#I GUESS HE KNOCKED OVER THE MOSTLY EMPTY LITTLE CUP OF IT ONTO HIS FACE??? OR SOMETHING???

[payasita]

GOD so i hear my brother freaking out in the living room like "MANDO WHAT HAPPENED??? ARE YOU OKAY???" and i run out and there is what looks like a GIANT red gash down the dog's forehead and snout

bro goes what do we do and i direct him to hold onto mando and clean the gash off with a wet towel while i look for some neosporin but the thing is. this dog is scared of Everything. he is 55 lbs of Run From Scary Plastic Bag Noise instinct and nothing else, and so i thought hed be freaking out more, or that we'd have at least heard SOME commotion when he gouged himself. but no he's just sitting there chilling out while bro wipes gunk off his face

so i just kinda. squint. "are we sure it's blood"

bro goes "i dunno?" and so i just like. turn on some lights, and we confirm whatever it is sure does Look like it's just sitting on top of the fur. so i lean in for a sniff.

it's salsa. from my carne asada fries

[pokedawriter]

PART 2:

The answer was no. No I had not. Time to fix that, I guess.

I go up the rest of the stairs, careful to skip the more sketchy ones. As the poor college student I am, instant ramen will once again be my dinner tonight. But I am no peasant! I add a soft-boiled egg to my ramen, like the classy bitch I am.

A classy bitch who’s poor, but a classy bitch nonetheless.

Stepping onto the balcony, I slurp my noodles while looking out at the nearby woods, enjoying the peace and quiet. The trees rustle with the breeze, the multicolored leaves shifting around. Beneath me, I hear another balcony door slide open then… the sound of a fan? I place my mostly empty noodles on the balcony railing, then lean over the edge.

My downstairs neighbor is putting a blanket over his balcony railing, before he heads back inside. The fan is positioned to be blowing into the apartment, though I can’t see inside. I do hear sweeping inside, and moments later, gray tufts of fur float onto the balcony. He must be the guy who owns the dog.

I lean over the railing a little more, hoping that I’ll be able to see the pupper, but the wind decides now’s a good time to blow a little harder, which sends my hair into my face and my noodles over the edge…

Splatting right onto my downstairs neighbor’s blanket, the now completely empty noodle cup rolling on his balcony.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” I yelp. Before he can respond, I run back inside my apartment. Shoving my feet into my shoes, I hurry downstairs and knock on his door. It soon swings open, revealing a taller man with a mop of brown hair on his head. He sort of reminds me of a beanpole, but now is not the time to think of gardening. Or beans.

“I am so sorry! The wind knocked my noodles over. I thought it would be heavy enough not to be blown over,” I explain quickly, silently lamenting the loss of my classy-bitch-egg that I never got to eat.

“It's fine,” the man replies, his voice gruffer than I expected. “I can just wash it again. Shame my dryer isn’t working though.” A small puff of gray fur rolls out of his apartment and stops on my foot.

“Do you have a dog?” I blurt out. It's too late. My brain is thinking about one thing and one thing only now: dogs. The man stiffens a bit, as my thoughts whirl about what type of dog he has. It must be a long haired breed, right? Since there is all this fur. And this grey color… Oh! The howling last night! I must be a husky! Oh my gosh, there is a husky in there and I may be able to pet it if I-

“No, I don’t,” he says slowly, his eyes darting around my face.

I can’t help it when my expression falls. “Oh.” Then confusion. “Then why do you have so much fur in your apartment?” Ah yes, I love it when my mouth is much faster than my brain.

He pauses for a little, his mouth open slightly. Damn his canine teeth are LORGE. “My… cousin brings his dog over sometimes,” he trails off.

So pupper sometimes, got it. “That’s awesome!” I smile. “Next time he brings the dog over, may I meet it?” I bounce a little, then almost slip because my shoes aren’t on completely. I take this moment to make sure my heels are actually in the shoes.

“Uh,” my neighbor sweats a little, biting his lower lip. “Maybe..? The dog isn’t very friendly.”

Oh. Once again my face falls and my disappointment must be very obvious because my neighbor flinches slightly. I try to pick up my smile. “It's okay! The dog’s comfort is most important.” His eyes widen a little. “Anyways, sorry about my noodles,” I smile sheepishly while rubbing my neck. “You mentioned your dryer’s not working. If you want you can borrow mine. Or I can look at yours? Or both?”

“It's really no problem,” he mumbles looking backwards into his apartment, probably towards the blanket. I shake my head.

“That’s what I should be saying,” I sigh. “It's getting colder at night now, it's important to have enough layers.” Gosh, I sound like my mother. “It's not like we have fur to cover our bodies,” I joke. My neighbor does not laugh. Embarrassment decides to crawl up my cheeks and make them redder. “A-anyways! Please let me look at your dryer!”

For a moment I think he’ll say no again, as he examines me, sizing me up. Finally, he steps aside and opens the door more. I step inside and he closes the door behind us. “I never caught your name,” I say as I follow him in.

“Diego,” he says simply, leading me into the living room.

“Nice to meet you, Diego. My name is-” my words catch in my throat. Diego’s place is destroyed. The couches are torn up and ripped, their stuffing popping out in some spots. There are gashes on the walls and floors, but the most prominent issue is the sheer amount of fur that is EVERYWHERE. He must have groomed that husky in here for there to be that much fur, jeeze.

Diego glances back at me, examining my face as I take everything in. My rationality is asking how the hell this place got so busted, while my anxiety tells me to shut up and not ask. “Bet that dog is a cutie,” I say, deciding to focus my attention on the dryer.

“Maybe. More a menace though,” he mutters the second part under his breath but I laugh anyway. His dryer, like mine, is in the kitchen and I walk over to it as he gets his blanket from the balcony. Like everything else, it's blanketed in fur. I press the start button and it goes, surprising me.

“Seems like it's working just fine?” I turn to Diego, confused.

He shakes his head. “It’ll go, but it doesn’t dry anything.” He says as he shoves his blanket into the washer.

“Does it still get warm?” He nods, and I think I already know the solution.

I open the door and pull out the lint catcher and, yep, it's completely full. Pulling out the carpet of lint and holding it up, I look at Diego, my mouth in a tight frown. The only word that escapes me is “Bruh.”

He tilts his head slightly like a confused puppy. “What’s that?”

“The lint trap, man. You gotta clean this out every time you use the dryer,” I say, grimacing. “You’re lucky this didn’t start a fire!”

His eyes go wide, looking between me, the lint slab dangling from my hand, the dryer then back at me. I shake my head, put the lint trap back and place the compacted fluff into the trash. If he doesn’t know this… his vent is probably clogged too. I look at his room and the open balcony door with the fan outside and the fur rolling around on the floor.

“Okay, Diego, this is what’s gonna happen,” I sigh. “Can you pull your dryer out while I grab something from my apartment upstairs?” He nods and as I start to leave I hear a rubber rumble as he easily yoinks the machine away from the wall. Who knew Mr. Beanpole had it in him.

A few minutes later, I’m back from my apartment with the leaf blower my dad insisted I bring, despite me living in an apartment. Hose to the vent, I turn the blower and we go to the balcony and watch the lint fly out from a vent on the side of the building.

“We’ll let that go for a few minutes, then we can use the leaf blower to blow all the fur onto the balcony or out the front door,” I smile.

“You’re very handy,” Diego returns my smile with a little one of his own. “Do you think… you could look at something else, too?”

“Of course,” I nod. Yesss, give me all those good neighbor points and forget that fact I dropped noodles from the sky.

He points to his window air conditioner. “This isn’t working as well compared to when I first got it. And it heats up a lot.”

“Something’s probably wrong with the filter,” I say as I go over to it, turning the machine off. I open it up and- yup, the filter is dirtier than my search history. JK, haha… at least I didn’t say that out loud.

An explanation and a call later, I’m sitting at Diego’s desk ordering him a new filter because the landlord, as I fucking predicted, said he wouldn’t cover the cost of a new one. “Does the dog come often?” I ask, scrolling through Amazon.

“Dog?” Diego echoes back as he does the head tilt thing again.

“Your cousin’s dog?”

“Oh! Yeah, uh, that dog,” he looks away for a moment. “About, uh, once a month.”

“Once a month? And you get all this fur?” I look at him, eyes wide. Maybe I’m off on the husky mark. Maybe it's a great pyrenees? Or a chow chow? Who knows.

Diego’s face goes red and he looks away. “Um, yeah.”

“Then you’ll definitely want a filter that also helps with animal hair,” I scroll a bit and select a few for him to choose from. “Here, sit here.” He obediently sits and looks at the options while I go back out to the living room and use the leaf blower to remove the fur all over the ground. Once it’s on the balcony, I take the puffs by the handful and toss them over the ledge. All better.

Now his living room. Still a clawed mess, but… hey, I could fix it. A bit of caulk or spackling compound there, then sand and add primer and paint… maybe it's for the best that the landlord didn’t come to replace the filter.

Diego emerges from his office moments later. “Um… thanks, for all your help.” He bites his lip, and shifts his weight from leg to leg.

“Sure, happy to help,” I smile back. “And, uh, sorry about the noodles.”

He shakes his head. “It's alright. You’ve more than paid me back for that.” He looks away for a moment, then extends his hand. “Would you, um, be willing to trade phone numbers? You seem to know a lot more about home stuff than I do.”

I can’t help the huge smile that crosses my face. “Sure!” I take his phone and enter my contact information. Always good to get my neighbor’s contact info. Plus! This means I can ask him when the dog is next coming.

He sends me a text and I confirm I got it. I was going to put his full name, but then I saw he put me as ‘Sky Noodle Girl’ in his phone, so I put him as ‘Doggie Diego’, which he rolled his eyes at, still smiling.

I head back up the stairs and enter my own apartment. My still very empty and not unpacked apartment. Fuck. And I have homework. Double fuck.

And I didn’t even finish my noodles!

…

I’ve been here for two days and three nights and my shit shack is already testing my patience. Well, the landlord is.

“My foot went through one of the stairs,” I try to say as cordially as I can. The fresh scratch from the broken wood stings, a bit of blood trickling out.

The landlord doesn’t even look at me, opting instead to scroll on his phone. “And?”

“It's a safety hazard,” I manage to say through gritted teeth.

He shrugs. “Not my problem. I live in the basement.”

This motherfucker-

“If it bothers you that much, go fix it yourself,” his game jingles happily, and he sneers. “Not that you can.”

Once my skin clears up, I lose 10 pounds, fix those damn stairs, finish my homework, learn how to properly do eyeshadow, comb my hair and become mentally stable, it's over for this bastard.

