when you opened your mouth to scream.  “Don’t fucking talk to me like that,” he hissed in your ear, “and don’t walk away from me.”

Fighting against his grip did nothing but exhaust you: he only needed one arm to hold you back as he dragged you deeper into the alley.  Your legs swung wildly and landed a kick to his shin, and he plugged your nose while he was covering your mouth so you couldn’t breathe.

“Listen to me, you stuck up little bitch,” he growled.  “I’m really sick of this ‘hard to get’ act.  I know you want me.  So shut up and let me show you what you’ve been missing out on, okay?  You gonna be good?”

In that moment, you would’ve agreed to anything for a chance to fill your lungs with fresh air, and so you nodded, the back of your head rubbing against his chest.

“You gonna be nice and quiet so nobody catches you getting fucked like a whore in this alley?”

Another nod, more feverish than the last, ended with a sharp inhale as he let go of your nose.  But he was still covering your mouth, his arm around you now feeling less like restraint and more like an embrace.

"I've wanted you for so long, you can't even imagine," he explained softly as he leaned down and kissed your neck, gripping your waist tighter.  "You and this perfect body of yours.  This smart little head that thinks too much…"

You swallowed dryly as his hand trailed lower.

"This pussy you've been hiding from me for much too long," he added darkly, roughly shoving his hand up your skirt.

You whined behind his hand but he didn’t seem to care; he pulled your skirt up and grinned at the sight of your panties— because he recognized them.

“I remember these,” he purred.  “They look good on you, baby, but they looked better covered in my come.”

Your cheeks burned with shame— you already hated yourself for still wearing the pair he’d tampered with, but it was harmless after a few runs through the washer, right?  You weren’t going to stop wearing your favorite panties just for him, that would mean he won, in a sense; or, that’s what you told yourself to justify not burning them.

“Don’t worry, they’re gonna be soaked by the time I’m done with you,” he purred, slipping two fingers between your legs and growling slightly.  “Well, actually, you’ve already done a lot of the work for me.”

He pulled the fabric aside and explored your pussy instead, tightening his grip over your mouth as you made little muffled yelps.  The rough pads of his fingers found and targeted your clit instantly, that megawatt smile pressed against your ear as he started to rub your bud harder.

“Mm, feels good, huh?” he taunted, moving even faster as your hips jolted unintentionally.  He stopped only to bring the fingers to his lips, humming at the taste of you which he sucked off of them.  “So sweet, babygirl— better than any peaches and cream milkshake, that’s for sure.”

The wet fingers trailed down your body again, finding your entrance that he suddenly pushed into; it was a little too much without any warning and it made your eyes shoot wide open, a squeak barely escaping your throat.

"Just as tight as I imagined, baby,” he sighed, “all those times I used your panties, or hooked up with somebody who almost looked like you from behind.  You’re gonna feel so good on my cock, I know you want it so bad.”

He took his fingers out of you to reach back and open his belt with one hand, the sound of the buckle matched in upsettingness only by the sound of his jeans sliding down to his thighs.

You heard your own breath loud and heavy against his hand as you felt his hard cock press against your thigh, a drop of precum smearing on your skin.  Your breathing halted suddenly, though, when he slid himself between your legs to rub his cock over your exposed and swollen pussy.

“Oh, babygirl, you really are too good to me,” he grinned, kissing your ear tenderly.  “So fucking wet and ready for me, huh?  You need it that bad?  You’re gonna get it, baby, ‘m gonna give it to you so good…”

Bracing yourself as best you could, you felt the head of his cock push against your entrance before he slammed in all at once, making you hiss in pain.

“Oh god,” he groaned, “fuck, you’re so warm…”

Already he was fucking into you roughly, pumping faster and deeper, paying no mind to your choked sobs of pain from the wide stretch.  Even when it stung it felt oddly good, and the underside of his cock seemed to slide perfectly over your g-spot with each movement until your eyes began to roll back in your head.

“So fucking good,” he moaned hoarsely as he braced you against the brick wall for leverage, reaching back down with his free hand to rub your clit again.  He chuckled when your legs quivered, and he must have felt your walls tighten around him, too.  “I wanna hear those pretty moans, baby, if I take my hand away are you gonna be good?” he asked darkly.  You nodded, enjoying the brief feeling of freedom that came from not having his hand over your mouth anymore.  But then again, it was humiliating that now he could hear your panting breaths, your desperate mewls that you failed to swallow down.

He made a sound that was almost like a laugh as he watched you squirm in his arms, one more way he had to lord this all over you, as if forcing you to take him in an alley wasn’t enough on its own.

His breath against your ear was hot and strained, each meeting of your hips to his accentuated with a little grunt from him.  It didn’t help at all that his fingers were rubbing you just right, with so much skill that you wondered if he’d somehow figured out how you touched yourself when you needed to get off.  Honestly, you wouldn’t put it past him to have spied on you before, even if you couldn’t figure out when or how.

The hand that used to cover your mouth slid up under your shirt and pulled your bra down, a large, rough hand groping each breast and pinching your nipples until you bit down on your lip to stay quiet.  For all the mocking and teasing he’d done before, he was pretty direct now— like he was trying to make you come as fast as possible, overloading your body with sensation.  

And did he have to be so fucking good at it?

“I know you’re close, babygirl,” he whispered in your ear, “just let go…”

“Jake, please,” you sobbed, too far gone to appreciate that no begging would make him stop now.

“Come for me,” he demanded roughly, fucking you even faster as he sucked a mark onto your neck, and finally it all came crashing down with a choked-out cry of his name and a gush of warmth dripping out around his length.

“Ohh fuck, there you go, fuck it feels good when you come for me,” he grunted, thrusting even faster.  “You’re gonna milk my cock with that pretty pussy, babygirl— you’re gonna make me come…”

“J-Jake, not inside!” you interjected, getting his hand back over your mouth in return.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed, “waited too long for this to pull out now.  Feels too fucking good.”

Behind his hand, the difference between whines of hatred and moans of pleasure was irritatingly subtle.

“I love you,” he reminded you in a voice exhausted yet heavy with desire, “so fucking much…”

A few more erratic, brutal thrusts accompanied by heavy pants and he was gone; you could feel his cock pulsing with each rope of come that filled you, so deep that your head fell dejectedly with the realization you had no hope of washing it out now.

His hand fell from your mouth but he didn’t pull out for another few moments as he caught his breath, gently peppering your neck and cheek in slow kisses.  “Baby,” he finally sighed, breaking the crushing silence, “you’re so fucking perfect.  I knew you were made for me.”

I hate you, you wanted to cry out, but words escaped you as he hugged you tightly and pulled your panties back into place, soaking them with his come as it leaked out of you just like he’d promised.  He stuffed his cock back into his jeans and helped you adjust your clothes back to looking almost presentable, finishing it off by turning you around and smiling at you with serene pride before kissing your forehead.

"You're gonna make such a beautiful prom queen," he cooed, “especially if you’ve already got a nice little bump showing…”

His hand rubbed beneath your belly button for emphasis, making you whimper and force your eyes shut as tears rolled down your cheeks.

"Shh, don’t cry, baby,” he soothed, kissing your cheek softly.  “Trust me, you're gonna love being my girl."

[fics-n-stuff]

A Nice Christmas

Thanks to @gayhistorynerd for the prompt, see here (I kind of deviated from it a little maybe a lot but the story still stemmed from this prompt)

Pairing: Wilhelm × Simon

Summary: Wilhelm may have denied being in the sex tape, but that doesn't mean that the world has forgotten. The Christmas break proves to be difficult for both Simon and Wilhelm, one suffering from ongoing harassment and the other feeling completely isolated, and they find that they can't help but be drawn back to each other.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: This took me so long to write because I got writer's block right after I started it. This doesn't have a super happy ending because I wanted to try and keep it pretty realistic, but it is pretty sweet and wholesome.

Taglist: @probablyprocrastinatingrightnow @rika90 @angelwilhelm

Wilhelm had never felt more alone than he did being home for Christmas break. He spent as much time as was physically possible holed up in his bedroom, not wanting to see or talk to anyone, especially not his mother. He hadn’t turned his phone on for three days, he had bitten his nails down to the nailbeds and he hardly had any appetite. The ache in his chest was constant and unyielding.

He lay in the dark most of the time, his curtains closed throughout the day and only sometimes opened at night to let the moonlight in. Besides that, he didn’t have much idea of how time was passing.

He did know that it was Christmas eve though. And it must be the morning because nobody had come to drag him out of his bedroom to join the celebrations. A cursory peek around the curtain confirmed that, as Wilhelm saw that the sun hadn’t even fully risen yet.

A deep breath settled the stone in his stomach, and he reached for his phone with a shaky hand.

When the device turned on it immediately started going crazy with notifications, and Wilhelm felt his heart rate increase with every buzz.

5 messages from August

Ignore.

10 messages from Mamma

Ignore.

2 missed calls from Felice

Wilhelm paused in swiping away the notifications. Felice had called him twice and sent him three messages. He clicked on the message notification, sitting back against the wall and holding in a breath without realising it.

Felice: Hey Wille, how are you feeling being home?

Felice: I just wanted to check in but I can’t get a hold of you, I hope you’re doing alright

Felice: You probably don’t want to talk but you can call or text me whenever you do

Wilhelm sighed. Of all the people that he thought that he could depend on, Felice was the only one that he still had. He swallowed the lump in his throat and called her back.

It rang for a while before she answered, and he’d almost decided to hang up the call when it stopped ringing.

“Wille, good morning.” Felice greeted, cheerful but clearly tired. “Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah, merry Christmas Felice.” Wilhelm replied feebly. His voice was hoarse from disuse.

“Are you alright? Do you want to talk about something?”

“Uhm, I- I don’t know, I just... I don’t know.” He stuttered, wrapping his free arm around himself.

“Okay, well, what are your plans for today?”

“I’m not sure, I haven’t really been talking to anyone. What, uh, what are your plans?”

“Oh, you know, just the usual. We’ll watch Kalle Anka's Jul and play some games before dinner, then we’ll open presents.” She explained. The tinny sound of her voice through the phone was actually quite calming.

“What about for the rest of the break?”

“Um, I’m going to New York to see Maddie for New Year, so that’ll be fun. And I’m going back to Bjärstad on Boxing Day to see Sara. I’m gonna stay there just for one night.”

“So you’ve been talking to Sara a lot then?” Wilhelm questioned, moving to bite at his almost non-existent nails.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Has she said anything about Simon? Do you know if he’s alright?” His words came out more rushed than he had intended. Clearly, he was more eager for some sort of information on Simon than he had thought.

“Um, she hasn’t said much but I think he’s pretty okay.” Felice replied, but it was followed by a small sigh that let Wilhelm know that there was more to the story. “Sara says that things have mostly gone back to normal, but Simon goes out a lot less and she’s had to make her Instagram private. I think they’ve had a few people show up at their house.”

Wilhelm swallowed hard, a feeling of guilt crawling under his skin. Simon’s Instagram account had been private ever since the video had been leaked, so it seemed that now people had found Sara’s too. They had attention on them that they had never signed up for, and Wilhelm knew that it was his fault and he felt terrible for that.

“Okay.” He replied shakily. There was a short silence before Felice spoke again.

“How are you, Wilhelm? Really?” She asked.

“Lonely.” He answered. “Listen, I have to go. I need to take a shower before someone comes demanding that I take part in the Christmas celebrations.”

“Alright well, call me back whenever, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Bye, Felice.”

“Bye, Wille. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

Wilhelm ran a hand over his face, letting out a groan of frustration and sadness. Why couldn’t he just be a normal kid?

He stared down at his phone in his lap, gnawing at the nail of his right thumb in contemplation. With a shaking breath and trembling fingers, he picked it back up, opened his conversation with Simon and typed a short message. He dropped his phone in mild panic as soon as he hit send, and rubbed his hand over his chest as he took a deep, steadying breath.

+ + +

“Simon, wake up. Rosh and Ayub will be here soon.” Sara’s voice stirred Simon from his sleep and he rolled over to look at her. She was already dressed.

“What time is it?” He asked with a yawn.

“Nine o’clock. Get up and come help with breakfast.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m getting up.”

Sara rolled her eyes and left the room, and Simon reached out to his bedside table blindly until his hand landed on his phone. He squinted at the screen as he sat up, faltering when he saw the notification on the screen.

Wilhelm: Merry Christmas Simon

He felt his heart race as he stared at the screen, only snapping out of it when he heard Sara shouting at him from downstairs. He blinked, dropped his phone and set about getting dressed.

Every Christmas eve since they were ten, Simon, Sara, Rosh and Ayub would have breakfast together and then go for a long walk. It was tradition for them at this point, but Simon found himself unable to feel excited for it this year. It was all well and good to pretend like life was going on as normal, but it was hard not to feel uncomfortable when people stared at him everywhere he went.

Rosh and Ayub arrived just as he and Sara were finishing up making breakfast, and they exchanged Christmas well-wishes as they sat down to eat.

“You’re being real quiet over there, Simme. You alright?” Ayub asked after a while, and Simon realised that he’d been completely zoned out.

“Sorry, just thinking.”

“About Wilhelm?” Sara questioned. Simon pushed a bite of food into his mouth and shrugged.

“You have to move on, Simon.” Rosh said. “I know you care about him but he’s not worth all the trouble that he comes with.”

“I know. That’s why I ended things.” He replied. “It still sucks though.”

“You’ll get over him eventually.” Sara told him, putting a comforting hand on his for a few seconds before going back to her food. Simon smiled slightly.

He didn’t tell them about the text.

Despite all of that, he was in high spirits when they set out for their walk, happily joking and laughing with his friends, and they made it half an hour before he heard the first comment.

“That’s the guy from the sex tape.” Muttered a girl to her friend as they passed, and Simon felt the smile fall from his face.

“Just ignore them.” Sara told him, wrapping an arm around one of his. He nodded, but it had gotten to him. For the rest of their walk from that point, Simon felt like every person that they passed was looking at him and judging him.

They walked both Rosh and Ayub back to their houses before heading back to theirs just a bit past noon. They had almost gotten home when they were approached by a group of teenagers probably slightly younger than them.

“Are you the guy from that viral sex tape?” One of the boys asked unabashedly, the group coming right up in front of Simon and Sara and blocking their path.

“Uh, I don’t want to talk about that.” Simon replied stiffly, still trying to be polite.

“Oh my god, it is him!” A girl exclaimed.

“Was it actually the crown prince in the video?” Another chimed. Simon felt lightheaded.

“He already said that it wasn’t.” He deflected, trying to sidestep the group.

“Yeah, but there’s a lot of people that don’t actually believe him.” The girl laughed; actually laughed, as if this hadn’t been an earth shattering event for Simon.

“If it wasn’t Prince Wilhelm then who was it in the video?” A boy asked, and that was when Simon spotted the phone filming him and his stomach dropped.

“I’m not discussing my sex life with a bunch of strangers.” He scoffed in disbelief, shouldering his way past the group with Sara close behind him. “Please leave me alone.”

“You could just tell us if it was actually the prince or not.” One of them pressed, the group now following after Simon. “If it wasn’t him then you don’t have anything to hide.”

“Oh my god, did the royal family pay you off? Did they make you sign an NDA!?”

“Were you, like, boyfriends? Or was it just a hookup?”

Simon kept walking, keeping his head down and not answering any of the questions being hurled at him. He could sense that Sara was just as tense beside him. The group followed them for a full block before Simon finally lost his cool and came to a dead stop, turning to face them.

“I’m not going to answer your questions. The fact that you’re following me is not going to make me answer your questions. I’ve had my privacy majorly invaded once already and now you’re invading it again. I’m trying to enjoy Christmas with my sister and you’re chasing me with a camera, I’m sick of people harassing me.” He fumed, making sure to meet the eye of every one of them at some point. “Whatever you choose to believe is not my problem. It doesn’t matter whether you think that the crown prince is telling the truth or you choose to make up some type of theory, I deserve my privacy.”

He didn’t wait for any type of response before he turned around and walked away, thankful to find that they weren’t going to follow him anymore.

“You handled that well.” Sara said quietly once they had turned the next corner. Simon didn’t reply.

When they got home, he went straight upstairs without a word. He slammed his bedroom door shut and buried his face in his pillow, unable to hold the tears back any longer.

By that same evening, the video was viral.

+ + +

I bet that girl was right and the royal family made him sign an NDA

If he didn’t want people to think it was the prince he would have just said that it wasn’t so either the prince was lying or this guy is seeking attention

He’s literally a kid why can’t people just leave him alone??

I don’t care if it was the prince in the tape or not, this guy is hot

The way he said that people are making up theories makes me think that it actually wasn’t the prince in the video

I feel bad for this guy, getting followed around like that must suck

Wilhelm scrolled through the captions and comments on the seemingly endless posts of the video of Simon, feeling like somebody had a vice grip on his heart.

The first time he saw the video had been right after Christmas Eve dinner. He’d had a full blown panic attack and locked himself in the bathroom for half an hour. When he came out, his mother had tried to talk to him about the politics of the situation and he had immediately retreated into his bedroom once again. He missed Erik desperately.

He hadn’t been able to sleep, he'd only gotten about three hours of broken, fitful sleep all night, and now he couldn’t pry himself away from his phone. He knew that it was bad for him, he knew that it was making him feel terrible, but he wanted to know what people were saying.

He had been hesitant to text Simon, especially since he hadn’t received a reply to the merry Christmas text that he had sent in the morning, but in the end he mustered the courage to reach out. He had asked how Simon was doing and apologised for getting him into this situation. He wasn’t surprised when no answer came.

Christmas day was proving to be probably the worst day of Christmas break for Wilhelm. His chest felt like it was bursting open and like it was an empty chasm at the same time. He didn’t eat breakfast or lunch, he didn’t respond to the knocks that came at his door. He felt like he was trapped in a glass box and someone was shaking it.

Wilhelm didn’t know how long he had been scrolling through multiple different social media platforms when his phone buzzed in his hand and an incoming call appeared on the screen. He faltered, sitting up and almost dropping his phone, when he saw that it was Simon. He ran a nervous hand through his hair as he raised the phone to his ear.

“Simon?” He croaked.

“Hi, Wilhelm.” The reply came through the phone, and Wilhelm felt his shoulders relax at the sound of Simon’s voice.

“Hi. H-how are you.” He fumbled, and Simon sighed on the other end.

“I’m okay, I guess. As okay as I can be after... well, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry for putting you in this situation.”

“This wasn’t your fault, Wille.” Simon muttered. “I just wish things were different.”

“Why, um... why did you call?” Wilhelm asked. There was a short stretch of silence that rung in his ears before Simon answered.

“I just wanted to hear your voice, I guess.” He confessed, and Wilhelm couldn’t help the soft smile that pulled at his lips. “Honestly, I was kind of surprised that you didn’t delete my number or something.”

“Why would I have done that?”

“I don’t know, I guess I just thought that you weren’t supposed to have any ties with me since you said that it wasn’t you in the video.” Wilhelm winced at that.

“It's not like my contacts list is available to the public.” He replied, trying to keep his tone light. “I’m not gonna let that kind of thing get in my head again.”

“Is your mum mad?” Simon asked, and now it was Wilhelm’s turn to sigh.

“I’m not sure, I kind of shut myself in my room so that I wouldn’t have to deal with her.” He answered tiredly. “How is your family?”

“Uh, shaken. Sara’s off in her own world with her sketchbooks and mamá can’t go for more than an hour without checking on us both, but we’re handling it.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise.”

There was a silence again. Wilhelm ran his hand across his leg, back and forth in a soothing motion, not sure what he should say but not wanting the conversation to finish. In the end, Simon spoke first.

“Did you mean it, what you said before you left for the break?” He asked softly.

“Yeah, I did.” Wilhelm answered without hesitation. “I know it wasn’t a good time to say it, and you probably didn’t want to hear it, but I just had to say it out loud. At least once.”

Silence again. Wilhelm heard Simon sigh, and pursed his lips nervously.

“I miss you.” Simon said.

“I miss you too.” Wilhelm replied with a nervous yet relieved chuckle. “I miss you a lot.”

Another pause.

“Where do we go from here, Wille?” Simon whispered.

“I don’t know.” Wilhelm mumbled. “But I... I want to fix this. Or at least just try to fix it. You don’t deserve to be harassed like this, and it’s my fault and I feel terrible.”

“It’s not your fault.” Simon reassured with a sigh. “It was everything else. We still didn’t do anything wrong, and that includes you.”

“No, I did. I promised we would be in this together and I broke that promise.”

“I understand why you did it. And I’m not mad at you. Honestly, having thought about it, you probably made the best decision for my sake too. I mean, I’m getting harassed enough as it is already. I can’t imagine what it would be like if you had told the truth.”

“I’m still sorry anyway.” Wilhelm said softly, and Simon chuckled. “So, um, Felice told me she was visiting Bjärstad tomorrow.”

“Yeah, her and Sara have gotten close. It’s nice, you know, that Sara’s made friends. And Felice is cool.”

“Yeah, she’s great.”

There was silence again, and Wilhelm bit at his nails thinking that Simon was done with the conversation.

“Are you alright, Wille?” Simon asked after a while. “I know this is your first Christmas without Erik, and I guess things with your mum might be a little... well, I just hope you’re okay.”

Wilhelm swallowed. He could lie, pretend he was fine and wave away Simon’s concerns, but he knew the lie probably wouldn’t hold up. Or he could tell the truth and admit how painfully lonely he was, how much he hated being home because the palace felt empty without Erik and how much he longed to be with Simon with every fibre of his being.

“I’m coping.” He sighed, settling for a middle ground of vagueness. “It’s lonely here. The ceilings feel too high.”

“Have you had stuff to do?”

“No, not really. I haven’t really been in the mood for Christmas, but I guess none of us are particularly festive this year anyway.”

“Would you - I mean, if you would even be allowed to, but maybe if you could – would you want to come down here for a day?” Simon asked, and Wilhelm could just picture him fidgeting nervously as he stumbled over his words. The image brought a smile to his face.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” He answered softly. “I’ll try and convince my parents.”

+ + +

Going to Simon’s house had been an absolute no go with his parents. “Just too risky” his mother had said. However, with enough persistence, he managed to wear them down to a compromise.

That was how he ended up in a car on his way back to Hillerska the day after Boxing Day. While Simon’s house had been absolutely off the table, it would be easy enough to get back to Hillerska without being seen. The only people who were there during the break were security and the people who came to take care of the horses.

He had been worried at first that the inconvenience of it would make Simon not want to bother, but when he texted to ask if it was okay he had been met with a quick agreement.

A security guard unlocked the door for him when they arrived, sworn to secrecy of course, and he headed up to his room to wait. He didn’t realise he was biting his nails until there was a knock at the door and he was knocked out of his anxious thoughts.

The door opened slowly, and Wilhelm felt like all of the air was knocked out of his body when he saw Simon step inside, dressed in his beloved purple hoodie under the coat that he took off and draped over the back of a chair that was within reach. The door clicked shut behind him, and silence hung in the air.

“Hey.” Simon greeted finally, and Wilhelm took a deep breath as if he was just remembering how to breathe at all.

“Hey.” He echoed. “How are you?”

“Better.” Simon nodded. “Did you get into a fight with your parents?”

“Yeah, kinda.” Wilhelm muttered. “It’s fine though.”

Simon crossed the room and took a seat beside Wilhelm on the edge of the bed, a good few inches of space between them. It felt like miles.

“You look tired.” Simon commented.

“I’ve been having a hard time sleeping.” Wilhelm replied weakly, eyes downcast, fidgeting with his hands. “I get that way sometimes. It’s fine.”

“Is it?”

He looked over to find Simon watching him, and he practically crumbled under his gaze. He took a very unsteady breath and shook his head.

“No, it sucks.” He mumbled. His hand drifted back up to his mouth and he gnawed on the nail of his thumb nervously.

“Wille, you’re bleeding.” Simon said, gently grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand away from his mouth. Wilhelm looked down at his thumb and saw a bit of blood pooling in the side of the nailbed, becoming aware of the taste of it on his tongue.

“Oh, I didn’t notice.”

“How much have you been biting your nails?” Simon questioned, pulling Wilhelm’s hand towards him to get a look at them. Every nail was jagged and uneven, bitten down to stubs. The skin around them had been bitten at too.

“I don’t know, I do it without realising.” Wilhelm shrugged. “Probably a lot.” He resisted the urge to curl his fingers around Simon’s hand and blinked back the tears that threatened to fall.

“You shouldn’t have to bottle everything in, you’re destroying yourself.” Simon murmured.

“I don’t have anyone to talk to.” Wilhelm’s voice broke halfway through his sentence, a single tear managing to fight its way from his eye. “I used to be able to talk to Erik about at least some of it but now he’s gone and I don’t have anyone, and sometimes it feels like the ground is falling out from under me and I just don’t know what to do.”

He didn’t notice that he was hyperventilating until Simon pulled him into his arms. Wilhelm’s chest was tight, rising and falling rapidly against Simon’s body. Simon's arms were wrapped around him tightly, and Wilhelm was suddenly overwhelmed with how much he had been craving a hug as his hands grasped at the back of Simon’s hoodie and he hid his face in the crook of Simon’s neck.

Wilhelm had always been told not to cry. Ever since he was a child, whenever he began to cry he was told to stop. The seed had planted itself in him when he was very young, but the fear of letting himself cry didn’t truly grow until he once saw an article in a tabloid. He was barely eleven and he had fallen and hurt himself at an event. He had hardly cried, just a few tears and red cheeks, but the tabloid had had plenty to say about it. He hadn’t let himself properly cry since, except for when Erik died. Even then, he had waited until he was completely alone before he let his weakness show. But now, with Simon, he felt an overwhelming need to let his tears fall.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered into Simon’s shoulder. He could feel the tears coming out of his eyes but they weren’t falling down his face, instead absorbing into the fabric of Simon’s hoodie.