Until then, he can go fuck himself on the broken pieces of wood that was the stairs while I actually do something about it.

One rage building session later, I’ve replaced all the stairs to the first floor.

I lay on the ground next to my new stairs, which still need to dry from the paint, properly zonked. Hyper-focusing it great to do things, but fuck, the exhaustion finally catches up to me, my body sore. Swallowing feels like sandpaper is trying to go down and my stomach growls angrily at me for forgetting its existence.

Two familiar faces appear in my view: my neighbor from the first night and Anna.

“What are you doing?” Anna asks. She’s in the exact same doll clothes as before, her blush still overwhelming her face, but at least she blinks at me now. Even if it does seem awkwardly forced.

“Laying on the ground,” I croak out.

“You sound thirsty,” she states. I nod. “Want me to get you water?”

“Please do,” I force a smile and Anna disappears from my sight. Weirdly, I don’t hear her footsteps. Must be one of those creepy kid things.

Well, it's just me and the neighbor from the first night.

“Would you like assistance in sitting up?” he asks with a smile. I nod and soon I’m sitting upright.

“Whew,” I hold my head, feeling the blood rush down. There’s a puff of heat on my neck, then… cold water splashes onto me.

“MOTHERFUuuuuuuuuudger. Fudger,” I manage to withhold from cussing, again, as I look up and see Anna with an empty glass, her arm through the railings.

“Bad, Nikolas,” she puffs. “Don’t touch the quiet door lady.”

I might have been splashed, but my neighbor, Nikolas, is soaked, his hooked nose and black hair dripping with water. He grimaces, but dries his face with a white handkerchief.

“He was just helping me up, Anna,” I try to reassure her, giving her a smile. Hey, at least she likes me. I’ll take my good neighbor points where I can. “I’m okay.”

“Yes, she’s quite fine,” Nikolas grumbles, and he glares at Anna. Which, uh, excuse me, is not a look to give a child. But it seems like this is a normal interaction for them, as she only further narrows her eyes at him.

All the outdoor lights flicker and I glance around. Are the shadows on the walls growing? Does the building seem… taller? A shiver runs down my spine and the hairs on the back of my neck shoot up. What the fuck? Man, I must be tired.

Nikolas sighs and lifts both his hands in a surrender position. “Message received, Anna.”

All of a sudden, everything is normal again. Anna nods and turns around, and I hear her steps this time as she walks away.

Now I level a look at Nikolas. “Don’t pick fights with kids, man. Not cool.”

He looks at me wide eyed, with one brow higher than the other. “Pardon?”

“You gave Anna a nasty glare there,” I shake my head. “That’s not cool, man. She’s just a kid. It's a lot better to explain to her why dumping water is unacceptable than glare and go quiet. Even with children, communication is key.”

His mouth opens slightly and he narrows his eyes as if trying to examine me closer. Then he shakes his head. “Fine.”

I nod. “Good.” There’s a short pause. “Hey, does the electricity falter like that often?”

“What?”

“Do the light flicker like that often? If it was just one of them, I’d think the bulb was dying but since it was all of them, there might be a problem with the building’s wiring,” I explain.

Nikolas looks like I just asked him if he had a foot fetish: thoroughly confused, disappointed and questioning his existence. “... What?”

Just as I’m about to ask him for the third time, Anna's voice suddenly comes from behind me. “Water.”

I jump slightly, but gratefully take the glass. “Thanks, kiddo.” I smile and ruffle her curly hair, which feels strangely like yarn. Huh, that’s cool. I wonder if that’s natural or not.

I down the water in and feel instantly refreshed, then I hand her the glass. “That hit the spot.”

Anna nods then parts her lips to show all of her teeth. Creepy, but I think that’s her attempt at a smile so I try not to flinch.

“Well,” I stand dusting sawdust off myself. “I think I should get some food and some rest.”

“What about your wound?” Nikolas says as he also stands.

“My what? Oh.” Right! The cut on my leg from when the stair broke earlier. It suddenly stings again, as if offended I forgot about it.

“It's fine. Just a scratch,” I laugh it off. I wonder how he knew I was injured? I have long pants on, so he couldn’t see it. Maybe my pant leg rolled up while I laid down. “I gotta put the tools back in the shed, but I’ll go straight home to clean it up afterwards.”

Nikolas and Anna both nod, Anna still showing all her teeth. He says something quietly to her, and the corners of her mouth lift into a proper -though slightly forced- smile.

But did I step on glass or something? It sounded like something cracked.

With nothing underneath my foot, I chalk it up to my overactive imagination and put the tools back in the shed. Once I leave, the stars are out and both Anna and Nikolas are gone. I head over to the stairs and I’m about to step on them, when I remember they still need to dry. Fuuuuuuuck.

I order Chinese delivery instead and eat on the ground next to the stairs. Once I’m done, I test the paint with my finger. Satisfied that it's dried, I go back to my apartment, shower and head to sleep in my bed for the first time.

As I drift off, I wonder how Anna and Nikolas got up and down the stairs without messing up the paint? Anna probably did creepy child magic or something and I imagine Nikolas parkouring up in his black suit, causing me to chuckle.

…

I was hoping to sleep in since I didn’t have class today, but a knock at my door wakes me from my slumber.

“Just five more minutes,” I groan. The knocking pauses, but comes back after a bit. Somehow, I drag myself out of the warm, soft, perfect bed and make my way to the front door, opening it a crack. “Yes?”

Nikolas stands there, under an umbrella for some reason, with his brow furrowed. He looks sunburnt, which might explain the umbrella. “You fix things, correct?”

“I mean, I guess?” Man, I should really start being paid for this. I’m too poor for free labor.

“Well,” he grimaces. “My roof has a hole.”

My eyes go wide and I stand taller. “Your roof has a what?”

“There is a hole in the roof, in my apartment,” he explains. “I tried to call the landlord, but…”

An annoyed sigh escapes me. “He said figure it out?”

Nikolas shakes his head. “No. He said he would get it fixed.”

“Well, that’s a new one,” I smirk. Damn bastard is finally doing his job.

“Yes, but,” Nikolas glares behind us, as if the landlord was there. “He said it could take several weeks.”

“WEEKS!?” I might have just woken someone else up with how loud I yelled.

Nikolas cringes but nods. “Yes, weeks.”

“It's about to be winter.”

“Yes.”

“There will be snow. And rain.”

“I’m aware.”

“And he can’t be bothered to fix it sooner?” I fume. Now that’s just fucked up. “I should report his ass to the police-”

“No!” Nikolas says quickly, and I blink. “He’s, uh,” Niklolas pauses and his eyes dart around, as if searching for words. “... A family friend? So, I don’t want to report him. I just want the problem fixed.”

There is a long pause. Oh, shit, I’m supposed to answer.

“Okay… I’ll try to fix your roof, but I need you to promise something.”

Nikolas frowns. “... Go on.”

“Be nicer to Anna,” I say simply.

He studies me for a moment then nods. “I can do that.”

I turn to go get changed, then face him again. “One more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Please pay for the materials. I’m so poor, man. I have $34.28 cents in my bank account, right now.”

He laughs. And I mean really laughs. Which, kind of rude to laugh at how poor I am, but I did say it in a half-joking way, so he can get a pass (I really do only have $34.28 though, so please buy the materials, Nikolas).

“That,” he chuckles. “I can do.”

A trip to the hardware store, a ladder, a shingle or two to Nikolas’ knee, and a saw later, the hole is patched. It's not perfect, but it's good enough until a proper roofer can come and fix it. I climb down the ladder and dust my hands.

“The hole appeared because the wood rotted. The shingles above the hole were missing, which explains how the water got there,” I explain to Nikolas. “So I cut out the rotten parts, created a frame, added new plywood, tar paper and shingles, and badabing, badaboom, it's done. And it only took me…” I look at my watch and sigh. “5 hours.”

Man, my time perception is absolutely fucked. I thought it had only been 2, maybe 3 hours.

Nikolas, who’s been under his umbrella while inside as well, exhales, his shoulders relaxing. “Much appreciated. Your handiwork is to be admired.”

My cheeks heat up at the compliment and I look away to hide my smile. “Aww, shucks. Well, thank you.”

“My dear, it is my pleasure,” he smiles, and I notice -like Diego- Nikolas also has pointy canine teeth, however, his are longer and more narrow than Diego’s. “Now, I can handle the clean up, you get some rest.”

He escorts me to his front door and as I’m about to leave, he asks me to wait, then pulls out a wad of cash, bound by those little strips of paper, and hands it to me. “For your hard work.”

“What?” I look at the money incredulously. “I can’t accept this.” Gosh that money looks good. If I take it, I could probably afford rent this month. Maybe even next month too! It's very tempting...

I shake my head, my inner self crying. “No need. You already paid for the materials. I was happy to help.” I can already see me groveling to my father for cash.

“I insist,” Nikolas says as takes my hand and places the money in it. “You’ve greatly helped me today. The first floor stairs have also never looked better.”

“Thank you,” I smile and tell myself not to spend it on video games. “I really appreciate it.”

We bid farewell, and when I get to my apartment, I count the cash. $100… $200… $300… $400… $500, oh my fucking gosh, its still going. $600… $700… $800. The final amount is $800.

Bro that’s enough for 2 months rent and then some! I can afford something other than noodles! I could buy meat.

You move into a suspiciously low rent apartment, that’s in some disrepair but not enough to account for the price. It turns out the other occupants are all evil supernatural beings. They set out to torment you, but then discover that you have done more to repair the building than the landlords.

[kirascottage]

hey! could you write a fluff fic of lip gallagher x reader? maybe something where he’s protective? love your writing! - nina <3

always choosing you

lip gallagher x f. reader

summary: lip saves you while at a party.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: soft and protective lip all in one, swearing, alcohol, mentions of trauma, non-consensual touching (just the waist), mentions of violence, kissing, mentions of sex (1x)

join my taglist here !

“Babe, this tastes disgusting.” You scowled while referring to the red solo cup in your hand. At your distasteful words, Lip’s head had whipped over to your twisted face, studying your wry grimace then looking at the poorly made drink most likely whipped up by a Sophomore that had no idea how to mix alcohol.

“Here, take mine.” Without a second thought, he quickly swapped the drink in your hand with his own, Vodka Cranberry. The drink he voluntarily handed you was a translucent shade of dull red and it fizzed at the top. Taking a sip, your brow arched in a consensus of the pleasant-tasting beverage.