“It’s okay.” Simon soothed, a hand moving up to stroke over the Wilhelm’s hair.

“I never wanted any of this. I never wanted to be a prince.”

“I know.”

“I just wanted to feel normal. Just for once.” Wilhelm said through his tears. “You made me feel normal.”

Simon furrowed his eyebrows, sympathetic. He loosened his hold on Wilhelm and leaned back, sliding the hand that was on the back of Wilhelm’s head forward to rest against his cheek.

“You made me feel normal too.” He replied softly. “At school I was a social outcast because I’m not rich, and at home I have to take care of my mom and Sara. When I was with you, I didn’t feel like I had to take care of anyone or watch where I was stepping. Well, except that one night.” Wilhelm huffed a slight laugh at the comment, lifting a hand to wipe the tears off of his cheeks. “I’ve never seen you cry before.” Simon commented.

“I’m not supposed to.” Wilhelm replied with an awkward chuckle, his head tipping forward in embarrassment. Simon sighed through his nose and lightly touched his forehead to Wilhelm’s.

“You have to cry sometimes, Wille. Everyone cries.”

“I’m not supposed to be everyone.”

“Okay, but sometimes you need to stop worrying about what you’re supposed to be.” Simon told him. “I know you know that.”

Wilhelm took a deep breath. This close to Simon’s face, he could feel his breathing too. He wanted to kiss him, but he didn’t know if that would be okay. He nodded slightly, covering Simon’s hand on his cheek with his own.

“Yeah.” He breathed.

When Simon leaned forward and connected their lips Wilhelm responded automatically, though it took his brain a few seconds to catch up. Once his brain did catch up, his hand took hold of the back of Simon’s neck and pulled him impossibly closer, holding onto this moment like it was his last. Maybe it would be the last time he got to kiss Simon; he couldn’t know. He hoped it wouldn’t be.

“Thanks for coming to see me.” Simon said when they broke apart.

“Thanks for wanting to see me at all.” Wilhelm replied. “I really missed you.”

Simon hummed, a faint smile playing at his lips. He watched Wilhelm for a few moments before kicking off his shoes.

“Come here.” He said, shuffling over the bed towards the wall. Wilhelm followed suit and allowed himself to be guided down to a lying position, Simon’s chest against his back and arm around his waist. “You need to sleep.”

“It’s the middle of the day.” Wilhelm protested, weak as the protest may have been.

“People have naps all the time, and you know that you need it.” Simon said firmly, adjusting the pillow under his head with his free arm and finding Wilhelm's hand to hold in the other. “It doesn’t have to be for long, okay?”

“Okay.” Wilhelm nodded, feeling suddenly very relaxed. He took a deep breath settling into the comfort and warmth of Simon’s body around his as his eyes fell shut. “This is nice.” He mumbled after a while.

“Yeah.” Simon agreed softly. “Go to sleep, Wille.”

It wasn’t long until he felt Wilhelm’s breathing change, signifying that he had fallen asleep. He smiled, fondly but with an edge of sadness to it, and pressed a light kiss to Wilhelm’s shoulder before closing his own eyes. They would deal with the rest of the world when they woke up.

[havenoffandoms]

Hey congrats on 900 followers! Would I be able to request the touch starved prompt from your list with the pairing Aiden/Lambert please? Love all your writing!

Hello!! Thanks for requesting this prompt and this pairing! I’ve been on a right Lambden kick recently, so I felt inspired. I hope you like it! 

Prompt 13: Touch-Starved

Pairing: Aiden x Lambert

Warnings: None

Prompt List

Lambert was apprehensive about many things concerning Aiden when the two started travelling together. Being stabbed to death in his sleep comes to mind, or having Aiden go all batshit crazy if Lambert dared to beat him at Gwent. Lambert has heard many rumours about Cat witchers in his long life. Cats are batshit crazy. Cats are emotionally volatile. Cats are backstabbing sons of bitches… literally and metaphorically. Cats are bad. Cats are evil, etc, etc. All these rumours circulated in Kaer Morhen long before Lambert even set foot in that ramshackle castle. He was too young to have witnessed the Tournament, but he heard the older witchers talk. Later in his life, when only a handful of wolf witchers were left after the sacking, Eskel gave Lambert a more detailed account of the Tournament.

“The Cats betrayed us, went on a rampage. Killed many wolf witchers in the process. Geralt and I lost many friends that day,” Eskel told him one evening, when the oldest surviving wolf was too far in his cup to notice that he was oversharing. “Radowit’s court mage Astrogarus promised the Cats monopoly on killing monsters within Kaedwen in exchange for attacking the Wolves during the tournament. Turns out Radowit was a backstabbing motherfucker himself. He ordered his soldiers to shoot all of the remaining witchers of both schools in the arena.”

“Lemme guess,” Lambert spoke, his own speech slightly slurred, “pretty boy saved the day?” 

Eskel shook his head. “Fled. Mousesack helped him escape the massacre. Poor bastard never forgave himself for abandonin’ our brothers, but what choice did he have?”

Don’t get Lambert wrong. He’s not saying that Aiden is harmless, far from it. The guy’s lethal with his swords, deadly with a pair of daggers, not to mention a stealthy and clever thief. Aiden is mercurial, hot-tempered and a bit feral when he wants to be, and his morals are at best dubious. Whereas wolf witchers had their emotions beaten out of them at a young age, cat witchers feel too much, too strongly. Lambert’s witnessed Aiden flip tables when peasants beat him at Gwent, but he’s also witnessed the Cat shed a tear after bringing the news to a mother that her son did not survive the ghoul attack two villages down the road. 

Lambert was apprehensive about many things concerning Aiden when the two started travelling together, but the Cat had never ceased to surprise him. The most unexpected trait Aiden has displayed to date is his insatiable need for physical contact. It’s not like Lambert hates being touched - he’s only human, albeit a mutated one, but still human. He enjoys a hug as much as the next person, especially when said hug comes from one of his brothers (or, dare he say, Vesemir) at the end of a long and difficult year on the Path. Lambert has also never begrudged a bed partner a post-coital cuddle session. Aiden’s need for physical contact is… on a whole different level. 

The first time it happened, Lambert almost shoved the Cat off him and sent him packing, until he realised that Aiden was not only hugging him, but clinging onto him. His sharp nails were digging in the soft material of Lambert’s shirt, the fabric creaking in protest under the firm grip. When Lambert looked down, he noticed the pinched eyebrows and tears trailing down Aiden’s face. It wasn’t until a broken sob pushed past the Cat’s lips that Lambert reluctantly returned the embrace, arms wound tightly around Aiden’s trembling body. Aiden eventually settled in the safety of Lambert’s arms, his features softening as he sank back into a peaceful slumber. 

Neither mentioned the previous evening’s impromptu cuddling session, but from that moment one, it was like someone had flicked a switch. Aiden came up with every possible fucking excuse to touch Lambert. Their hands would always accidentally graze each other when they packed up camp, or tacked up the horses. Aiden would bump shoulders with him when they were travelling on foot. If they sat next to one another in a tavern, Aiden would press his leg against Lambert’s, and if they were facing each other, a tentative foot would gently nudge Lambert’s shin and linger there. It’s not like Aiden was trying to hide his intentions, either. They rarely paid for two rooms anymore, because even if they did, Aiden would always end up in Lambert’s bed anyway, arms wound around Lambert’s body like a koala clinging to its mother.

Lambert doesn’t hate Aiden’s need for physical proximity, he’s just… confused by it. Aiden rarely takes any lovers to bed, even though he clearly craves physical intimacy. Lambert is more than happy to cuddle with Aiden, especially when they are forced to sleep under the stars and the early autumn frosts begin to settle over the region. It saves them from lighting a campfire, which may attract the wrong kind of attention to them. That’s all that’s ever transpired between the two, though… cuddling. Lambert enjoys the cuddling as much as Aiden does, but for Aiden it seems to be about more than mere enjoyment. The Cat simply refuses to go without physical intimacy which at times can be… alright, it can feel overbearing, but Lambert’s not about to complain, not when most humans turn away from him in disgust and contempt when he tries to chat them up. 

Over the course of the next few weeks, Aiden almost develops a form of separation anxiety. He refuses to let Lambert out of his sight, going so far as to follow the man everywhere, and that’s the moment when Lambert snaps. 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he asks, his tone hiding none of the irritation he feels at being tailed by this overgrown tomcat. Aiden stops dead in his tracks, his eyes growing wide at Lambert’s words. 

“Huh?” 

“You’ve been following me since this morning… I have errands to run and it’s hard to do that when you’re breathing down my neck!”

Lambert instantly regrets his words the minute they leave his mouth. Aiden’s shoulders visibly sag at Lambert’s comment, his content expression melting into something sadder and the sight tugs at the wolf’s heartstrings in all the wrong ways. Aiden averts Lambert’s eyes shyly, the tip of his ears turning a pretty shade of pink as embarrassment washes over him. Lambert heaves a sigh. Way to act like a fucking dick. 

“Sorry, Aiden. I… I didn’t mean to sound like an ass, but-”

“It’s alright, I… I knew this moment would come eventually.”

“What are you talking about?” Lambert asks, a confused frown etched on his face. Aiden doesn’t look at him when he replies in a voice far too small to belong to the lethal, cocky witcher Lambert has come to know over the past few months. 

“You’re gonna ask me to leave for good. I get it. I… I’ll go back to the room and pack my things.” 

As Aiden turns around to leave, Lambert’s hand shoots out and grabs a hold of Aiden’s wrist. Before Lambert’s brain has a chance to catch up, he finds himself pulling Aiden into a nearby alley, away from prying eyes of judgemental humans meandering the stalls of the midweek market. Aiden looks so unsure now, so vulnerable like this, and it makes Lambert want to wrap the Cat up in warm blankets and cuddle him and forget the world for a while. Instead, he settles on pressing Aiden’s back against the wall and draping himself around the Cat witcher as much as he can. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Lambert breathes in the air pocket between them as he locks eyes with Aiden, “you’ve just been… especially clingy recently. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Aiden averts his eyes once again, but Lambert is quick to grip the other man’s chin and force Aiden to meet his gaze. Even that simple touch pulls a small hiss from Aiden, whose eyes flutter shut as he relishes in the feeling of Lambert touching him anywhere. Lambert purses his lips, eager for an answer. 

“Aiden-”

“Winter is around the corner,” Aiden whispers, his tongue darting out to lick his suddenly dry lips. Lambert’s frown deepens. 

“And?”

His question is met with a pointed eye roll from Aiden. 

“And… wolves return to their dens for winter, don’t they? I was just… enjoying the last few weeks in your company before you leave and never come back.”

As the final piece of the puzzle slots into place, understanding dawns on Lambert. He pulls away from Aiden and the small whimper the loss of contact triggers does not go unnoticed. Something old and fragile aches in Lambert’s chest as the meaning of Aiden’s words sink in. Aiden isn’t just worried about being separated from Lambert for a few months, but he’s worried that Lambert will never come back.The wolf links his fingers with his Cat’s, squeezing softly as he leans into Aiden’s space and rubs his bearded cheek against Aiden’s jawline. The latter quickly melts under the soft ministrations, the soft content rumble deepening into a continuous purr as Lambert nuzzles the crook of Aiden’s neck. 

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” 

“Yeah, right,” Aiden snorts in response, “cause you’re so good with feelings and shit.”

“Not everyone’s a sappy sentimental bitch like you are,” Lambert teases gently, earning himself a half-hearted slap up the back of the head. “I don’t have to go back to Kaer Morhen this winter.”

Aiden tenses, his soft purring stopping abruptly as he takes in Lambert’s words. Lambert continues to rub his cheek against Aiden’s jaw, his neck, his cheek… wherever he can reach, the action meant to soothe the brewing storm in Aiden’s mind.

“It’s your home,” Aiden offers weakly, “I don’t want… I… it’s your home.” 

“I can send a letter to the old man. Let him know I’m alive. We could find a den somewhere else… an attic somewhere, or an abandoned castle.” Lambert nuzzles the spot right behind Aiden’s ear, earning a pleased hum from the Cat. “Or you could come with me.”

“Sure. Cause that’s gonna end well…” 

“That’s settled then. I’m spending winter with you.”

Aiden pushes Lambert away, their eyes meeting once again but this time, Aiden searches for any trace of a lie in Lambert’s amber gaze. He finds none, because Lambert is one hundred percent honest in his offer. He would ditch Vesemir, Geralt and Eskel for a year to spend it with Aiden… and the thought should scare him more than it does, truthfully. He’s only known the Cat for a few months, and yet… well, maybe Lambert was dreading the winter as well. How about that? It’s not like he felt equally anxious about leaving Aiden, it’s just… fuck off. 

“You mean that?” 

“Mhm. Fair warning… I hate the cold. If I’m spending the winter with you, you’ll have to find a way to keep me warm or I will bite your head off.” 

In Aiden’s defence, he does keep Lambert warm all winter long. Their cuddling finally turns into something more, and from the moment Lambert and Aiden cross that fateful line there is no going back. Aiden becomes insatiable, always seeking Lambert’s body in some shape or form, never letting the wolf out of his sight again.  Lambert may have been apprehensive about many things concerning Aiden when the two started travelling together, but it turns out that all his worries were for nothing. Turns out Cat witchers are still crazy, and feral, and mercurial… a tad possessive as well, something Lambert doesn’t hate... but they’re also the cuddliest sons of bitches on the Continent. 

Lambert can live with that, he thinks. 

Request a prompt.

[haikyuuuuuhypeeeee]

September Scribbles - Thursday, September 23rd

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Featuring: Miya Osamu (1.8k wc)

Prompt: After an emotionally and physically draining case at work, Person A wants to keep Person B close by, so that they can be there if Person B has a breakdown. (prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting)

WARNING: Swearing

“I’m just so fuckin’ stressed.”

You didn’t mean to overhear the phone call between Osamu and his brother, but his voice made you stop and wait in the hallway outside the bedroom.

“The store is fine, just some logistical problems. I’m just worried that the bank isn’t gonna see it that way.”

You freeze at Osamu’s words. The banks? Is his loan okay?

“Ugh, stop squabblin’ in my ear it’s gonna be fine.” A pause. “Nah, I’m not gonna tell Y/N, don’t wanna worry ‘em.”

That sentence makes another pang shoot through you. Why doesn’t he want to tell me? Does he not trust me? The thought makes you feel sick.

“Ya. I’ll be at the store tomorrow, I don’t really have a choice now.” You hear the bed springs creak and footstops moving to the dreer. “Ya, I’ll make some umeboshi onigiri for yer boy toy. Bet yer payin’ extra for it.”

You figure it’s safe to enter the room now and as you walk in Osamu laughs.

“Yer not gettin’ free shit ‘Tsumu. See ya tomorrow.” You hear tiny shrieking coming from the phone before Osamu hangs up. He’s still chuckling as you get into bed.

“Tomorrow?” You ask, watching Osamu get changed.

“Yeah, I gotta go down to the shop and handle the lunch rush.” He looks at you, apologetic. “I know it messes up our Saturday plans, and ‘m sorry.”

“No worries.” You say. Instead of lamenting at the loss of your usual Saturday routine, a plan forms in your head. “What time do we have to leave?”

He stares at you, pausing in taking off his shirt. “We?”

You nod, yawning and settling into the bed. “Sure, I don’t have work tomorrow and we can still spend some time together.” Another yawn escapes you and you close your eyes. “It’s a win-win.”

You feel OSamu join you in the bed and soon arms are wrapping around your waist. “Yer too good to me.” He murmurs, snuggling close. “Ya don’t have to if ya don’t want to.”

“I want to.” And it’s true, especially now that Osamu is stressed about his business. And for whatever reason he doesn’t want to tell you. But mMaybe if he sees you as someone who wants to go above and beyond and help out he’ll come to you with his problems, instead of keeping it from you. By being with him at the restaurant, you can be close by in case he gets extra stressed.

~~~

You’re slightly regretting your plan as you stand outside of Onigiri Miya, swaying on your feet.

“Too early?” OSamu asks you with a smug look.

“Not at all,” you reply. You put as much assurance into your words but the effect falls flat when you yawn. Osamu’s smirk widens as he ushers you inside and leads you to the back. You make a beeline for the coffee pot, eager to get a pot going. As you load up the machine, OSamus groans.

“They never did the prep last night,” he says. “Fuckin’ idiots.”

His tone made you turn around. “What’s wrong?”

“The closers last night didn’t finish the prep. So now on top of whipping up the fillings and receiving a stock order I gotta do the prep.” He closes the fridge door and you try not to flinch at the extra slam.

“It’s alright,” you walk over and stand close to Osamu. “I’m here, and I can do whatever you need.”

Osamu sighs, before giving you a small and tired smile. “Don’t know what I’d do without ya.”

You return his smile while your stomach twists. He claims to need you, but keeps secrets from you? “Sure,” you say instead.

After that there’s not much time for talking, with you and Osamu blitzing through the prep. By the time the delivery comes you’re working on mixing the fillings and Osamu goes to chat with the driver. He’s not gone long, returning with a single box and a stormy look.

“Where’s your order?” You ask.

He lifts up the single box of a few staples you recognize. “This is it. There was a mixup and my order got booted from the truck.” He drops the box on the counter and exhales sharply. “Fuck, why is everyting going to shit today?”

“Hey, it’s alright.” You soothe. “I think we’re good for today - if the order comes Monday then you’ll be good.”

He stills looks murderous and doesn’t respond to you but he does put his order away. You figure he’s taking the extra time to actually cool down so you wait patiently. By the time he comes back to you he looks relatively normal.

“The doors open in five minutes, are we ready to go?”

You nod and start carrying the cambros of food out to the front counter. But a hand on your wrist stops you, and Osamu pulls you in for a quick kiss.

“This isn’t sanitary.” You politely remind him, silently reveling in his small, soft smile he gives you.

“Well good thing I own the place.” He grabs more containers and you two make quick work of setting up. And by the time the open light is switched on you’re situated behind the register and Osamu is ready to assemble onigiri.

A small trickle of customers come in - from the parents out running errands and need something to persuade their children in behaving to a couple of rough-looking kids that look like they had a fun night last night.

Everyone seems to know Osamu well, even sharing a few words while he assembles their orders. You watch when you can, taking in his relaxed gesture and kind face as he converses. Could someone as relaxed as he is, doing what he loves, be fostering problems that he can’t confide in with his significant other? Osamu’s not a good liar so it doesn’t seem likely.

But you heard him last night - “I’m not gonna tell Y/N.” There’s obviously something he’s hiding.

A flock of older women come in then, pulling you from your depressing thoughts. They are only the beginning of a mad Saturday morning rush that has a line trailing well out the door. You and Osamu are swamped - he’s making onigiri as fast as he can and you’re taking orders quickly. But it seems like the line is never ending.

“‘Cuse me! VIP coming through!”

You roll your eyes as Atsumu saunters up to the counter, Sakusa in tow. Sakusa looks just as unamused as you feel, glaring at his boyfriend.

“VIPs have to wait extra long,” you inform Atsumu sweetly.

“Oh dear future in-law,” Atsumu drawls. “Ya don’t wanna be on my bad side.”

“Are you implying that you have a good side?” You shoot back. “Because I have some news for you.”

A quiet scoff from Sakusa makes you grin and Atsumu turns to him. “Ya can’t agree with her Omi!”

“I can’t argue with logic.” Sakusa tells him coolly. He looks away from the indignant look on Atsumu’s face and regards you. “Y/N-san.”

“Hey Omi-kun. I think Osamu has your order in the back.” You step away to get Sakusa’s special Onigiri order - made with clean cutlery and gloved hands. You return to the front and see an unnerving sight - Atsumu and Osamu in each other’s faces with Sakusa trying to hold Atsumu back. There’s a counter between them but you wouldn’t doubt their desire to jump the counter to brawl.

“What’s going on?” You come up to Osamu’s side. “You guys, people are staring.”

“Ask yer boyfriend.” Atsumu snaps.

“Don’t talk to her like that.” Osamu snarls back.

You grab Osamu’s arm. “Stop it, what the hell is going on?!”

“Ask him Y/N,” Atsumu repeats. “I tried to get him to tell ya -“

Osamu reaches over the counter and grabs onto Atsumu’s shirt. “Shut yer fuckin’ trap.”

“Osamu!” You shake his arm, trying to pull it away. You know attempting to stop a Miya fight is futile but people in the restaurant are starting to stare.

“Osamu,” you repeat. You keep your voice quiet and gentle. “It’s alright.”

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, and you see the slight wide-eye panic there. You know he’s close to breaking, if not breaking this very moment. And yeah, he might want to tell you why he’s stressed to the point of strangling his brother. And yeah, that maybe stings a bit. But what hurts more is seeing Osamu hurting.

So you put your insecurities and self-doubt aside, and gently help unclench Osamu’s fist from Atsumu’s shirt. You pat his back and steer him towards the kitchen, before stepping up to the register to take Atsumu’s order and help your boyfriend.

~~~

You sigh heavily before flipping the open sign off. After sending Osamu to the kitchen you only had to man the shop for a half hour, just enough time to help Atsumu and a few more customers. But man were you beat .

You head to the kitchen, slowly pushing open the door. You find Osamu bent over the sink, elbows deep in dishes and soapy water.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask gently. He freezes, still turned away from you. He stays like that for nearly a minute (long enough that you’ve wanted to force him to turn around and talk to you at least three times) before speaking up.

“I’m looking into getting a loan for a house.” He says. “The bank said they were worried about the shop, since we haven’t brought in much income since opening.”

“But it takes a few years for restaurants to bring in profit.” You argue. “And you’ve only been open a few months.” Then you realize what Osamuactually just said and promptly backtrack. “Wait, a loan for a house?”

He looks over his head and gives you a smile. “I wanted to surprise ya,” he says. “And I wanted to do it myself.” He fully turns towards you, leaning against the sink. “I should have known not to doubt ya. I don’t know how, but this week has been the most stressful week of my life and ya’ve done nothing but keep me together like glue.” He pauses, giving you another smile. “‘M sorry for not tellin’ ya.”

You laugh, completely caught off guard by the wild change of events. This whole time you thought Osamu didn’t trust you with his troubles but his troubles were because he was trying to buy a freakin house. For you and him.

“It’s okay,” you reply, still giggling. “I didn’t want to push you but I wanted to be here for you.” You step up and wrap yourself around your boyfriend. You smile against his chest when you feel his arms wrap around you.

“Yer here.” He says quietly, almost reverently. “Yer here.”

END

September Scribbles Masterlist🧡

Taglist: @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @ara-mitsue

[sergiovinazzi]

Stolen - Lando Norris x Reader (Chapter Two)

2.9k words, rated E for everyone :)

Lando’s voice, amplified by the TV speakers, echoes around the humming Red Bull garage. “I’m fine but I’ve been better. I can say that I’m not in perfect condition, I’m not gonna lie. Some work to do mentally of course. I talk about that a lot, and mental health and mental strength is very important. I’ve not been sleeping that great and so on… not ideal and I’m feeling a bit sore, but I’m not the guy in the worst position after Wembley. I’ll work on it, I’ll make sure I’m in the best shape possible, and I feel like I can still go out and focus on what I need to do, and that’s the main thing.”

Your mind races as you listen to the boy plastered across the many screens revisit his experience at Wembley. He sounds awful; something about his cadence making it even more obvious that he is really, truly shaken up. The wavering pitch, awkward pausing, fumbling for words; everything about the way he presents himself is serving as a brutal reminder that being physically unscathed is no indicator that harm was not dealt. Even as the interview moves past the topic of last week’s Euro Final, you notice the shift in demeanor and your heart aches. You worry that bringing the watch to him is a bad idea, that it could prompt unbidden memories and disquieting feelings. You understand how big of an event Silverstone is from your dad’s tangents alone, especially for an English team with an English driver, so you reevaluate whether your decision to come was selfish, one made solely to alleviate your own sentiments of guilt rather than to verily right your believed wrongdoings.

On the journey to Silverstone, your dad had made multiple attempts at lessening your stress, even opting for variations of the if he steps out of line I will put him right back in his place father speech. Unfortunately fruitless, your father’s attempts mean you remain just as anxious as when you had first discovered that you managed to obtain a stolen wristwatch.

You’re not sure whether it’s the crisp morning air or your nerves that sends chills across your flesh, but your attempt to ground yourself subtly doesn’t go unnoticed by your dad as he passes you in the garage.

“Time is ticking,” he informs you, a smirk playing on his lips. “No pun intended.”

You roll your eyes in an attempt to downplay your apprehension, but your voice gives away any and all signs of the false confidence you hope to portray. “Can you do it for me?” you plead.

“I can’t just stroll on over to the McLaren garage without an invitation or proper reason, especially not a couple hours before free practice starts. It doesn’t look good.”

“It’s not like me walking in there instead would look any better,” you retort, gesturing to the Red Bull logo plastered across the chest of your black polo. “Your branding isn’t what I would call subtle.”

“Look, the McLaren team are a good sort. They’ll help you out if you just explain the issue and show them the watch. I’m sure Lando will understand too, he seems like a pretty nice bloke,” your dad reassures you.

Sighing, your eyes meet the floor, fingers intertwined with each other as you fidget incessantly. Before you can speak up in further defiance, however, an additional set of footsteps grow nearer and you freeze at the voice which speaks up.

“Christian, how much longer until our media slot?”

You lose your breath momentarily, locking your gaze onto your shoes as you wait for the person to pass by.

“About five minutes, Max,” your dad replies. “We were just about to head over.”

When you hear the footsteps grow fainter, you risk looking up, thankfully being met with only the observance of your father. You don’t even realize that you’ve tensed your body until your dad points it out.

“Relax,” he says. “He’s not going to say anything here, especially not on a race weekend.”

Nodding, you feel your shoulders ease up but you remain quiet.