To a family like the Gallagher’s, it was portrayed as a psychedelic for Lip Gallagher to be seen as a caring individual rather than a belligerent boy without any anger control. (especially to someone like Fiona) His emotional trauma merely enabling him to hide his concealed emotions from others, but like any other person, it took tremendous work that you were willing to put in.

“Hey, you wanna go soon?” His eyes naturally drifted around the party as he questioned you with a gentle hand sitting comfortably at your waist, his thumb moving slowly over the material of your shirt. “Sure, lower-class man parties are always a bummer.” You mutually agreed, glimpsing as to how his eyes travel across the room to a familiar redhead.

“I’m gonna go tell Ian, you good here?” His thumb pointed in a backwards direction as he walked the same way, you nodded in approval before he was off with his shoes tapping in sync to the music as he proceeded to the Kitchen while you stood in the living room against a wall.

It wasn’t usual for Lip to willingly leave you alone, especially in social situations like this one with intoxicated teenagers at your every corner. He once claimed a wannabe Tristan Dugray from Gilmore Girls would sweep you off your feet and carry you off to the sunset but you declared that would be spurious.

You picked at your nails for the first few minutes, growing bored as you waited, your fingers following the curvature of the cup along with the slight indentations and lines as your patience grew thin. Most likely Ian was stuck in a conversation with long-haired Milkovich, and he wouldn’t wanna leave just yet, his usual stall techniques including whining to his eldest brother.

Your evident impatience had swallowed you whole, eventually abandoning the remains of the drink at a battered table so your arms could cross in front of your chest and your foot tapped insanely quick against the floor. Now that tapping would've bothered anyone as the music vibrated through the drywall and the neighbours were nearing annoyance with the deliberation of filing a noise complaint.

As you were just about to set off to the kitchen, slender fingers gripped at your belt loops hauling you closer to the point your rear had struck the male stranger's chest.

“Hey! What the fu—“

“What’re you doing here all alone?” You attempted to harshly to move away at the poor tone of male seduction but the firm grip on your denim loops was restricting you from such.

“You see, I'm not alone so if you’d—“ You gestured impatiently to his hand with a curt glint in your tone whilst looking back at him; but, he cut you off with a brisk ‘S’alright, baby. I’ll take care of you.’ And no intention of letting you go.

You huffed with a squirm as his disengaged hand grasped at your waist where the emptiness of Lip’s hand had formerly been. “I have a fucking boyfriend—“ You inevitably began to yell over the music at the boy you could recognize as Clint Eastwood from your English class with a drunken smirk plastered onto his features.

This time it wasn’t his slurred voice cutting you off once again, it was a familiar rage-ridden Gallagher. “Get your hands off my fucking girlfriend.” Lip’s baritone became hoarser by the word as his hands hastily gripped at the boy's collared shirt whilst you stumbled by Ian who had briskly caught your arm hoisting you upright.

“Sorry! Dude, I didn’t know she—“

“Really? I clearly fucking heard her say she had a boyfriend,” His scowling brows drew together tightly and his lips pursed at the boy's face trembling in justified fear; as the scene grew larger with frequent yells occurring from Lip, most attendees of the party queued in on the scene.

“I guess idiots like you don’t know how to take a fucking hint.” Lip would’ve severely beaten his face in till Clint was due a trip to the ER but your magnifying grip at the back of his torso was enough to subdue his nerves and release the male off to the side and make his way to the car while gripping your hand the silent way there as the music grew fainter.

The car ride was silent, Lip’s hands gripped the wheel hard enough for distinctive marks to melt into the leather of the disk-shaped circle. He was well indeed sober, the only drink he had consumed was the one he had given to you and mostly full when it came into your possession.

When the car paused in the Gallagher driveway, wordlessly, Ian had left the car to give the both of you a moment, cautiously entering the chaotic household where most of his siblings had been asleep; Fiona being the only one awake where she had been watching a movie with V as Debbie laid on her lap. Yet, Lip hadn’t even moved his hands from the ignition; he had barely even blinked or twitched.

“Lip,” Your voice whispered, filling in the empty void of the vehicle. He silently looked over with his head slumped against the head seat, “What’s wrong?” Another whisper, your fingers rested comfortably on his knee.

“I just—“ He sighed, “—I don’t like the way he was touching you. Nobody should touch you like that.” He paused thoughtfully amid his heated sentence, clearly hesitant. Though, you remained silent as you were taciturnly aware that he was nowhere near finished.

“What if he wasn’t a creep and it was some guy that could offer you so much better than I could. I don’t want you to get hurt, but I also don’t want to hurt you.” His cerulean optics drifted over to his knee where you had been drawing circles over the denim, his anxious eyes remaining focused before you spoke up and his attention had diverted back to you.

“So don’t.” You offered a faint smile, “You’re not your parents, Lip. Take it one day at a time, if you don’t want to hurt me then you’re not going to.” You shook your head as you spoke.

“You could’ve knocked that guy into oblivion but you didn’t, and I know why you didn’t. I’m not gonna push you; Just take it day by day with me, okay?” He lethargically nodded in response, drinking in your words slowly as they enveloped his brain in a tight squeeze. Your monologue clinging to his mind as he would require those words later on.

Silently, you drifted your eyes back to the house, your eyes retaining on the Gallagher residence as he spoke. “Stay the night?”

You returned your head back to him and grinned in response, pecking his lips a few times before hopping out of the car as he followed. Trudging towards the wrought gate as he gripped at your hand, gently leading you through his house but pausing once to wave at Fiona which she reciprocated with a gleeful nod and a wave.

You had thought you entered his shared room rather quietly, changing into a shrunken pair of basketball shorts and a navy blue sweater both of which had belonged to your boyfriend. As you climbed the bunk, an adolescent boy had begun speaking with sleep lacing his words, “You better not be having sex, I'm trying to sleep.” Carl finished with a snore as he shuffled.

You both hastily muffled your laughs whilst cautiously climbing into the top bunk where his sheets laid messily due to him not making his bed the morning prior. You took very little time situating yourselves, the tip of your chin laying on his shoulder, and you were laid on your stomach. Meanwhile, his arm curled around your back and his stomach had faced the texturized ceiling.

You both laid there silently for a few minutes, maybe even a half-hour. Most likely Ian had passed out on the couch, and Carl’s snores had filled the room so it was a guarantee that it was safe to speak without any eavesdropping.

“I’ll always choose you.”

For a moment you thought he was asleep as well by how still he remained, till his face had carefully turned millimeters from yours. “I don’t care if it’s an Italian mafia man or some belligerent idiot from English class. I’ll always choose you, Philip Gallagher.” You muttered into his shoulder, a tinge of minor embarrassment creeping stealthily up your neck at the sappy confession.

“I’ll always choose you, too.” He whispered back, he wasn’t much for words but he could always muster up a considerable fraction of what you meant to him. Kissing the tip of your nose, he whispered again whilst placing his chin on your forehead. “Now go to sleep, or you’ll be bitchy in the morning.”

taglist: @miiamour @bugswrld @zzzfour @black-rose-29 @sprucewoodlover @bloodyrockwork @myalupinblack

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Heart-Shaped Box💟9/End

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), forced pregnancy, some violence, intimidation, some elements untagged for sake of plot.

This is dark!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Sister Series: Get Your Fix

Summary: You accept a job as an au pair, but not all is as it seems.

Note: Finally finishing this one up. Sorry it took me ages but I’m doing my best to go back and wrap up whatever I can.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Masterlist

Bucky pulled out of you as he held your head down, bouncing the bed beneath you as he pushed himself onto his back. You panted as your sweat dampened the sheet beneath you and he leaked between your thighs. You winced as you rolled onto your side and slowly sat up. 

He had you whining loud enough that you had no doubt your guests heard it all. It only seemed to encourage his partner-in-crime as you soon heard a similar scene on the other side of the wall. You were sickened by that noise and stood warily as you cupped your hand over your cunt and scooped up his cum before it could drip onto the floor.

“I told you to keep it down,” he snickered and sat up, his muscled back to you as he stretched his arms above him, “get the shower started, I’ll be in shortly. You girls have a lot of work to do today.”

You grumbled and dragged your feet to the attached bathroom. The low buzz of the pipes filled the silence and you stepped under the steamy water. The moment of calm broke sharply as Bucky appeared from the other side of the curtain and stepped in behind you. He had you clean him with a lathered loofah and you bore it only for the eventuality of time away from him.

The other woman meant you wouldn’t be trapped with just him. It was little help or hope but it was better than your former solitary torture.

You dressed in black dress with daisies and made yourself look like his perfect housewife. You couldn’t hold the smile and make him believe it all the way but he wouldn’t anyway. He flicked your chin and clicked his tongue.

“Mmm, you’re getting there,” he mused as he dropped his hand and reached around to slap your ass, “better go get breakfast on. I’ll check in on our guests.” He squeezed and winked, “be a good girl.”

Those words made your insides curdled but you swallowed your disgust and nodded, “yes, sir.”

He stepped out behind you and watched you go down the hall to the stairs and you heard him knock on the door as you descended. You went to the kitchen and pulled out the frying pan and the coconut oil. You lined up the ingredients for crepes on the counter and took two bananas from the yellow bunch. Your mother used to make the oversweet delicacy and you needed a reminder that you were still that girl.

You stopped as you searched for something to keep the crepes warm after you assembled them, a lid that could fit over the plate or something akin to it. The lower cupboards you rarely opened. Bucky left the cleaning supplies on the counter with your chore list every day and you never bothered to look for anything else.

You stopped and stared at the drain cleaner and the can of toxic oven spray. Well, that wouldn’t be subtle enough, would it? They’d smell either of those a mile away. Anything under the counter would be easily discovered but it did give you an idea.

You closed the wooden door and went back to your task. You heard the voices in the next room and the scrape of the chairs on the floor. Steve’s girl appeared in the doorway, rubbing her stomach as her face contorted.

“Smells sweet,” she said as you simmered the bananas with brown sugar, cinnamon, and a little butter, “almost too sweet.”

“Morning sickness?” you asked innocently.

“All the time sickness,” she sighed, “anything I can help with?”

“Do you know how to make crepes?” you asked as you whisked the batter.

“Not really,” she shrugged, “but I can learn.”

“It’s easy. Takes less than a minute,” you waved her over and tested the temperature of the pan with a flick of water, “so you wanna put just a little batter in…” you ladled in a careful dollop and lifted the pan, “you spread it like this,” you tilted it so the batter spread all around, “you just use the spatula a little on the edges to make sure they don’t stick and you flip.”