“Anyways, like I said, our media briefing and interviews start soon and we’re after McLaren this weekend so they should already be back in their garage,” he says, realizing that you still appear troubled by the task ahead of you. “I promise you, everything will be fine. Just go over there and I’ll meet you back here when we’re done. The quicker you head over, the quicker you’re done with it and we can all move on." With that, your dad walks away and you reluctantly leave the Red Bull garage, adjusting your shirt as you straighten up.

You take a brief glance at your phone, turning it off after you try one last time to keep the picture of the boy imprinted in your mind. Eyes darting rapidly, you attempt to scan the paddock for anyone looking remotely like him while you make your way towards the bright orange and blue indicators of the McLaren garage.

The frequency of orange-clad individuals grows the further you stray from the safety of Red Bull’s garage, and you feel your heartbeat begin to increase. Worried that someone would stop you before you could approach the one person you had traveled all the way to Silverstone for in the first place, you quicken your pace.

You’re mere meters away when you spot him. Pushing past a few people while trying to keep your eyes trained on him, you watch as he turns around to talk briefly with the woman next to him.

Huffing, you muster up the little confidence you have and tap him on the shoulder.

His confusion is evident and the blonde woman next to him does not look pleased to have been interrupted. The silence is palpable as they stare at you, expecting an explanation for the abrupt ending of their conversation.

“Hi,” is all you can deliver. You’re at a loss for words while the woman next to him seems to lose what little patience she has with you. Everything you had rehearsed beforehand, gone. Your mind is foggy and your mouth feels dry as you try to compose yourself. “Um, can I talk to you for a second? It won’t be long, I promise.” Your voice breaks at the end and you wish you had never agreed to get on that stupid red-eye to Silverstone in the first place.

Lando offers a look of sympathy and then turns to the woman next to him. “Charlotte, could you just give us a second?”

Pursing her lips and turning on her heel, the woman walks away, heading towards the mouth of the McLaren garage. She’s far enough away that you’re out of earshot, but close enough that you feel her gaze linger as Lando turns back to face you.

“Hey, don’t worry,” he tells you with a smile. “We can take a picture if you want or I can sign some stuff for you.”

“What? No.” You shake your head, mentally slapping your palm against your forehead and forcing yourself to get a grip. Idiot. “Fuck, sorry, that sounded so rude! It’s just-” you rush to explain.

“Oh no, it’s okay!” he stammers. “I should’ve guessed from the Red Bull shirt anway.”

You both share an awkward laugh before you compose yourself and reach a shaky hand into your bag.

“This is going to sound so weird, but I was online shopping for a new watch the other day because I lost mine, and I’m pretty sure I bought the one that was stolen from you. I didn’t know anything about it, I swear. I just...well, here,” you say, offering the watch and its temporary box to Lando.

He looks at you, taking the box only to go wide-eyed at the contents inside.

“I have all the information that I was able to get, but the ad was taken off of eBay and I really wanted to do the right thing and give it back to you. Please don’t be mad.”

“What the hell?!” he exclaims, earning a few looks from people passing by and catching Charlotte’s attention once more. “Sorry, sorry. How did you get this?”

Amused, you laugh quietly while he studies the watch intently. “That was my dad’s reaction too. Basically there was a listing for it on eBay and it was sort of an impulse buy,” you explain. “I didn’t see the news coverage of what happened until afterwards and I felt awful. I’m really sorry you had to go through that, I genuinely had no idea.”

Shrugging, he plays it off. “Nothing I can’t handle.” It’s hard to miss his sudden change in attitude from the interview you watched moments ago and you can’t help but wonder whether he has your or the watch’s presence to thank.

There is a brief moment of silence between you both before he continues. “How much did you pay for it?”

“It was so cheap, honestly,” you say. “Nothing compared to the original price, I’m sure.”

Charlotte, alerted by Lando’s attention-grabbing reaction to being reunited by his watch, returns to where the two of you are standing. “Oh wow, did you find a replacement watch for him?” she asks you, clearly impressed by the apparent likeness.

“No, Charlotte”, he corrects her. “It’s my one. Look.” He hands the watch to his PR manager, who receives it so gently you think she’s afraid it might shatter in her hands. Flipping the watch between her fingers, she studies the small engraving on the underside of the face.

“Oh my god,” she whispers.

Lando nods. “It’s the exact date it was given to me, there’s no way anyone else could know that and make a copy of it.”

You feel the need to justify yourself to her. “It was listed online and I bought it before I knew anything about the situation. I didn’t even really know who Lando was until I saw what happened on the news, I swear.” You anticipate her anger or disapproval, preparing yourself to withstand the lecture you’re about to receive and mentally promising that, as soon as it’s over, you can run back to your dad and tell him you just want to go home.

But it doesn’t come.

“I can’t believe it!” she exclaims. “We all thought we’d never see it again and you found it on accident.” The smile she gives you sets your mind at ease. “Technically, this is a police matter now, so I’ll have to hand it over to the right people, but this helps us tremendously. Did you get any information about the seller?”

You explain the situation to her, about how the listing was taken offline but you have a printout of the messages and address the seller gave you, which you hand her from your bag. She lets you know that someone may get in touch soon to ask questions but not to worry, that it’s only a formality. Eventually, she asks if you’d like to watch free practice from a spot in the mobile hospitality unit, but you politely decline, explaining that you needed to get back to your dad in the Red Bull garage instead.

Charlotte smiles fondly at Lando and presses the brim of his cap down over his eyes. “Come on, you, we have to go and get ready now anyway.”

He takes off his hat, cheeks flushing as he makes an effort to quickly brush the curls lining his forehead, placing it back on and dismissing Charlotte with a wave of his hand. “Okay, just give me a minute.”

Once the two of you are alone, he pulls out his phone. “Do you have Venmo? I’ll pay you back, it’s not fair that you had to waste your money.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.”

Lando seems unconvinced. “It’s really not a problem.”

“Seriously, it’s all good.”

“Well,” he continues awkwardly. “I have to go, but are you here for the whole weekend or...?”

You shake your head. “Just today. I’m not into Formula 1, I find it a little bit boring.”

“Seriously?! The fastest cars in the world and you’re calling it boring? Why even come to something like Silverstone if it’s so boring?” he feigns offense, doing air quotes as he imitates your apparent disdain for the sport.

Laughing quietly, you shrug. “I have family at Red Bull, so it was basically just luck and convenience that you were in the U.K. this weekend,” you clarify. “I don’t really understand Formula 1, that’s all.”

“Fair enough, it’s not for everyone I suppose,” Lando replies. “So who in your family works at Red–” The end of his question is drowned out by the sound of his name called by an evidently disgruntled, impatient engineer.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, I’ve really gotta go, but, um,” he exhales with a nervous laugh. “I still feel like I need to repay you in some way. Do you want to go get a drink after the race on Sunday? I’m busy for the next few days but Sunday night I’ll be free. Only if you want to, of course, I don’t want to, like, pressure you or anything.”

You laugh, appreciative that the nervousness was shared. “That– Yeah, that sounds fine. I’ll give you my number.”

He types your details into his phone before apologizing once more, thanking you again, and rushing off into the garage.

——

On Sunday, you let your dad believe he’s the one who convinced you to stay for the entire race weekend, but it’s the promise of Lando’s company later that night and the endearing text messages on your phone that prompts the desire to see this weekend through. You had spent the previous nights on your phone, going through driver and team Instagram accounts, as well as the F1 website, to get an idea of what to expect. Typically, it would pain you to look through motorsport news pages, especially with so many of the reports centering around Max and his vie for the championship as of late, but you manage.

You notice almost immediately while settling into your spot at the back of the garage that the energy does not match your own. You are enthusiastic and eager, while the rest of the team is stressed and rushes around you. Presumably, it’s because race day impacts their livelihoods and paycheks whereas it only dictates your family’s dinner topics, but, nevertheless, your excitement refuses to simmer.

Unfortunately, if it was weird for you to be seen at the McLaren garage before the first free practice, it would be infinitely more suspicious for you to be lingering around on race day, so you were not able to catch Lando at all since your initial meeting on Friday. However, you made sure to message him good luck beforehand, to which he thanked you and expressed excitement for your upcoming night.

“If you need anything, just ask. I’ll be on the pitwall,” your dad says, snapping you out of your whirring mind. He notices your obscure behavior, quick to comment on it. “Is it weird? Being here after so long?”

You nod, shrugging. “Unusual, for sure. So much has changed since the last time I came and watched, but I’m excited, though.”

“Well, it’s always good to have you here.”

Reciprocating your dad’s grin, you silently send him on his way. He exits quickly and leaves you to your own devices. Though, your own devices look to consist of impatiently waiting for the race to start and scrolling absentmindedly through your phone. Ironically, your boredom with pre-race antics appears to create quite the dichotomy against the chaos exuding from the garage you find yourself encompassed in.

Regardless, your attention is regained when frequent cuts are made to the drivers in their cars, and you recognise that the race will be starting soon. You are temporarily startled when the cars begin moving without hearing an official announcement, but quickly realisee that it is merely a formation lap and no one else around you seems to be paying all too much mind to it.

When the cars return to their positions on the grid, you watch eagerly as the lights flash and the announcers begin yelling. You keep your eyes trained on the orange car towards the front of the grid, watching Lando so intently that you almost miss what happens to the cars in front of him.

Your eyes go wide as you watch the events unfold: the Red Bull car out front collides with what you identify as a Mercedes, spinning and slamming into the barrier. Gasps chorus across the garage as the screens replay slowed clips of the crash as an announcement states that the safety car has been deployed. They replay it from every conceivable angle, your astonishment at the severity is present upon your first viewing, but it’s only after the sixth clip that it clicks in your head that the person in the car is Max.

“For the second time this season, Hamilton and Verstappen clash and tangle on the opening lap, but, this time, it is ending in dramatic consequences for the championship leader.”

If you had perceived the pre-race behavior in the garage as chaotic, this was a whole new level of absurdity.

People rush around you while orders are shouted and frustrations are verbalised.

Your dad is angry.

The last time you recall him behaving like this was when your younger sister had broken the wine glasses he had bought for your mother on their honeymoon. You, however, ignore his yelling and remain encapsulated by the TV, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the events unfolding finally, finally register in your brain.

Car number 33 is in the wall and out of the race, and your ex-boyfriend is inside, silent and unmoving.

____________

tag list @lovebynorth @its-astrotea-love

[nextdoor-neighbors]

Shrunk

Request: Can I request a Fred x reader fic. Maybe George pulled a prank on her and shrunk all he school uniforms and Fred gets real turned on at the sight of her in knee high socks and a shirt skirt and is embarrassed to admit it. He gets mad at the boys ogling over her and gets jealous! Smut maybe?

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Oral (male receiving)

“No. Way.”

You hear Hermione stifle a giggle from behind you. “It’s not...that bad.”

You turn around, away from the mirror to face your friend, tugging down your skirt as much as you can without ripping the fabric. “Look me in the eye and say that again, Hermione.”

Hermione looks you up and down from her seat on the edge of her bed, clearly trying to hold back her grin. “I can’t do that.”

You groan loudly, throwing your head back. George Weasley thought it would be funny to prank you - as he and his twin often did, considering you’re good friends with Ron - only this time, he pranked you by himself, which resulted in all of your school clothes being shrunk. All of them.

“This is so embarrassing,” you sigh, looking at yourself once more in the mirror. Maybe you could just fake being sick and skip all your classes until you figured out a way to fix this. Yet at the same time, you needed to go confront George.

“You’ll be fine, Y/N. The worst that’ll happen is everyone staring at you,” Hermione says, pushing herself off of her bed and looking at you again.

“That’s, like, my worst nightmare, ‘Mione.”

Hermione giggles. “I know, but the longer you stand here and stare at yourself, the later we’re going to be for breakfast. So come on, I promise it’ll be okay.”

You hesitantly follow her out of the dorm, shrugging your robe on and holding it tightly around you, because thankfully, it was the one article of your school uniform that George left alone.

Once you arrive at the Great Hall for breakfast, you notice that mostly everyone is already there, apart from you, Hermione, and a few other stragglers. The two of you head to your spots at the Gryffindor table, where it looks like Ron and Harry saved you seats between them, which also happen to be right across from the twins.

Ron, per usual, was stuffing his face with food, but stopped long enough to say, “Took you two long enough to show.”

“We couldn’t help it, Y/N was having some... issues with her uniform,” Hermione says, and you feel yourself blush deeply as George starts laughing.

“What, did you prank Y/N without me?” Fred says to his twin in disbelief. 

George grins in response, turning to you. “Why don’t you show us, Y/N?”

“Absolutely not,” you say, your face practically burning with your blush at this point.

“Pleeease, I need to at least admire my handiwork before I fix it,” George replies, giving you his puppy dog eyes, which he knows you can’t resist.

You roll your eyes and get up off the bench, pulling open your robe so that your too-tight shirt and too-short skirt are fully on display for your friends. George bursts out laughing, which draws attention from other tables, so people’s heads start turning. You pull your robe back closed, hopefully, before too many people saw.

“Bloody hell,” Ron mutters in awe, which earns him a smack on the arm from Hermione.