It was like second nature and she nodded quietly as she watched. The crepe cooked quickly and you threw it onto a plate and put the pan back to the burner.

“You think you can handle that?” you covered the plate with the lid of a pat to keep it warm. “Then we put some of the bananas and wrap them, bit of cream on top and some icing sugar…”

“You like to cook?” she wondered as she added batter to the hot pan.

“Not particularly, but my mother taught me,” you shrugged, “she can cook anything.”

“Oh,” she flipped the crepe and glanced at the door, “I suppose… it keeps him happy.”

“He’s never happy,” you murmured and cleared your throat, “so, you must be excited to move in!”

“I guess,” she slid the crepe onto the plate as you lifted the foggy lid, “you know how it is.”

You smiled and she tilted her head as she squinted at you. You went to the drawer where there was a box of blank recipe cards and continued speaking as you fished out a pencil from another.

“It’s always nice to get settled,” you said as you wrote, ‘they can hear us’.

“I suppose, nice to be in one place,” she replied stiffly as her features relaxed.

‘I have a plan,’ you wrote and raised your voice just slightly, “oh, you know, we didn’t even get you a housewarming gift. I’ll have to remind James.”

You went to the burner and held out the card under the coil until it caught. You threw it into the sink and watched it burn and curl. You ran water over it as it turned to ash and washed it away. You nudged the bowl towards her and leaned on the counter, “need help with that?”

“No,” she said as she started again, “I’m getting the hang of it.”

💟

You looked around the front room of the house next door. Steve’s girl opened one of the stacked boxes. For once, the men were gone and you could just enjoy their absence. 

Bucky agreed that a gift was in order and Steve had mentioned wanting to explore their new hometown. You tried not to seem eager but even the small walk across the lawns enlivened you. How long had it been since you’d been outside?

You started with the pictures. You left the frames in a stack as she assured you Steve would put the nails in and hang them. Then you moved onto the kitchenware and you kept her from lifting the heavy box of dishes. She seemed to forget about her condition and the reminder made her frown.

You stood behind the counter and set the dishes in the cupboards one at a time, the plates clacking one on top of each other. She watched from the other side as she arranged the silverware in the plastic tray.

“Can you do me a favour?” you asked as you kept on.

“What?” she asked as she dropped a butter knife with the rest.

“I know they’ve locked us in but can you check the garage door? Can we get in there?” you asked evenly.

“What?” she blinked and pushed herself straight, “even if we can, they won’t have been stupid enough--”

“That’s not what I’m worried about. I know we can’t get out that way either. It’s the same at our house. Everything is bolted up tight.” You assured her, “just go and check while I get these sorted.”

She left you and you snapped shut the door and finished with the utensils. You slid the tray into the drawer as she returned, rubbing her stomach.

“Yeah, we can get in but it’s mostly empty,” she said, “so…”

“Mostly empty?”

“Yeah, just the car--”

“The car,” you rounded the counter and curled two fingers for her to follow you.

You headed for the plain white door that led to the garage. You hopped down the steps as she remained at the top and watched you tentatively. You went to the car as she crossed her arms.

“He took the keys,” she said.

You tried the handle and the door opened. “I know,” you said as you put a knee in the front seat and peered into the back. Nothing. 

You felt around under the dash and found the lever for the trunk. You pulled it and it popped. You shut the door and went around the back of the car. You felt around the spare tire and your hand felt something plastic. You grabbed the handle of the half-filled jug and pulled it out.

“Hey,” you held up the bright blue anti-freeze, “do you wanna cook dinner here tonight? A housewarming dinner?”

Her brows knitted and she gave a long blink. Her lips parted then curved.

“You can’t mean--” she let out a scoff.

“It’s sweet. Hopefully they won’t notice if I add enough sugar to the cake,” you breathed, “we can’t let them settle. This is our chance.”

“I don’t-- I don’t know. What if it doesn’t work?”

“Then we’re still in the same boat,” you turned your free hand out, “that man has drugged me for months. I think it’s only fair that he gets a taste of his own medicine.”

She swallowed and looked down at her stomach. She inhaled and cradled her bump. “It can’t get worse than this, can it?”

💟

You spent the day unpacking, the distraction not much of one as you thought of the bottle you hid at the back of the cupboard. By the time the men returned, you were ready to move onto the second floor. 

Bucky offered a bottle of non-alcoholic wine and basket of expensive macarons as your gift to your new neighbours. He forced a kiss from you before he let you follow Steve’s girl upstairs.

You sat in the bedroom and heard the men ascend shortly after. You peeked in on them as you opened the linen closet to shove in the spare sheets. They were hammering together a crib. You knocked lightly on the doorframe as you watched them.

“Huh, what’s going on?” Bucky looked up from the directions.

“Um, we were just… thinking, we could have dinner here tonight? A little housewarmer? I could grab some ingredients from ours--”

“Give me a list, I’ll grab it,” Bucky puffed as he bent to help hold the rail in place for Steve, “that sound okay?”

“Fine by me,” Steve smiled, “it’ll be nice to have our feet on solid ground.”

You left them and returned to your only ally as she sat on the bed and stared at a packet of pills. She crushed it in her grasp and huffed. She flicked away tears with her knuckles. She tossed them over her shoulder.

“He kept them,” she snarled, “it’s like he’s mocking me.”

“What?” you neared her and sat carefully beside her.

“I never… I worked with him, you know? He brought me these drinks and I didn’t realise he was dosing them. The stuff, it made me itchy… it made me so hot and I just needed anything. I hopped on him I was so desperate and-- I told him to stay away. I realised what he’d done and I told him to leave me alone and you know what he did,” she crossed her arms over her stomach.

“No, I--” you touched her elbow.

“He broke into my apartment and replaced my pills. And he didn’t leave me alone,” she spat, “he did this all and he still has the goddamn pills like they’re some sort of trophy.”

She hung her head and grunted in frustration. You leaned against her and put your arm over her shoulders. She let you and the tension drained from her body.

“Even if we get out…” she whispered, “I’ll always have this piece of him.”

She pressed her palms to her stomach and you frowned. There was nothing you could do or say. You’d been lucky so far, even if it only fed your suffering. You didn’t have another life to worry about.

“We don’t have to if--”

“I want to,” she hissed lowly, “I want him dead.”

💟

Usually, you tasted the icing and licked the spoon. Not that night. The blue shade of the frosting was anything but suspicious as you spread it over the fluffy cake. It was a perfect disguise. You topped it with blueberries to add to the theme and dusted on a few coloured sprinkles. You stood back and admired your work as the smell of garlic filled the kitchen.

“I know it’s not much,” Steve’s girl said as she stirred the sauce, “but it’s what I can manage.”

“I’m sure it’s great,” you said as you took the meatballs of the burner and tested the spaghetti, “noodles are perfect.”

You strained the pasta and helped pour the meatballs into the sauce. You mixed it up and poured it into a large glass dish and the noodles into another. You brought them out to the table and called the men to dinner before you fetched the wine, both alcoholic and not.

Steve’s girl sat as you poured a glass for each of you and the men sat. You set the bottle down and nestled in next to Bucky as he served himself. When the plates were full, the other woman nudged Steve and whispered in his ear.

He cleared his throat and stood, “um, I know it’s just us but I guess I should say thank you for all the help and we’re excited to be neighbours… can’t wait for the kids to be running around these halls together.”

“Mmm,” Bucky lifted his glass, “hopefully…” he muttered doubtfully and looked at you, “that better be what she’s having,” he nodded to your glass.

You held it out for him to sniff and he gave you a sour look. He tutted and sat back to twirl noodles around his fork as he set aside his glass. You took a sip of the gutless wine and speared a meatball on your tines. You chewed and looked at Steve’s girl. She let Steve rub her thigh under the table and forced a smile.

She was playing it well and you felt as if you would fall apart. You felt as if Bucky would see right through you the minute you walked in with the cake. What would he do then? Steve couldn’t hurt his girl, she had the baby, but you, Bucky could replace you still. Maybe that was for the best but it didn’t mean you weren’t scared shitless.

You cleared the plates and retreated to the kitchen. Just you. You’d gone over it, you didn’t want them to catch on. You didn’t get too close with them around, you acted like strangers, you really were after all.

You sliced the cake into careful portions and came out with two plates at a time. You put them in front of each chair and sat. As you did, Steve’s girl covered her mouth and gagged. She pushed herself up unsteadily.

“Honey?” Steve asked as he rubbed her lower back.

“It’s the baby I--” she gulped sickeningly, “I gotta--”

She rushed out and Steve gave a look, “nausea. It’s been like this for weeks.”

“I’m going to make sure she’s okay,” you stood, “go ahead and start without us.”

You went down the hall and as you neared the bathroom, Steve’s girl opened the door and pulled you inside. She looked genuinely sick and you smelled vomit on her breath. She turned and rinsed her mouth and shuddered. 

“I didn’t actually feel sick until I got in here,” she wiped her face with the hand cloth, “when I realised--”

“Everything’s in the trunk,” you assured her, “once they’re out, we get the keys and go.”

“How do we know--”

“Retch,” you hissed, “we wait until we’re sure.”

She gave an exaggerated hurl and you heard the clink of porcelain and silver and the drone of voices. You listened through the door as she watched you in the tight space of the half-bath.

“I’m thinking about getting her an… exam,” Bucky’s deep tone carried, “maybe she can’t…”

You let out the breath you were holding and closed your eyes. Just a little longer. 

When you heard a sudden lull, your eyes rounded and you turned the handle and let yourself out into the hall. She crept close behind as you peered through the open archway. Both men had their faces on their plates in the crumbs of vanilla cake and smears of blue icing.

“Let’s go,” you went to Steve and shoved your hand into his pocket, “shit, they’re not here.”

“Here!” she pulled her hand from his jacket hung on the rack, “you think they’re dead?”

You looked from one to the other and shakily felt along Steve’s neck. “Still a pulse. I think maybe… they’re only knocked out.”

“The serum,” she shook her head, “means we have to go quick.”

You hurried after her and followed her down into the garage. She climbed into the driver’s seat and moved it back as her stomach pressed to the wheel. You got in the other side as your body trembled with adrenaline. She hit the button attached to the keys and the door slowly raised behind her.

As she reversed, you felt a sudden shock around your neck and yiped. You’d forgotten entirely about the necklace. She stopped suddenly and watched you writhe in agony.

“Shit, shit,” you leaned forward until the shock stopped, “the necklace.”

“Fuck,” she reached for it and you batted her away.

“No, you’ll get zapped,” you gasped as you pulled on it desperately. It was too tight to get past your chin but too strong to snap. 

She took the keys out and tossed them in your lap. You lifted them and twisted the necklace around the house key but there was no give. You sobbed and dropped your hand.

“I can’t,” you looked at the bent key, “you gotta go without me.”

“What? No, I can’t--”

“You have a baby,” you said as tears burned in your eyes and your throat tightened, “go, please.” You dropped the keys on the dash and opened the door. “I can’t--”

“No, you have to come with me,” she begged.

“No, you have to go before they wake up,” you got out as you grasped your neck, the searing pain still hot on your flesh, “I’ll… I’ll survive. I have this far.”

“N--”

“Shut up!” you slammed the door and hit the hood, “go!”

She stared at you and her lip quivered. She gave you one last sad look and grabbed the keys. She sniffed as she gripped the wheel and backed out down the drive. 

You fell to your knees and sat back on your ass as you watched her drive away. You shook your head and held it in your hands as you sat behind the invisible wall of your prison.

The tires screamed at the end of the street and the noise of the engine faded into the distance. You laid on your back across the concrete and covered your face with your arm. At least you could live with knowing you got her out. Well, you couldn’t really say you’d be living. You’d be alive but little more than that. 

But you’d survive knowing that you kept one person from that pitiful fate. Even if it wasn’t you. Even if you knew that you would pay for it in the end. Even when those men woke up and found you laying in the garage, the sweet flavour of antifreeze on their tongues as the bile of their anger overflowed and drowned you. 

You couldn’t do anything but wait. If you were lucky, they might just kill you and that in itself would be freedom.

💟 💟 💟

END

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Have I Been Bad, Officer?

Nesta Archeron x Cassian - Handcuffs Oneshot

Nesta surprises Cassian for a little Anniversary fun. Turns out, real handcuffs work better than sex-shop knock-offs.

Written for Nessian Month @illyrianet

Prompt: Handcuffs

Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language, NSFW, Police/Handcuffs

4102 words

*******

Cassian watched as another car approached his police cruiser, spotted it, and abruptly slowed down to pass him. Even pulled off on the shoulder of the road, the logo of Velaris PD stood out on the side of the car.

He rolled his eyes. Normally he would have cared more, but that was the only car he’d seen in the last ten minutes and he was already in a bad mood; he decided it was best for everyone if he didn’t take his frustration out on whatever poor driver had the bad luck of getting his attention.

He shouldn’t be sitting in his patrol car waiting to pull people over for speeding. He should be at home with his beautiful, devious wife, celebrating their anniversary.

Cassian had made a point to ask for the day off. The next two days off, actually. He wasn’t going to rush any of their anniversary plans. But then an officer called in sick, and another had a family emergency, and suddenly Cassian was being dragged into work because a personal day took less preference, unfortunately.

Nesta understood. At first, she’d threatened to go down to the precinct and tell his chief exactly what she thought about the decision, but Cassian convinced her that if she did that then he’d be fired and would consequently have every day off. It sounded good until he reminded both of them that being fired means he wouldn’t be making money, and it turns out you need money to live.

And although Nesta understood, she certainly wasn’t making it easy on him. Every fifteen minutes his phone chimed with a new message from her.

At first, it was just an ‘I love you’, and ‘Happy Anniversary’, but that soon turned into her explaining all things she was going to do to him when he got home.

And all the things she wanted him to do to her.

Then the pictures started.

Each new picture showed Nesta in a different outfit. A few were of her in different lingerie sets, a couple of them, Cassian noted excitedly, were ones he hadn’t seen before.

Another picture was of her in just his shirt, kneeling on the ground, back arched with her nipples pressing through the fabric.

The latest one was of Nesta in nothing but his uniform’s hat, and bright red lipstick.

Groaning loudly, Cassian rubbed his hands over his face. He willed his cock to calm down and counted down the seconds until he could get home and follow through with some of the requests she made.

The next twenty minutes passed without any more cars driving by and without any more of Nesta’s texts. Good, he thought, she was done torturing him when he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Cassian noticed a set of headlights approaching in the distance. Still mostly hidden from view, he watched as the car sped past him. Speeding. He rolled his eyes and watched for more cars.

He didn’t have to wait long. A minute later a car sped by him going the other direction. Cassian sat up at full attention; it was the same car, but this time it was driving even faster.

He watched as the car took the next exit, turned around, and drove back towards him.

Confused, Cassian waited until it was almost to him and then he turned on his lights and sirens and pulled out into the road behind the strange car.

Almost immediately, the driver slowed and pulled off onto the road’s shoulder.

In the shine of his headlights, Cassian could easily read the license plate of the familiar-looking car he stopped. He recognized it as easily as he knew his own.

It was Nesta’s car.

And she had driven by more than once to get his attention. Chuckling to himself, Cassian slowly got out of his cruiser and strutted over to her driver’s side window.

He shined his flashlight in her face, careful not to blind her with the harsh light, and smirked broadly as he leaned his elbows against the open window. Her hair was loose in waves down her back—his favorite look on her—, she wore a long coat with a belt tied around her waist and the top two buttons open allowing him a peek of her cleavage when she leaned closer. She also had on bright red lipstick that Cassian couldn’t wait to attempt to ruin; Nesta had long since started buying smudge-proof lipstick, but Cassian always like to test the limits of her makeup.

He didn’t say anything at first, instead, waiting for her to explain what she was doing. But she just blinked up at him innocently and smiled with her blood-red lips.

She was up to something, but Cassian thought he was going to enjoy whatever she had planned, so he played along.

“Are you aware that you were speeding, miss?” Cassian asked in his best authoritative voice. He had perfected a lot of voices when it came to Nesta. The soft voice he used when she was reading and he didn’t want to disturb her; the charming, cocky voice he used when flirting with her; the rough, low voice he used whenever he wanted to make her particularly wet; but this one, his ‘cop-voice’ was one she loved to hear when he was in control.

Her smile slowly morphed into a smirk.

“I absolutely was speeding,” she paused and leaned forward, the neck of her jacket opened further and Cassian could see the swells of her breasts as she said in a low voice, “Officer.”

He suppressed a groan. She knew what that did to him. And if the satisfied look in her eyes was any indication, his own had turned dark and hungry at her tone.

If this is how she wanted to play, he would gladly oblige her.

“You were driving real fast. Very dangerous.” Cassian’s eyes remained locked with hers. “I’m not sure if I can let you go with just a warning. You seemed pretty determined to catch my attention.” Cassian’s smirk grew.

“Are you going to write me up? Give me a ticket?” Her gaze dropped to where his notepad was stuffed into his belt and slowly raked her eyes back up to his. “Have I been bad, Officer?”

Fuck. He chuckled wickedly and made a show of looking around the dark, empty road. He hadn’t seen another car pass by for a while and he doubted there would be anyone for a while.

“Nes, sweetheart.” This time, when he leaned down his gaze lingered on her open collar. “I’m not going to give you a ticket.”

Nesta’s smile turned feline, and Cassian felt like he’d walked right into her snare.

“Then I guess,” her voice dropped low and she looked up at him through her eyelashes, “you’ll have to punish me some other way, Officer.”

This time, Cassian didn’t muffle his groan of approval. He pushed himself off the car door and shot her a broad grin before schooling his features into a stern, disapproving mask.

“I’m gonna need you to step out of the car.”

Still smirking, Nesta slowly opened the door. As she brought one leg out and then the other, setting them on the pavement, Cassian noticed that her coat exposed her bare thigh and he wondered what exactly she was wearing underneath. Or not wearing if he knew Nesta—and he prided himself in knowing Nesta.

She stood up and shut the door.

Cassian took a moment to look her up and down. He took in her long tousled hair, red lips, trench coat—he realized now­—and the pair of black patent leather stilettos. He didn’t hide his desire; he knew his face must look ravenous, and he could feel where his pants were stretched tightly, showing her the shape of his hard cock.

A slow smirk spread across his face.

He motioned for her to walk around to the other side of her car. The side farther away from the road and the scarce light.

“Turn around.” He ordered.

She turned, pressing her front into the car’s frame, waiting until the last second to tear her eyes from his. He stepped closer to her until he was almost pressed against her and pulled her hair away from her ear to say, “I need to pat you down. Gotta make sure you don’t have anything dangerous on you.”

She shivered as his breath hit the arch of her ear.

His hands rested on her shoulders before slowly trailing down her arms.

“No knives,” His hands came back up and then tracked down her back, running a finger along the curve of her spine.

“No guns.” His fingers gripped her waist and in a quick motion, pulled her hips flush against his so she could feel exactly how turned on he was by her little game. He felt her ass rub up against his erection and held in a groan.

“No pepper spray.” He used one foot to kick her legs apart. One hand pressed on her upper back, making her lean further into the car. With her ass pushed out and feet spread apart, he gave her round backside a quick slap that caused her to gasp in surprise and gripped her hips to hold her in place.

“Don’t move,” Cassian commanded gruffly and he thought he heard a soft moan escape Nesta’s lips.

He pressed his body into hers, keeping her in place while he moved one hand to her hip as the other snaked its way around to grip her throat. Not too constricting, but just enough that she knew who was in charge

“What was that you said about punishing you?” Cassian’s hand on her hip moved down across her ass and then lower, taunting her with his touch. When she didn’t answer, just let out another low moan, he tightened his grip on her throat and cupped her through her panties.

Or, he would have if she’d been wearing any.

He moaned at the feeling of her warm, slick cunt against his fingers. Nesta’s words were cut off by a strangled gasp.

“Punish me.” She urged and tried to force her hips backward as he slowly moved his fingers along her slit, coating them in her wetness, before moving them up to circle her clit.

He hummed, considering. “You want me to punish you? I know you do, you’re so wet for me already,” he spoke into her ear, reveling in the sounds he was pulling from her.

“More, please,” Nesta gasped as his finger ghosted over her opening. “I’ve been bad, Officer.”

“You have.” He agreed and shoved two fingers into her soaking pussy.

She moaned loudly and splayed her hands across the top of the car trying to get a grip as he thrust into her relentlessly. His hand around her throat moved to reach into her coat and grasp one of her breasts.

Gods, she wasn’t wearing anything under her jacket.

He pulled his fingers all the way out, loving the whimper she made at the loss of sensation, only to add a third and resume his thrusts.

She moaned even louder as the hand at her breast rolled her nipple between his fingers and tweaked it harshly.

“Cass, please.” She begged. He loved it when she begged.

He grunted and pulled his fingers from her. Before she could protest, he spun her around so that her back was leaning against the car and she was staring at him with hooded eyes, breasts heaving as she breathed heavily.