“Oh, shut it, Ronald.”

Your gaze shifts to Fred, whose face - much to your surprise - is as equally as red as yours.

“You’ll fix it, right?” you say to George, who exchanges a look with Fred before turning his attention back to you.

“Yeah, eventually.”

“George,” you hiss, momentarily looking back to Fred, who has his gaze fixed on you. Once you sit back down, you cross your legs tightly, trying to ignore the feeling that the look in his eyes is giving you.

“I’m only joking, Y/N. Of course I’ll fix it. However-” he glances over his shoulder at the other house tables, where you see several of your classmates whispering amongst each other, “-I think quite a few people already got a good look at you.”

“Dammit,” you mutter. You can’t help but glance up at Fred again. He isn’t looking at you anymore, but you still notice that his expression has changed, and he looks rather annoyed now.

George was right, though, because throughout the day, you face many comments in the halls, especially after you get distracted by a conversation with Harry on the way back to the Gryffindor common room at the end of the day and accidentally let your robes fall open.

“Nice uniform, Y/N!” a boy from the year above you calls across the hall, sending a wink in your direction.

“Oh, shove off!” a voice says from behind you, and you turn around in surprise to see Fred Weasley, shooting a death glare towards the boy.

“Uh, I’ll catch up with you later, Harry,” you say.

“Can I talk to Fred for a minute? Alone?” you ask George, who agrees and heads off to the common room, as well.

“What is it, Y/N?” Fred asks, annoyance clear in his tone after you pull him into an empty corridor.

“What’s your deal? You’ve looked annoyed all day. I’m not upset by the prank, you know. Sure, it was a little embarrassing, but I’m not mad at George or anything, plus he said he’d help fix it-” you abruptly stop rambling, your cheeks flushing as Fred looks you up and down.

��That’s not it,” he says, quieter this time, his eyes still searching your body. You’re very aware of the way your shrunken shirt strains against your chest and how there’s quite a bit of skin of your thighs exposed between where your skirt falls and where your knee-high socks end. But under Fred’s gaze, you don’t feel uncomfortable.

“Then what is it?” you ask, matching his quiet tone.

His face reddens, much to your amusement. You’re not used to seeing this side of Fred.

“It’s...it’s the boys who’ve been ogling you all day.”

Your heart somersaults as you bite your lip gently, Fred’s eyes trained on the movement.

“And what about them?”

Fred doesn’t respond for a moment, pressing his lips tightly together in his hesitation.

“I don’t like them looking at you like that. I want to be the only one to look at you like that.”

Your breath hitches slightly at his words, shock and excitement and desire all flooding through you at once. You never knew Fred was attracted to you, but jealous Fred? Even better. You feel more confident than you ever have before with your new knowledge, and for this reason, you decide to act on it.

After sending a look either way down the hall to check for any professors or students, you grab Fred’s arm and pull him into the nearest broom closet.

“Y/N, what are you-”

You cut him off with your lips, pushing him back against the wall of the small closet and kissing him hungrily. He responds almost instantly, meeting your passion with his own, his hands sliding under your short skirt and coming to rest on your ass.

After a minute more of snogging and Fred getting rather handsy, you drop down to your knees and start unbuckling his belt. He watches you, eyes dark with lust, as you pull down his pants and boxers to see that he’s already incredibly hard.

Fred breathes your name as you don’t hesitate to take him into your mouth, wrapping his hands in your hair. His low moans make you wet as you bob your head with increasing speed, taking as much of him as you can handle.

You feel him tighten his grip on your hair as he mumbles, “I’m gonna cum, Y/N.”

He releases into your mouth with a low groan and you swallow, wiping your hand across your lips as you stand up. Fred looks down at you, his lips slightly parted with a small smirk playing on them.

“You’re good at that, y’know. But now it’s my turn to show you what I’m good at,” he says breathily, winking at you, but you place your hands gently on his chest to stop him before he does anything.

“Take me back to your room first,” you practically whisper.

“Absolutely. But I have one request, for when we do get to my room.” Fred pulls up his boxers and pants, putting his belt back on and gazing down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Which is?” you prompt him, not sure what he’s about to say.

He grins wickedly, placing his hand on the door handle, speaking to you before he opens the door. 

“The skirt stays on while I fuck you.”

[stevesharrlngtons]

i measure time by days spent away from you.

roman godfrey x reader

summary: while you’re off on a girls weekend, roman is left missing you.

word count: 5.9k

a/n: ingredients: just sweetness. instructions: read when you are feeling sad. results: good feelings resulting in feedback 4 the writer (-:  

“I can’t believe you’re being such a baby about this.” 

“Fuck off,” Roman grumbled in reply, moving to lay flat against the mattress with a huff. 

You just laughed and continued to fold clothes into your bag. You were very meticulous when it came to packing, wanting everything in your suitcase to be stored efficiently to maximize space. Roman always teased you about it. Although, each and every vacation taken together, he always complained that he couldn’t fit everything he wanted to bring in his suitcase. You’d counter his irritation by offering to help him pack next time, and he’d always roll his eyes stubbornly.

But, you wouldn’t have to hear his snarky comments or annoyed ramblings this trip, because you were leaving Roman behind in Pennsylvania. 

Destiny had invited you to her bachelorette party in Atlantic City for the long weekend, and you had happily accepted. You had been awaiting this girls trip for weeks and you were excited that it had finally arrived. You didn’t have many female friends anymore, having grown apart from the ones you made in high school and college, so the opportunity to have some good old fashioned girl time was overdue. While you and Destiny were close, you had never met any of her other friends. You were silently hoping to come out of the weekend with some new buddies, a few good stories, and plans for future adventures. 

“I just don’t understand why it’s three days…” he said, watching you riffle through the closet for a party dress. 

“Hardly,” you snorted, “I’ll be gone tonight, tomorrow and Sunday morning. You’ll barely even notice.”

The sound of you moving hangers around covered Roman’s pouted not likely.

Roman had been dreading your departure all week and now that it was here, he was stewing in self pity and pubescent angst. He didn’t want you to fly to New Jersey and go partying with a bunch of rowdy women, he just wanted you to himself. Which he knew was selfish and borderline unhealthy, but he didn’t really care. He liked you right by his side, slung under his arm, safe and sound. He wasn’t used to you going out with friends and especially not for so long. If you were out for an evening, you were back and in bed snuggled to his chest well before dawn. 

“I just don’t see why you can’t fly out Saturday morning, do whatever Destiny wants, then fly home in the evening,” Roman sighed, waving his hands lazily in the air. 

“What kind of loser does that? It’s like showing up for the birthday party and leaving before the sleepover,” you took a dress from the closet and walked to the mirror to pose with it infront of your body. 

“You hated sleepovers as a kid,” he argued. 

“I never wanted to sleep in a sleeping bag on the floor,” you shuttered, “but when I’m promised a nice mattress, along with tons of drinking and dancing? Count me in for the sleepover and all the party favors.” 

“So, what?” Roman pushed up to rest on his elbows, “You’re just going to get wasted and dance? You could do that here, y’know?” 

“You wanna go dancing with me, Rome?” you shifted your eyes from the dress to look at his reflection in the mirror. 

“You know I’d go with you if you asked…” 

“Then, we should totally go dancing next weekend, baby.” 

You turned to place the dress you had been modeling in your bag and Roman groused petulantly. He watched closely as you folded the slinky designer dress on top of your other clothing and toiletries, smiling when it fit perfectly. You mouthed your checklist to yourself, counting off on your fingers that you had everything you needed, before you zipped the suitcase shut. When you had finished, you shuffled around on your knees to look at him.

“What if I fly down with you and we could get our own room? Have some hotel fun?” he raised an eyebrow and you just shook your head at his pleading. 

“Ro, this is a girls weekend, meaning no boys allowed. Including you.” 

He once more threw himself back down on the mattress in theatrics. 

“You do know that Peter lives here now?” you walked over to the bed and hopped on to straddle his hips, “How can you be mad at me for leaving you to have a fun weekend with your best friend?”

“Peter has plans.” 

“I know for a fact that he doesn't,” you took Roman’s face on your hands and pivoted his chin to look at you, “so go out with him. Have some fun, get drunk, do whatever you can’t do when I’m here.”  

Roman let you handle him completely, his neck limp and suggestible. He stared up at you with sad emerald eyes. 

“What if I make some calls and get the jet? I could get it here in an hour and you could go to New Jersey and be home before dinner?”

You just smiled and leaned down to kiss him softly, “I love you.” 

“Is that a yes?” 

“It’s a no, but I still love you.”

Again, Roman slumped and sulked.  

You looked down at your moping boyfriend and kissed his jaw affectionately. You knew that Roman loved you, but you weren’t entirely sure why he was throwing such a fit about your leaving? Sure, he liked being with you, doing things with you, fucking you; but he wasn’t one of those partner’s who was lost without their other half. Roman did plenty of things alone, even went on the occasional business trip all by his lonesome and never put up this kind of fight before. 

You had mentally chalked it down as him being a possessive worry wart, which is why you already had plans to text him often to ease his mind. 

As you continued to lay soft kisses to his skin, there was a honk outside followed closely by a buzz of your phone. Your car had arrived to pick you up. Roman groaned as you sat up. 

“I gotta go, baby.” 

“Five more minutes?” 

“I don’t think I can ask the driver to do that,” you hummed as you pushed yourself off him. 

You went to the door and you looked over your shoulder to see Roman still laying down, a scowl on his face. 

“Are you gonna walk me down, at least? I’d like to say goodbye to you.”

Roman’s scowl deepened before he released a deep breath and pushed up from the mattress and walked to you. When he reached you, you made a move to grab your bags, but Roman beat you to it. He picked up your luggage without any haste and left the bedroom without a word or backward glance. You just rolled your eyes at his childishness and followed him, catching up with his long legged strides to wrap your arms around his waist. You pressed your cheek firmly to his back, and wound your fingertips in the fabric of his shirt. It made walking down the stairs a struggle, but Roman didn’t move to peel you off, which you appreciated. 

“You off?” Peter asked from the living room, lifting the remote to pause whatever he was watching on TV. 

“Sure am,” you said from behind Roman, giving him a gentle squeeze. 

“Have fun, will ya? Say hi to D for me.” 

“I will,” you grinned as Roman stayed silent. 

You could see Peter's face screw up with confusion on Roman’s stoic behavior, but kept his mouth shut on the matter, something you were thankful for. There was another honk from outside which prompted you to start to drag your oversized boyfriend to the front door. 

“Have fun!” Peter called again, his voice muted by the closing door. 

Once outside, Roman handed off your suitcase to the town car driver. The man took your luggage, then opened the backseat door swiftly for you to enter, waiting expectantly. 

“Give us a minute,” Roman said, dismissing the driver with a little too much hostility. 

The driver gave no indication of being offended by Roman’s tone, as he nodded and went to put your bag in the trunk of the car and then returned to the driver's seat. When he was out of sight, Roman looked you in the eyes. 

“You really sure you wanna go?” 

“Really sure,” you responded with a quick nod. 

“I guess I can’t talk you out of it then, now can I?” he frowned. 

“Roman, I promise you everything is going to be OK. I’ll be fine there, and you’ll be fine here.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he slumped his shoulders. 

“Then what is it?” 

Roman just shrugged. Too stubborn to admit how much he would miss you. 

You sighed, “Well, whatever it is… I’m going to miss you.” 

Roman took his hands from his pockets and placed them on your hips. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll miss you, too.” 

You slid your hands up his chest to meet behind his neck, pulling him close. 

“I love you very much,” you placed a chaste kiss to his lips, which Roman chased. 

“Love you, too.” he returned, giving you a much longer, more passionate kiss. 

When you pulled apart, Roman spoke again. 

“Text me when you get to the airport, when you board the plane, when you take off, when you land, when you actually get off the plane, what kind of car you're taking to the hotel, get me the driver’s info if you can --” you interrupted his rambled list. 

“I will, I will do all of that and I will tell you when we get to the hotel.” you said in a soft, placating voice. You smoothed your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and felt tiny goosebumps form along the skin underneath. 

“Fine, fine, OK.” Roman’s jaw tightened. 

You leaned up and pressed your lips to the tensing muscle, “I love you and I promise to keep you posted, but I gotta go. I don’t wanna miss the flight.” 

Roman nodded stiffly, but said nothing. 

You began to wiggle away from his hold, when Roman decided to swoop down one last time to kiss you. You were sure the driver was retching by the sheer amount of times you both had done so, but you didn’t care. You loved this silly man and would drown him in smooches to his heart content before you left. 

When your final kiss ceased, you both with labored breathing and gloss swollen lips, Roman let you enter the backseat of the town car and shut the door behind you. 

As the car drove away, you unrolled the window and leaned out the opening, blowing him a dramatic kiss as you swayed your arm in the wind like a 19th century on looker to a parting ship. Roman watched you with a stilted smile until you disappeared down the road. 

When Roman came back inside the house, Peter was waiting for him.

“So, the ol’ ball and chain is out for the weekend. What are your plans?”