He held her gaze as he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked every last drop of her arousal from them.

“Was that my punishment?” Nesta panted, frustrated that he didn’t make her finish.

Cassian stepped up to her and raised a brow.

“If you think that was your punishment, then you’ve got another thing coming, sweetheart.” He winked and leaned down as if to kiss her, but ducked his head at the last second to attach his mouth to her neck, sucking small bruises along her collar bone and throat.

Nesta reached down and untied the belt holding her jacket together. With a few quick movements, she had it open, off her body, and flung to the ground several feet away from them. Now she was leaning against the car wearing nothing but her heels.

“Then finish the job, Officer.”

With a growl, he gripped her face and kissed her fiercely. It wasn’t tender or loving—those kisses were for later. This was hungry, ravenous, filled with uncontrolled desire.

It was teeth and tongues clashing, claiming the other as best they could.

He broke away and smirked again.

“With pleasure.”

Then he dropped to his knees and hooked one of her legs over his shoulder. From his position, he noticed the underside of her stilettos was a bright red that matched her lips. He ran his hands up either side of her legs and watched Nesta shudder with anticipation before dipping his head between her thighs.

The sound of her moan and her head falling back to land on the car were almost as delicious as the taste of her on his tongue.

Cassian was relentless. He savored her taste and her moans as he devoured her. He knew exactly what she liked and she was already so close to the edge from the way his fingers had fucked her moments before.

Her moans grew louder and she fisted one hand in his hair, keeping him close. If he could, he would laugh; if she thought he would willingly abandon her soaking pussy right now she was insane. He would finish what he started, and then he’d make her beg for more

His tongue moved from where it was spearing into her to circle and suck her clit. He used two of his fingers to replace where his tongue had been inside her and curled them just right.

“Cassian!” Nesta’s head flew back and she shuddered as release barreled through her. The hands in his hair became almost unbearable tight, but he continued to eat her out slowly as she came down from her high.

When he was sure she’d ridden out the last wave, he stood up and held her gaze as he licked his lips. Her smoldering, lustful gaze heated further and she grabbed the back of his neck to pull him against her. Nesta tasted herself on Cassian’s lips and moaned.

She kissed down his jawline. She was so turned on knowing she was completely naked and he was still fully dressed.

Cassian grabbed her and reached for something on his belt, but she was too distracted to notice what it was. His hands ran down her arms and the next thing she knew, her own hands were behind her back and cold metal encircled them.

She broke the kiss to see his satisfied face. Raising an eyebrow she tested the stretch of the handcuffs he’d put on her.

“These are strong.” She commented on them, smirking, trying to pull her wrists apart.

Cassian flipped them around so he was now against the car. “They’re the real deal, baby.” Then he chuckled and unbuckled his belt.

Nesta watched hungrily as his fingers unbuttoned his pants and Cassian’s hard cock sprung free, desperate for attention.

He stroked himself a few times, loving the way her eyes were glued to his moving hand. “Now be a good girl and get on your knees.”

Nesta kicked off her heels and lowered herself to the ground, all the while looking at Cassian from beneath her eyelashes.

“Now what, Officer?” She goaded him innocently.

“Now show me what that smart mouth of yours can do.” He ran a hand through her hair before fisting it and bringing her face closer to his rock-hard cock. “And maybe it’ll make up for the way you behaved.”

She gave him one last smirk before leaning forwards and taking the tip of him into her mouth. He moaned at the feeling of her hot, wet mouth wrapped around him.

She sucked lightly, swirling her tongue over the slit. Cassian hissed a sharp breath and tightened his grip in her hair. She looked up at him as she started bobbing her head up and down.

“That’s it,” He groaned again as she hollowed her cheeks and sucked deeply. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

Then she pushed forward until her nose hit his pelvis and Cassian let out a loud groan.

She pulled away once to take a breath and then he was pushing her back down, using his grip in her hair to move her head up and down. She gagged as the tip of him hit the back of her throat but Cassian kept her head moving.

“Fuck.” He choked out, “ You’re perfect. Your tight little throat takes me so well. Can’t wait to fuck your dripping pussy.” He met her watering eyes and felt the moan she released at his words vibrate around his cock. “Look at you, on your knees, hands cuffed behind your back, ugh, Nes—”

The vibrations of her moans combined and the feeling of his tip brushing the back of her throat sent him over the edge. He went rigged and loosened his grip on her hair as he released down her throat. She took all of him, swallowing every last drop. Nesta leaned back on her heels and slowly released him with an audible pop.

He helped her get to her feet so she wouldn’t lose her balance since her hands were still locked behind her back, and swiped his thumb over her red, swollen lip.

He dragged her towards him for a bruising kiss.

“Gods, I love you.” He groaned against her mouth.

She pulled away to smile, “I love you too. Now take off your shirt.”

Cassian threw his head back and laughed but obeyed.

Once his own clothes were on the ground with hers, he opened the door to the back seat of her car and nudged her towards it.

She raised a brow at him and gestured with her still-bound hands. “Are these staying on?”

He stepped into her space and kissed her neck, sucking on the spot between her shoulder and neck that had her whimpering. “Do you want them to stay on?”

Nesta had a hard time responding once he moved to the seat behind her ear. “Yes,” She gasped, her head falling back. “Yes.”

She felt him smirk against her skin.

“Then they stay on,” Cassian commanded roughly.

She sent him another sultry smile. “Whatever you say, Officer.”

Cassian pulled Nesta as close he could get her with her hands cuffed behind her back; her back against his hard chest. One of his large hands wrapped around her throat and the other started rubbing soft circles over her clit. Nesta’s head fell back against his shoulder.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” His voice was rough. “You’ve been driving me crazy with your texts and those fucking pictures. When we get home I want you to show me all those new sets of lingerie.” He nipped at her ear, his fingers moving a little faster. “But maybe you should start with your least favorite because I think I’ll just rip it off you.”

She groaned as he eased one finger inside her. “Oh yeah, you’re ready.”

He removed his finger and bent her over. Her face was pushed into the leather cushion with her knees spread resting on the seat, ass in the air.

Cassian ran a possessive hand over her spine and slapped her ass forcing her to moan into the seat. He stepped up behind her so she could feel his hard length press between her ass cheeks.

“Happy anniversary, Sweetheart.”

And then he pushed into her dripping cunt with one quick thrust. They both moaned loudly as they got used to the feeling. When Nesta moved her hips back trying to gain some friction, he gripped her hips and kept her still.

“Oh, gods, Cassian,” Her moans were muffled by the leather seat.

Chuckling, he started to move. Each thrust brought pleasure surging through him. By the sounds Nesta was making, he knew she was feeling the same.

“Faster.” She demanded. “Harder.”

He grunted and grabbed her hips with both hands, trying his best not to shove her face into the seat but still doing what she asked.

He planted his feet better and then fucked into her with everything he had.

There was a cacophony of sounds; Cassian’s grunts, Nesta’s incomprehensible moans, the wet, vulgar sound of skin on skin, and the rhythmic creaking of the car shaking.

He shifted Nesta’s hip and hit a spot that sent her squealing,

“Yes! Cass, right there!” She screamed and he made sure to hit that spot with every thrust.

Soon enough, he felt her walls clenching around him and he gritted his teeth as she screamed his name as she orgasmed.

Cassian made sure to keep up his pace throughout the entire thing.

When he felt her stop pulsing with the aftershocks, he used an arm to wrap around her middle, pulling her up against him as best he could with her hands still bound. Still inside her, he moved a hand up to fondle her breasts and tweak her nipples, switching between her breasts at random.

His hips sped up, every thrust coaxing a new moan out of Nesta. He wanted to memorize all the sounds she made.

“Please, Cassian.” She gasped, already feeling another orgasm start to build in the pit of her stomach.

Cassian turned her head towards him and planted a surprisingly tender kiss to lips. He felt her smiling and he couldn’t help but smile against her lips, too.

Then the hand at her breasts moved to grip her throat, squeezing tightly until she choked and he lessened his grip a fraction. His other hand, the one wrapped around her waist moved down to rub furiously at her clit. Cassian kept his thrusts hard and fast. Just how she liked it.

Nesta let out a high-pitched squeal at all the sensations. Her mind was fuzzy from the pleasure—every single nerve ending was on fire from Cassian’s touches.

“Come for me, Sweetheart.” He murmured in her ear. That was all she needed, and she exploded. She screamed loudly, head thrown back onto his shoulder giving him perfect access to kiss and suck her neck, and her whole body shook from the reverberations of her release.

The feeling of her pussy clenching like a vice around his cock sent Cassian plowing into his own orgasm and he spilled inside her. She continued to shake as the aftershocks coursed through her body.

Cassian held her against him until they both recovered, hands running soothingly over her body. Then he slowly pulled out of her and she loosed a soft whine.

He chuckled but dug around his discarded pant’s pocket for the key to his handcuffs. He quickly unlocked them and winced at the bright red marks on Nesta’s wrists. She sighed in relief as the metal was removed and gently rubbed her sore wrists.

Instantly, all remaining lust faded away and Cassian was filled with guilt as he gently took Nesta’s wrists in his hands and kissed the tender flesh.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

Nesta cut him off, “Cassian, it’s okay.” She lifted his chin to meet her hazy, post-orgasm eyes, “I liked it, don’t worry.”

He just stared at her wrists, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the back seat of the car with her. She gently pushed him against the back and laid down next to him, grabbing the spare blanket tucked under the driver’s seat and tossed it over them.

Nesta ran reassuring hands over Cassian’s guilt-ridden face, as he wrapped his arms around her and tugged her close to him. “Really, Cass. If you ever want to bring those home with you, feel free.”

At his raised brows she added, “The ones we already have don’t feel as authentic.”

He searched her face for any discomfort and finding none, laughed. He pulled her even closer and she sighed contentedly at his warmth as his arms tightened around her body.

“I’ll see what other toys I can bring home, too.”

She kissed his chest and he rested his chin on top of her head.

“Happy Anniversary, Babe,” Nesta whispered, smiling into his skin.

Cassian chuckled into her hair and pulled her tighter against him. “Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart.”