Roman said nothing to him as he began to march up the stairs, hand clenching the rail. 

“I’m thinking strippers? Huh? Could be fun?” Peter walked to the staircase and watched Roman until he receded into the hallway without a reply. 

“Maybe rent the fight on pay-per-view? Get some beers?” he called louder. 

Still he only received silence. He rested his chin on the banister and waited a moment before he yelled, “Fine, be a pussy and cry that your girlfriend is gone!” 

The sound of a door being thrown open was Peter’s first response, followed by a verbal one. 

“I never said no, Jesus! So fucking fine, let’s go to the strip club, asshole.” 

Peter smirked as he heard Roman’s indiscernible grumbles before he shut himself right back into his bedroom. Roman liked to pretend he was complicated, but Peter could play him like a fiddle. 

Roman was surrounded by body oil, neon lights and gyrating women. A few years ago, this would have been his heaven, his domain. But now, it all felt trivial and antiquated. It felt played out and pathetic. With the neck of a beer bottle cradled lazily between his fingers, he watched on as the beautiful women of the club stripped from their skimpy costumes and revealed themselves in new and arousing ways. 

Peter, who sat next to him at their small circular table, was transfixed by the women around them. Reclined in his seat with a smile on his face, his eyes followed the dancers as they spun around poles, as they groped and shook themselves. Roman knew that he should have the same appreciation for the dancers as his friend. He knew that he should be calling over the ones who eyed him up and down with lust, he knew that he should be paying for private dances until his bank account ran dry. But he didn’t want to. He didn’t feel like it, at all. 

Peter picked up on his friend's lack of enthusiasm when he found him slipping his phone from his pocket every few minutes to check for notifications. He let out a snort through his nose, one that was muffled under the booming music, but still heard by Roman. 

“What?” he asked as he tried to discreetly put his cell back in his front pocket. 

“Nothing,” Peter hummed, raising his eyebrows, “Just find it funny.” 

“Find what funny?” 

“That you’re so whipped.” 

“Fuck off,” Roman scoffed, taking a swig of his beer. 

“Sure, sure, whatever. It won’t make you any less whipped, though…” Peter smirked. 

“I am not fucking whipped.” 

“Yeah? Then why do you look like you just put your fucking dog down when you should be looking like a kid in a candy store? Huh?” 

“I’m just not feeling it, OK? These girls are ugly. If I see one more cesarean scar I might vomit,” he sneered. 

“These girls are all tens and you know it! You’re just being a pouty little whipped boy because your girlfriend’s gone.” 

Roman’s face hardened as he turned to glare at Peter, “Fine, y’know that? Fuck you, you goddamn prick. Have fun with these busted bitches. I’m out of here.” 

Roman shot from his seat and slammed his beer on the table, causing a few other patrons to look over. He was already gathering his things to leave. 

“Hey, hey, hey, cool down, bud,” Peter said, trying to pacify a Godfrey level tantrum, “I was just joking around, OK? I’m just bustin’ your balls, that’s all.”

Roman’s mouth pressed into a thin line as he loomed over the table with a glower in his wide eyes. 

“C’mon man, just sit,” Peter pleaded, “Don't be weird about it, just sit.” 

Roman eventually relented after a long pause, collapsing his long limbs back into his chair with a loud sniff, his posture rigid. Roman picked his beer back up and took a pull from the bottle. 

“Look, I really was just kidding around, alright? Don’t take it to heart or anything,” Peter said, leaning toward his friend so he wouldn’t have to talk over the music. 

“Yeah, Ok. Fine,” Roman replied, refusing to make eye contact by letting his gaze wander around the club. 

Peter sighed, “I get it, alright? I do. When you’re in love, things are different. You have blinders on to everything but that one person, and as easy as it is to make fun of, it’s not a bad thing, Roman. It’s good, and it’s a good feeling to have.” 

Roman finally looked over the table to Peter, whose gaze had wilted and saddened. He could practically see him thinking about Letha, her face forming and twisting in his irises. 

He swallowed thickly before he slapped Peter on the shoulder in a search to break the tension, “No hard feelings. I’m gonna head out for a smoke, yeah? And I promise when I get back I’ll have a better time. OK?” 

Peter pursed his lips in an attempt to ward off the bubbling curse of his fallen love's memory and nodded, quickly downing the remainder of his drink and calling a waitress over for another. 

Roman took his jacket from the back of his chair and headed for the exit. Once outside, he collected his pack of Marlboros from his pocket, then a cigarette and the lighter that fit snuggly beside each other. 

As he sucked on the filter under the club’s awning and fluorescent flood lights, he felt his phone vibrate. He scrambled to retrieve it from his jeans and read the text hurriedly. 

just got to dinner and im ordering a vodka soda and thinking of you. miss u already, ily!

Roman’s heart flipped and fluttered in a way that made his cheeks tinge with pink, while a smile fought to curl on his lips. As he quickly typed out a reply, a little voice in the back of his head told him that maybe Peter was right, maybe he was whipped. 

drink slow, baby, remember what happened in ibiza when you had to many lol

And immediately after

i love you too, keep me posted

When he pocketed his phone once more, Roman pondered. Flicking the ash off of the end of his cigarette, he decided that there were worse things in life than being in love with a woman, and being devoted to her. If that made him whipped, then so be it. Though, he would never admit that to anyone but his consciousness (even a bit painfully at that).  

The sheets were warm with body heat and Roman had lost the cool side of his pillow hours ago. He tossed and turned. He shucked off the blankets, just to retrieve them moments later. His limbs danced under the sheets in search of comfort and a portion of the bed that wasn’t sticky with his sweat and a high temperature. His hips hurt from laying on his sides and his shoulders hurt when he rolled on his back. He was crawling out of his skin with discomfort and soreness as the moon illuminated the bedroom. Around 1AM, he had tried to close the blinds, but they only ever budged for your magic touch, and Roman had only mangled them into an unrelenting slope. 

Roman had checked his phone every ten minutes since he got under the covers. He had texted you a succinct good night around eleven and had received a jumbled good night in response. He had typed out a text that had bordered on passive aggressive, asking about how your night had been going and how much you had had to drink, but deleted it before he hit send. He was doing his best to avoid playing into the overbearing, resentful boyfriend role that he felt he was in. You deserved to let loose, he just wished he was by your side as you did (and not thousands of miles away).

He had typed another text out just after midnight, then another after the blinds incident, but deleted those as well. Part of his pouting was pretending that you didn’t want to be bothered by his messages, so he would just lock his phone and return it to the night stand each time. But, that was before the irritation had set in on his bones and just the thought of trying to fall asleep made his skin waver and blister. 

But he still didn’t text you. 

Because this time he called. 

He shuffled around as he listened to the phone ring in his ear, squirming under the covers as the top sheet seemed to be holding his ankle hostage. He felt an overwhelming urge to snap and strip the bed of its clothes and throw them all out on the lawn, when he heard you begin to pick up.

“Ro?” you shouted into the receiver, the loud blare of club music accompanying your voice. 

“Hey, you’re still out?” he asked, twisting his leg around erratically until his ankle was free. 

“I can’t hear you! Hold on,” you said loudly again, followed by muffled shuffles as you moved through the crowd.   

“Wait! Hold on! Roman! Wait!” he heard your far away voice say as you exited the club. 

The music grew further away and the static shuffle ended, Roman could finally hear your voice and only it. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” you giggled.

“Having fun?” Roman asked, trying to mask his interest. 

“Yeah,” he could hear your shrug, “dancing is lots of fun.”

“You sound like you’re having fun.” 

“Well, I can be lots of fun after a few Moscow Mules,” you chuckled at your own joke. 

“Switched from vodka sodas?”

“Yeah, the other girls were drinking them so I thought, ‘Hey! Why not?’”

Roman could hear the sound of your high heels echoing on the pavement. 

“How are you getting along with them? No bad blood?” 

There was a beat of pause on your end before you sighed, “It’s hard to make new friends, Rome.”

“Did something happen?” Roman felt a flare of anger in his chest. 

“No, no,” you replied, “they’re nice girls, I think I’m just in my head about it.” 

“Are you sure, baby?” 

“Yeah, everything's fine, really. I am having a lot of fun.” you reassured. 

“You sure?” 

“I mean, they’re nice. They are… but they’ve all been friends for years, and I’m just this new girl coming in and trying to fit in with them. That’s the only bad part; feeling like I have to prove myself or something… I don’t know. Girls are weird,” you peeled away at the skin on your lip as you spoke. 

“They’re excluding you? The fuck is wrong with those fucking women? Who the fuck do they think they are?” Roman’s heart beat began to accelerate and suddenly sleep was the last thing on his mind. 

“No, of course they aren’t excluding me. Destiny wouldn’t let that happen and you know it,” you said, “it’s just… they all have inside jokes and years of history together and y’know, here I come, Destiny’s new friend whose main bond with her is weird vargulf trauma.”

“I swear to God, baby, if I hear anything about them bullying you, no one will ever find the bodies. I’ll drain those snotty bitches for you,” he swore. 

You replied with a light hearted giggle, “I highly doubt that will be necessary. But is there something very wrong with me, that you threatening homicide for me, sorta turns me on?” 

Your comment was the pin to burst the anger that had begun to balloon in his chest. 

Roman snickered, “No, at least not to me. I think that’s what makes us work together.” 

You made a noise in thoughtful agreement.

“Roman? Can I ask you something?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Why aren’t you asleep? You came home from the club hours ago.” 

Roman let a beat of silence come over the receiver as he collected his thoughts. He was slightly embarrassed by the reason, and while he had come to the conclusion there were worse things in the world than being whipped, he didn’t want you to know how whipped he was for you. 

“Jus’ hard to sleep alone,” Roman mumbled into his phone, picking at a loose thread on the duvet. 

He heard you snort a laugh and twinge of shame flared in his belly. 

“Ro, you sleep without me all the time! I’m the needy one who can never sleep without you, remember? We go over this everytime you go out of town.”

“What? So, I’m some frigid monster without feelings? I can’t miss you? I can’t possibly not be able to sleep without you because I’m such an unfeeling asshole?” Roman carped defensively. 

“Mm, baby, I love when you put words in my mouth,” you were happily drunk, so while this could have been said with malice and venom during a fight, you said it with warmth and giggles now. 

“I never said that you are unfeeling or cold or an asshole. You are sometimes, but that’s beside the point,” Roman grumbled bitterly as you continued, “You’ve just never brought up not bein’ able to sleep when you’re away, is all. You go to Tokyo quarterly and it’s never come up when you get home.”

A jumbled, muffled response came from Roman’s end as his cheeks burned red. 

“What? Ro, I can’t hear you?” 

“I said, I… Jesus, fine. I said that I always refill my sleeping pills when I leave, ok? I pop an Ambien or two and that’s how I can sleep away from you,” he confessed, “and I don’t know, I guess I forgot to refill them before you left. So, yeah, whatever.” 

You didn’t immediately reply to Roman’s admission and his stomach began to churn with hot worry. Rationally, he knew that you wouldn’t ridicule him or tease him for his attachment to you and his acknowledgement of it. But the irrational side, the side that grew up with Olivia Godfrey as his mother, who would dull out affection only as a form of manipulation, made him feel sick. 

“Oh, Rome,” you cooed, your voice tender and comforting, “I never knew that… I, that’s actually really sweet.” 

Roman’s shoulders dropped, “Yeah?” 

“Yes! I think it’s very sweet. We can’t sleep without each other. I think it’s cute. I think that means something.” 

“Something good?” 

“I’d say so.”

Intense warmth flooded under Roman’s skin and filled his body with loose relaxation. He could hear the smile in your voice, and he could see you swaying in your heels, propping yourself up on a brick wall that bordered the building, and he knew you were wishing it was him. He wished it was him, too. He had never felt such a perverse envy of brick in his life, because it got to feel your soft skin and caress your flowing hair while Roman was a million miles away, craving the taste of you. 

Roman wished he could curl up inside your voice, that he could let your syllables embrace and pet him, let your sentences of sweeter things and kind compliments rock him to sleep and help him forget how far away you truly were.

After a few silent moments of simmering in each other’s long distance affection, Roman reluctantly spoke.

“You gotta go back in soon?” 

“Probably,” you gave a heaving sigh, “I don’t want them to worry or anything.” 

“Or have them give you shit for being whipped,” Roman said with a forced chuckle. 

He knew that this showed another chink in his armour, that his vulnerability glowed from underneath his comment. Sleep deprivation and loneliness was taking a toll on his filtering ability. 

“Pft,” you blew out the sound from your lips, “they already know that I’m whipped, Rome. I’m not much of a secret keeper.” 

You disclosed this without any stuttered worry or fear. You told Roman of your love and devotion to him without having to grit your teeth or wipe your clammy hands on your pants. It helped him feel comfortable in admitting his affections for you, but it was still much harder for him than it was for you. He knew that he needed to continue to work on divulging to you often and regularly of his love, because whenever you did, it filled Roman with the most remarkable and indescribable feeling. The feeling of stability and trust and happiness and the giddy feeling of knowing that the person you love most reciprocates. And Roman wanted most in life for you to feel that same way. 