*****

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @allthebooksunderthemoon @astra-ad-mare @becarefuloflove @bisexual-genderfluid-loki @booklover41802 @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @danibutterr @doubt-less @emily-gsh @enormousbooklover @foughtconquered @fromthelibraryofemilyj @hakunamatatazz @i-have-but-one-brain-cell @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jorjy-jo @lemonade-coolattas @mariamuses @mayhemories @midsizewitch @miserablesmusings @morganofthewildfire @nehemikkele @rowaelinismyotp @rowansfirebringer @sayosdreams @sheharahu @sleeping-and-books @stardelia @story-scribbler @superspiritfestival @surielandiareendgame @swankii-art-teacher @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @ladygabrielli1997

[fruitcoops]

Could we please have a prequel to the praise kink fic? Because i really want to know why were Sirius and Remus not together and what did Remus send him. I really need context

I was hoping somebody would ask for this!! The aforementioned fic is here for any curious souls (18+ please) and SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for spicy texts (not exactly nudes), and smutty feelings with nothing explicit

The bus went over a bump and Sirius winced as his shins knocked against the back of the seat in front of him, connecting with the metal brace inside. “Fuck.”

“You sure you don’t want to switch?” James asked next to him. Sirius glanced down at the veritable wall of gear and empty snack bags between them, then back to James in disbelief. He shrugged, then set his headphones back over his ears. “Worth a shot.”

“Merde,” Sirius hissed as a pothole nearly took off his kneecap. He gritted his teeth and readjusted, drawing his legs closer to his chest. I want to be home, he thought, allowing himself an internal moment to whine.

He checked his phone—not even ten in the morning. It was a Saturday, so Remus would probably just be rolling out of bed, still sleepy and soft with his hair sticking up like a disgruntled cat’s. Sirius sighed heavily and stared out the window at the small town rolling past in the distance; there was little he wouldn’t give to be back with him instead of on the way to a full week of conferences.

“Why did we have to win the Cup?” he grumbled.

James lifted one side of his headphones. “What?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t like they had had much time to themselves before that, either—Sirius’ schedule was packed with interviews that felt more like interrogations, and Remus had been running the PT department mostly by himself while Moody took a well-deserved vacation. They were dead on their feet every night, worked to the bone with little energy left to do more than cuddle and fall asleep. Still, Sirius was grateful for every second of it.

He waited ten more minutes before giving in.

New Message To: Re

Bonjour mon loup <3

There was no immediate response, which made sense, though he was a little bit disappointed. Sirius closed his eyes and tried to make himself relax; it would be at least another six hours before they arrived at their destination, and the bad weather gathering overhead didn’t bode well for quick travel.

His phone buzzed gently and he scrambled to answer. Don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg—

New Message From: Re

Morning love!

Thanks for the bagels <3

“Fuck yes,” Sirius said under his breath. The bagels had been a last-minute decision as he crept through the house in the early hours of the morning after carefully detaching himself from Remus with a final half-asleep farewell kiss. There was no guarantee he would remember breakfast with everything going on, so Sirius figured it was a safe bet to toast them and leave them on the countertop before heading out.

Message To: Re

Pas de problem

Sleep well?

Message From: Re

Decent

Missed you :(

Sirius rested his temple against the cold window with a soft sound. He hated leaving at different times, but that was just how their life worked at the moment.

Message To: Re

Missed you too <3

Three small dots appeared for a long moment before vanishing without a trace just as his heart rate began picking up. Where’d you go? he almost wondered aloud. Something bumped his arm and James raised a quizzical brow. “Loops,” Sirius said by way of explanation.

“I figured. He okay?”

“I think so? He just…disappeared on me.” Sirius was well-aware of how plaintive he sounded—James’ teasing smile was completely unnecessary.

“Aw, Cap,” he laughed, reaching over to mess with his beanie until Sirius slapped his hand away. “It’s alright, buddy, it’s just a couple days.”

Sirius jammed his hat back on his head and flicked James on the unprotected bit of his ear, making him yelp. “Fuck off, I know you’ll be a mess as soon as Lily FaceTimes with my godson.”

“He has a name, you know.”

“Sorry. You’ll be a mess as soon as she FaceTimes with Pocket Pots, who happens to be my godson.”

James rolled his eyes. “I regret giving you that title.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

As if on cue, his phone lit up again; Sirius ignored James’ snickering as he quickly unlocked it.

New Message From: Re

When will you be at the hotel?

“That’s it?” he muttered.

Message To: Re

That was a lot of typing for one sentence

6-7 hrs, if the weather holds

Why?

Message From: Re

Sorry lmao Reg came in for a bit

Just curious :) Keep me updated?

Message To: Re

Will do <3

Tell Reg he needs to wash his sheets. It’s been over a month.

A small thumbs-up emoji was his only answer, and he tried not to be too bummed. Remus liked having things to do; sitting there and texting Sirius while he slowly got further and further away was probably not his preferred way to spend a morning. With a sigh that was likely a bit too dramatic for the situation he was in, Sirius faced the window once more and buckled in for a long ride.

He chatted off and on with the others when they stopped for lunch, but everyone was exhausted from the combination of a packed week and an early morning. Even Talker stayed fairly quiet, and James kept his headphones on for most of the trip.

Sirius finally succumbed to his tiredness and put some music on, then dozed for an hour or three while they traveled through yet another field. A few halfhearted calls of “cows” made their way around the bus, though nobody seemed particularly enthused about being packed in with double the gear due to a broken storage compartment. Donuts and gas station coffee could only do so much.

“Just crossed the state border,” Arthur called from the front of the bus as Sirius tried to ignore the cramping in his thighs. Three hours. Just three more.

His music was interrupted by a soft jingle alert and he pulled his phone out, hoping against hope that Regulus hadn’t caused a fire anywhere. It was unlikely given the…well, everything about him, but with Sirius’ luck it could happen.

New Message From: Re

How far?

Message To: Re

About 3 hrs. Ran into some detours

Good day?

Remus remained silent on the other end and Sirius frowned. That was rather rude, and highly unusual. Between the two of them, Remus was the one who kept conversations going past the initial question to be answered.

Message From: Re

Attachment: 1 Image

Love you! Call me when you get there : )

Sirius opened the attachment and almost threw his phone in utter shock. Skin. Bare skin everywhere, its smooth edges broken up only by tight black fabric that may as well have been painted onto the curve of Remus’ ass. “Oh my god,” he whimpered, voice barely audible even to his own ears. It had been taken in their bedroom mirror; Remus looked over his shoulder, and Sirius caught the corner of a devious smirk on his lips. “Oh, you fucker.”

Message From: Re

Thoughts? They’re cozy

Message To: Re

Did you miss the part where I said three (3) hours

Message From: Re

Nope

Second one is a guessing game and u get a prize if u get it right : )

The second photograph was more zoomed-in than the first and Sirius wracked his brain, running through his mental catalogue of Remus’ body to figure out the answer. It did absolutely nothing to calm the situation in his pants.

He had no idea what the promised prize was, but anticipation made his hands shake slightly as he carefully scanned the picture. The shadows caught it at an odd angle—it wasn’t the steady slopes of his face or neck, nor was it the strong curve of a shoulder. Not enough freckles, either, he thought.

A lightbulb lit in the back of his mind.

Message To: Re

Right hip

Another thought connected half a second later.

Holy fuck you took them off

Is that my prize?

Re?

Remus Lupin I swear to god

TEXT ME BACK

Message From: Re

Bingo!

Christ you’re impatient, I was gone for like 2 mins

He chanced a look toward Pots, whose head lolled to the side as he snored.

Message To: Re

Hey quick question why are you like this

It’s a good thing Pots is out cold bc this bus is too small to hide anything

Message From: Re

Haha sux to be you

Sirius’ cheeks heated with a whole cocktail of different emotions as he furiously typed a response.

Message To: Re

‘Sux to be you’???

Are you 13 yrs old????

Message From: Re

Do you want your prize or not u horndog

Message To: Re

YOU MADE ME THIS WAY

He took a deep breath through his nose and flexed his fingers.

Yes please

A simple smiley face—Sirius would never see those things the same—popped up, followed by an audio file. He triple-checked that his headphones were plugged in before tapping ‘play’ with an unsteady thumb.

His face went very, very hot before all the blood went straight to his groin and he closed his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand. Breathy sounds came through the heavy earphones, a little more crackly than they would be in-person; he heard Remus’ gasp catch in his throat and crossed his legs as best he could in the too-small seat, torn between thanking and cursing any higher power. He could practically see Remus’ face in his mind’s eye as the noises continued, intermixed with fragments of desperate words.

The file came to an end after what felt like the blink of an eye and a hundred years, and Sirius did not look away from the violently red seat cushion in front of him for a long moment as his brain came back online. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so turned on.

He took a few deep breaths, though it did nothing to erase the poorly-muffled whines that still rang between his ears like church bells. Sirius huffed and turned to grab his waterbottle out of his duffel, only to make direct eye contact with Finn across the aisle.

Sirius froze.

Finn grinned.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed, too low to wake James but just loud enough to carry over the four feet separating them. Finn’s smile widened. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

“How’s Loops?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“That good, huh?”

“O’Hara, I swear to god—”

“Oh, is Cap spilling secrets?” Kasey asked, poking his head over the back of the seat.

Finn opened his mouth, but the force of Sirius’ glare must have been enough to at least intimidate him a little, because he shook his head. The smug Cheshire grin remained. “Nah, just having a chat about our plans when we get home.”

Kasey groaned. “You’re a lucky man, O’Hara. Both your people get to come with you. Nat sent me a promise, like, twenty minutes ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. I won’t be available tonight from six to eight if anyone was wondering.”

“Did she really?” Finn looked back to Sirius, who bit the inside of his cheek and tried to keep his cool. Two and a half hours, and then he would be safe. Just two and a half more hours.

[y0itsbri]

Hi Bri 🥰

C-16 if you'd like to 👀

Coffee dates and disasters

au with college!lip and barista!mandy where ian is a frequent visitor at the campus café and meets mickey under rather unfortunate circumstances. don't cry over spilled milk, buddy.

which also fits under a.u.gust for @gallavichthings

words: 2.4k

"never would have thought you the type to come to one of these places," ian mused, looking around the small café with only lamps and string lights illuminating the space. "can't believe college changed you, man," ian clutched at his heart dramatically.

"don't worry. 'm still the annoying bastard you love so dearly," lip squeezed ian's shoulder before he sauntered up to the counter.

the barista's bored expressed brightened when she saw them. her perky demeanor was matched by a high pitched voice, "hey lip," she smiled, dark lipstick striking. she appraised ian with a somewhat predatory eye, "hello, lip's friend."

"uh, brother," ian coughed.

lip rolled his eyes, "and he's gay so don't even try it, mandy."

she pouted and flicked her hair behind her shoulder, "not that it's any of your business, anyways."

ian chuckled besides him, drawing another smile out of mandy, this one kinder, sweeter.