“I miss you, Rome. I love you so much, but I gotta go,” you said, breaking through his thoughts. 

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I miss you, too. I love you,” Roman hoped you could hear his sincerity through the phone and your drunken haze. 

When you hummed contently, he knew you had. 

“Bye, baby,” 

“Make sure to text me when you’re back at the hotel, ok?” Roman interjected quickly before you hung up. 

“‘Course, honey. I love you!” and with that, the line went dead. 

Roman still tossed and turned and ached for your presence in his arms, but your short conversation had helped him eventually lull himself to sleep. His dreams were filled with short vignettes of you, sparks and flickers of your face. 

Just after mid-morning on Sunday, you gently stuck your key into the lock of your home’s door. You had texted Roman after you had boarded the plane home and when you landed in Pennsylvania, but you had yet to get a response. You were hopeful it was because your high strung boyfriend was still asleep, something you knew he needed.

After your over the phone heart to heart in the early hours of Saturday morning, Roman still only got fitful rest. Saturday night was much of the same, as he sent you a litany of text messages, ranging from attempts to sext to requests for Netflix show recommendations. You were beginning to feel slightly guilty for the sleep you were able to get on your hotel queen, but you mainly accredited your ability to fall into the grip of slumber from the copious amounts of alcohol you had consumed over the weekend. Even now, the effects of the alcohol still had you in a clutches. With sunglasses perched high on your nose and four Tylenol simmering in your stomach, all you wanted to do was finally be back in Roman’s arms and kiss him wherever your lethargic lips could reach. 

Once you had opened the door, you heaved your suitcases over the threshold and set your keys in the crystal dish that held Roman’s as well. You stretched your arms over your head with a squeaky moan, and inhaled deeply the smell of your home. There was something so comforting about coming home, no matter the extent of time away, and smelling the scent that your living space held. The smell that your senses accommodated to, the smell that you didn’t notice every day. Your and Roman’s shared home smelt like warm fabric softened linen and Roman’s favorite pine candle he had a stockpile of. It smelled like a hint of lemon from Anna’s disinfectant and a tad like cigarette smoke that lingered on Roman’s clothes. It smelled like Roman’s wafting cologne that made your knees buckle and your stomach flutter, and you swore you could smell your own in the air somewhere too. Maybe Roman had sprayed it in the air to comfort himself? You wouldn’t ask him if it was true, but it made you smile anyhow. 

You made your way deeper into the house, headed for the kitchen in search of a Gardorade and a granola bar before you went up to join Roman in your bedroom. Though as you rounded the corner to look into the living room, you were surprised to find Roman splayed out on the couch. Folded underneath his head was his pillow from upstairs, and draped over his lanky limbs was the thick duvet from the guest bedroom. The excess fabric pooled on the floor next to him, most of it having slipped off his body. 

Your heart thudded in your chest as you looked at him. His plump lips were spread and his jaw was lax. One of his arms was thrown over his head and the other over the back of the couch, while one of his legs had fallen off the cushions, causing his foot to lay flat on the floor. He must have been running on fumes for him to be so deep under while laying on the stiff designer couch so loosely. 

After a few more moments of admiring him, you decided to obtain your food before you went to wake him. Of course you had the option to leave him be, but you knew when he woke he would be angry if you came home and didn’t. That, and you wanted to be in his attention, even if it was just two and half days, you had missed him. 

With a few bites of your granola bar chased down by Gatorade, you walked over to Roman. You set your items down on the coffee table as you knelt next to his head. His nose scarcely scrunched and his eyelids twitched. You placed a gentle kiss to all three and he started to stir. 

“Roman? C’mon, wake up,” you whispered, brushing back a curled piece of his hair that had fallen on his forehead, “I’m home.” 

He let out a throaty groan as his eyes fought to flutter open. His adams apple bobbed and he pursed his lips before his beautiful emerald green eyes were revealed to you between languide blinks.

“Hey,” you grinned, finger combing his hair, “you finally get some sleep?” 

“(Y/N)? How long have you been home?” he asked, voice graveled from slumber. 

“Not even five minutes.”

“And you didn’t wake me?” 

“I’m waking you now,” you smiled, gripping his hair playfully. 

“Mmm,” he hummed, his arms that had been flung behind his head coming to grip you waist, “come here. C’mere, c’mere, c’mere.” 

You giggled as Roman grappled you with sleep soaked limbs to pull you on top of him. When he did, he brought his other arm down to snake around you, keeping you firmly to his body. You moved your hands up to cup his jaw, kissing him listlessly on his cheeks. 

“I missed you. Oh, I missed you,” you uttered and Roman’s arms tightening. 

“Fuck, God fuck, I missed you. I missed you so much,” Roman keened sleepily. 

You were sure he was being more candid because of how tired he was, but you didn’t care. 

“You’re never leaving again, ok? Never leavin’ my side again. Taking you everywhere with me from now on,” his hand skirted underneath the hem of your sweatshirt, his finger eagerly exploring your missed skin, “never letting you leave my sight.” 

“I’m ok with that,” you purred in his ear, kissing him with finality on his lips, “I don’t want to be anywhere you’re not.” 

Roman gave you a heavy lidded expression of pure bliss, “You make me happy.” 

“You make me happy, too.” 

You smiled down at him and propted yourself onto your elbows to get a better look at him, “Let’s go upstairs, baby. Our bed is better than this couch.” 

“Nah,” he groused, pushing you back down to his chest with a huff, “just here, just like this. Too tired to move.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, things are better now anyway.” 

Your cheeks ached from smiling as you nuzzled your nose to the column of his neck and Roman’s chest rumbled with happiness. 

Roman’s fingertips pressed into your back with comforting pressure and his other hand moved down to slip into the back of the waistband of your pants to feel the skin of your ass. 

He felt such a flood of contentment, he wondered just how he had survived at all these past few days without his fix of your skin, your smell, your kisses and you. He buried his face into your hair and ignored the way some of it found its way into his nose as he inhaled. He ignored the kink in his neck and the pain in his shoulders and the fact that he had accidentally ripped down the blinds in the bedroom the night before. Because now, nothing else mattered except you. Roman wished he could tell you just how he felt, all about this feeling. He wished he could tell you how he loved you with the entirety of his being and that you truly made him happier than anything else in the world. He hoped he figured it out soon, but for now, he knew this was enough. 

i hope you enjoyed! if so, i would love to hear your feedback (-:  and i know i am overloading you on fluff, but a very angsty story is in the works!

[fivelakesinwriting]

Idk if you are currently taking request but if you are could u do a rafe or jj imagine where the reader is plus size and someone makes fun of her and they get really protective and make her feel better ( could be smutty if ur ok with that style)

Author's Notes: I chose JJ ! Someone asked me for a fic about him the other day, so I thought it was fitting. If this was your request, I hope you love it xoxo

Warnings: Drinking, Body shaming, Swearing, Sexual references - Sexual Innuendos

Requested? Yes! Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

Outside the spare room at The Chateau, pre-drinks were in full swing. The laughter and loud music could be heard through the closed door while she laid on her back, staring at the ceiling. She didn't want to go to the party.

The door to the spare room flung open and a bag, soft, hit her in the face.

"Get up. You're not sitting around in here, feeling sorry for yourself. Find something in there you like, put it on and come out." Kiara stated as she stood at the foot of the bed with her arms crossed over her chest.

"I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I just..don't want to go." She sighed as she pushed the bag off her face and to the floor. She sat up on the bed and looked at her friend.

"You don't want to go to the first big party of the year? At the Boneyard? With JJ Maybank?" Kiara smirked as she walked into the room and shut the door behind her.

"Do I look like the kind of girl JJ Maybank goes to keggers with?" She mumbled as she ran her hands through her hair.

"Considering JJ has been wrapped around you all Summer? Yeah. You do." Kiara replied as she walked to the discarded bag on the floor, opened it, and pulled out a soft mint green cropped top. She held the shirt out to her friend and waited for her to take it.

"I can't wear that." She whispered with a shake of her head.

"Yes, you can. It was my cousin's and you guys are the same size. I was going to donate it, but never got around to it. Take it. It's yours. Besides, JJ will blow his lid when he sees you in it." Kiara grinned as she tossed the shirt at her friend's face, then turned on her heel and walked back out of the room.

She groaned as she held the cropped shirt in her hand. It was really cute, and she liked the colour. She took a deep breath, pulled off JJ's shirt she had all but stolen and replaced it with the cropped top. She stood up from the bed and walked over to the full length mirror on the other side of the bedroom.

She didn't hate it.

"Woman, how are long are you gonna make me wait because I'm the right amount of - whoa." JJ all but kicked the door down and stumbled into the bedroom, stopping in his path when he saw his girl in those high waisted jeans he liked and a cropped top he had never seen.

"It's bad, isn't it?" She mumbled as her fingers reached for the hem of the shirt, ready to take it off.

"Fuck no. I mean, you can take it off if you want. But not because it looks bad. It looks really, really good. Have your boobs always been that big?" JJ grinned, his eyes scanning her from top to bottom, then resting on her chest.

"Yes, JJ. They have always been this big." She laughed, her face heating up from his attention.

"Your ass looks so good in those jeans. I can't stand it." JJ groaned with a sip of his beer, before he stepped closer to her to palm her backside with his free hand.

"It doesn't look fat in these jeans?" She asked, her hands on his chest as she looked up at him.

"Oh, yeah. It does. I love it." JJ smirked as he bent down to press a kiss to her lips quickly, then smacked her backside to prompt her out of the bedroom and out with their friends.

*

JJ held her hand tightly as they walked through the sand of beach towards the keg. The Boneyard full of people already, even though it was early and a tipsy Pope had insisted they were "missing everything".

"A beer, m'lady?" JJ smiled as he let go of her hand in favour of placing his hand in the back pocket of her jeans.

"Okay." She nodded, her index finger hooked in his shark tooth necklace.

"Be right back." JJ mumbled as he pressed a kiss to her temple. He removed his hands from her body and walked towards the keg, leaving her standing by herself - the rest of the Pogues long gone.

She wrapped her arms around herself as she waited for JJ. Feeling self conscious as she waited. She never liked being alone, especially in public settings. It felt like all eyes were on her as she waited for JJ to come back with her much needed drink.

"Gross. Some people just should not wear cropped tops." Someone snickered behind her, followed by giggles.

Her heart sank and before she could stop them, she felt the tears well up in her eyes. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and frantically looked around for JJ. She wanted to go. Now.

"Well, some dogs belong on leashes but someone was nice enough to let you off for a night." JJ spat as he came up on her right side, his hand protectively on her waist as he glared at the group of girls.

"Fuck you, Maybank." One of the girls sneered before turning away, leading her friends towards a group of Kook boys.

"You tried to! Fuck that bitch." JJ mumbled as he reached over to his girl and handed her one of the plastic cups between his fingers.

"JJ, I want to go." She clutched the cup in her hand, her eyes on their feet.

"No, don't be like that. Don't let a group of dumb girls break you like that. Have one beer with me, and then if you still want to leave then we'll walk home." JJ replied, his eyes soft as he looked her up then down. He placed his fingertips on the bottom of her cup and gently pushed it up to her lips with a smile.

"Fine. One beer. For you." She sighed before she sipped at the beer, grimacing at the ridiculous amount of foam in the cup.

"I had to tap the keg, and it's been a while." JJ shrugged, sipping his own foamy beer.

She let out a laugh and leaned against him, a shake of her head as she looked out at the beach full of people. JJ's hand slipped into the back pocket of her jeans again, bringing her as close as he could.

"I think you should wear just that shirt for me tonight. Only that." JJ mumbled as he pressed a kiss beside her ear.

"JJ." She blushed, trying to pull away from him but he kept his hand on her backside firm.

"Don't go anywhere. Stay close. I see those tourons over there looking at you in these jeans. I'm gonna finish this foamy beer, then take you back to the van." JJ muttered his eyes burning holes into the boys with popped collars, not from the OBX.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not having sex with you in J.B's van?" She laughed, pulling on his shirt for his attention.

"You'll come around to it. I just want these jeans off you. C'mon, gorgeous." JJ smirked with a swift smack of her backside, prompting her in the direction of Twinkie.

"JJ.." She laughed turning towards him, only to bump into his strong chest as he pinned her against the side of the old van.

"Get in there, and take these pants off. I want to see your gorgeous body under those stupid lights John B put in there. All those pretty little lines on your thighs and tummy." JJ muttered, his nose brushing against hers as he tossed his cup to the ground.

"He calls it mood lighting." She smiled, her hands on his face to keep him close.

"Well, my mood is that I want my girlfriend's pants off so I can put my tongue on those pretty little stretch marks. So. Hop to it." JJ grinned with a pat of her thighs before he reached behind her to slide open the door of the van.

"You're going to get me arrested for public indecency one day, Maybank." She giggled as she crawled into the van.

"Cross that bridge." JJ grumbled as he laid a firm smack to her backside and climbed in after her.

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much! xoxo

Requests for OBX ARE OPEN!