"what can i get you boys?"

the pink highlights glistened in her dark hair as she whipped up lip's cold brew and ian's caramel macchiato, then proceeded to insist that this one is on the house. neither of them argued, but thanked her before they settled down in some stools by the window.

"fucking the barista privileges?" ian asked, raising his eyebrow at his slut of a brother.

"i think of it more like fellow south sider charity," he rubbed his bottom lip, "but yours works too," lip smirked around the edges of his coffee cup.

"you're an idiot."

"can a man who got us free drinks really be deemed an idiot?" lip philosophized.

ian paused, taking a moment of thorough consideration. he looked lip straight in the eyes as he answered, "if that man is you, then without a doubt."

lip tried to knock ian's cup out of his hand, but failed at his attempt. ian thanked his well-practiced jrotc skills and a lifetime experience of growing up in a house packed with annoying siblings for his victory.

they chatted about the robotics classes lip was taking, how he got full-time access to one of the labs, and his weird ass roommate who may or may not be gay if ian is at all interested. ian scrunched up his face. after hearing so many horror stories about the guy, ian didn't want anywhere near him. he wasn't that desperate yet.

the second that lip was out of his seat and heading to the bathroom, the beautiful mess that was mandy descended.

"hiiii lip's gay brother," she leaned against the table.

"it's ian," he spun his empty cup in his hands. he couldn't help himself from smiling at her charisma.

"well hi, ian, i just wanted to say sorry if i spooked you earlier. i just had no idea lip's brother would be so cute!"

"his ugly mug's not too hard to beat." ian laughed. "he got the short end of the gallagher stick, literally."

"cute and charming. you're funny, ian gallagher, i like you." she placed her hand on his shoulder for a moment, a movement so soft compared to her rather frantic appearance. "come back here anytime and it's on the house, yeah? i work most evenings after three."

"oh. uh- okay," ian scrambled for words, "thanks."

she squeezed his shoulder once before lip returned with a rather obnoxious entrance.

"ayo mands, stop harassing him!"

ian ducked his head in embarrassment.

"oh, shut up! i'm just clearing your cups," she winked at ian as she left.

mandy was something else. but she was kind and good company. ian could get used to the chill atmosphere over the chaos of the gallagher house anytime. he might just take up her offer.

--

"you'd think with all the time you spend here, you'd be offered a scholarship or something by now." mandy sipped on her chocolate frappuccino as she laid her feet across ian's lap. he always made sure to come visit during her breaks at least twice a week during the past couple months.

ian shrugged, "guess they only had room for one gallagher."

mandy hit his arm in a way that hurt. lip was fucked if he ever broke her heart.

"does fiona even know that this is where you sneak off to?"

"yeah." mandy's look said she didn't believe him. "well, kinda. she thinks i'm visiting lip, brotherly duties and all."

"yeah? how are those brotherly duties?"

"fuck if i know."

she laughed.

"i still think you should apply here for next fall," she encouraged, "could take some art classes."

"i suck at art."

"chemistry?"

"failed that."

"business?"

"yeah, no thanks."

mandy flipped him off, "fine. botany?

"ya know what? sure." he had always wanted to grow tomatoes.

"really?!"

"heart wants what it wants, mandy. we can't all be psychology brainiacs."

"brains and beauty, what can i say?" she teased. ian laughed, eyes glistening towards his friend. mandy made things better.

"hey," she continued, "there's this concert on the main campus lawn this weekend, you should totally come!"

"isn't that just for students?"

"they don't card, dummy."

"right, right, i knew that."

"sureeee. you in?"

ian mentally checked his work schedule.

"i'm in."

--

lip and ian strolled into the café a few days later. okay, maybe ian had felt a bit guilty for abandoning his brotherly duties lately, but at least this way he could hang out with both his best friends. well he could have if he remembered the fact that mandy had the day off for her behavioral neuroscience midterm. they had literally spent her previous shift reviewing the terms, he should have known.

ian's couldn't help his face from falling as another blonde barista took their orders, mostly eyeing lip the whole time.

"hi lip," she smiled a little too sincerely, "what can i get for you today?"

ian had ordered something new at the recommendation of the blonde and he was not a fan. and to make matters worse, he had to actually pay for the atrocity that he wouldn't even be able to finish.

"so how's your little coffee dates with mandy?" lip asked over his cup.

ian nearly choked on his god-awful americano. "how'd you know?"

"please. she's obsessed with you. every time i see her, it's 'ian this,' 'ian that,' 'ian might apply here in next year.'"

"oh."

"yeah, oh. when were you gonna tell me?!"

“it’s all mandy’s idea, i’m not even sure i want to,” ian muttered, refusing to make eye contact.

“dude, i’ve literally shared a room with you since the day you popped out of monica’s wretched womb, you think I can’t tell when you’re lying?”

okay maybe ian had been getting increasingly more excited about the idea of attending school and actually learning things that he wants to learn. something that might actually lead him somewhere real since rotc was looking more and more like a poor man's fantasy the more that he thought about it.

“I was gonna tell you, swear on it.” and he was. once he convinced himself that lip wasn't going to straight up laugh in his face. but the look in his eye seemed genuinely supportive.

“mhm, i gotta catch my english lit class," lip stood up, swinging his tattered tan backpack across one shoulder. he patted ian's shoulder in his big brother ways, "don’t be a stranger, yeah?”

“yeah, yeah for sure! have fun learning a language you already know!” lip flipped him off at his smartass remark.

soon after, ian stood up to return his drink to the counter, the anxiety from the conversation making him entirely lose whatever appetite he might have had. plus, it wasn’t the same here without lip or mandy. he just wanted to be wrapped up in a cocoon in his own bed. but that was so far away. maybe he could catch an early ride—

thump.

ian crashed into a guy’s sturdy body.

the remnants of his shitty drink spilled in an americano nightmare over both of them, ceramic pieces shattering on the floor in a truly horrific manner.

ian yipped and the other man let out a grunt of irritation.

they were fucking soaked. well, at least the coffee wasn't hot? ian tried justifying the situation, but, nah, this was bad.

"shit! i'm so sorry, lemme," ian reached out and the shorter man flinched away.

they were now far enough apart that ian got a good look at him. a leather jacket.. now covered in ian's drink -- shit. and shockingly piercing blue eyes that lingered too long on ian's before his cheeks turned a shade of pink that made ian's stomach flutter.

he might have seemed cold if he didn’t make ian feel so warm.

"it’s cool, man. i gotta go, uh," and he walked out of the café without looking back.

fuck.

ian smelled like coffee the entire train ride to the back of the yards. he laid in his bed regretting his entire life.

no mandy. no lip. no dignity.

--

the day of the concert that mandy had invited him to rolled around. ian wouldn’t admit it, but he was nervous to spend a coffee-less evening with mandy, their entire friendship built inside that one room. his little bubble of safety was bursting.

well, to be honest, the bubble had burst the moment that his disaster of a coffee was spilled onto one of the most ridiculously pretty guys that he's ever seen. every time he closed his eyes, he remembered the guy’s face shift from hostile to something else. he was torn between wanting to know the his name and also on never seeing him again in fear that he would simply pass away of embarrassment.

hopefully mandy hadn't heard about it. they may not have been friends for a long time, but he already knew that she would never let him live it down.

"hey ian!" her familiar voice called. that sounded promising.

his face fell with relief as he finally spotted her at the corner. she embraced him in a warm hug before pulling back and giving him a once over.

"huh, could have sworn you'd still have coffee behind your ear or something after the description karen gave me of your little disaster the other day." she smirked, quite literally double checking behind his ears as they turned hot under her gaze.

"ugh, fuck, how much did she tell you?" he itched his forehead and scrunched up his nose.

"oh, calm your tits, it's funny as fuck." she giggled, punching his arm in a way that still unintentionally hurt.

"whatever. are you excited for the concert tonight?"

their reunion conversation lulled eventually, and ian noticed that they weren't necessarily standing alone.

no. fucking. way.

just his luck, if he was being honest. he probably deserved this.

there he stood. the man that has plagued his dreams the past few days. in a light wash jean jacket that was a little tight on the biceps, leaning casually against the wall, kicking the pebbles on the ground with his boot.

"uh, what's he doing here?" ian gestured towards the victim of The Coffee Incident.

“what, you know him?” mandy asked, walking them towards him.

“vaguely.” if that wasn’t the understatement of the year.

"huh. i didn’t think my idiot brother had any friends."

brother? how did ian not realize she had a brother?

"what, did you think i was going to babysit you all night? i can't let everyone here thinking you're my boyfriend, no offense or whatever, but you're in good hands!" she kissed his cheek, clearly not helping her own not-looking-like-her-boyfriend rule.

ian eyed said brother's good hands only to see the faded letters of FUCK U-UP on them. oh.

mandy pushed ian over to her brother, "ian, mickey. mickey, ian," she introduced before pushing and shuffling her way through the crowd of college students to find herself someone’s cheap ass fruity alcohol to mooch off of.

mickey. ian's brain repeated over and over, a chime against the murmuring sea of voices they found themselves enveloped by.

"nice jacket," ian pointed out, an awkward attempt to converse before shoving his hands back in his pockets.

"it's my second favorite." the corners of his mouth lifted like there was more to the statement. ian took the bait, as if he could resist.

"what's your first?"

"first is still airing out the fuckin’ coffee smell," he smirked as ian groaned. "oh c’mon, man, don't go crying over spilled milk."

how could he not? on the bright side, he didn’t seemed to hate ian for it.

“if it was anyone else,” mickey drawled, “they’d have to get a beat down for it.”

“why do I get a free pass?” ian mused.

“well, you’re mandy’s friend, right?”

“yup,” ian tried to suppress his disappointment. he really did. but fiona always told him he wore his heart on his sleeve.

“yeah, that ain’t why, though,” his eyebrows waggled suggestively and ian nearly felt his heart drop out of his ass.

ian blessed whatever coffee god was out there for sending him both mandy and the beautiful man in front of him.

“you wanna go listen to the band?” ian nodded his head towards the stage with passionate players jumping around like they were playing lollapalooza or some shit.

“lead the way, stud, just try to keep your drinks off of me this time,” mickey knocked into ian’s own flannel covered shoulder.

yeah, ian couldn’t believe his luck. maybe karma was finally on his side.

—

mandy smirked at her brother and best friend not-so-subtly checking each other out over the course of the night, bopping their heads to the music and downing whatever free booze they could get their hands on.

she hoped that adding mickey to the equation would be enough incentive to convince ian to stick around. things were better when he was near.

the way that ian followed mickey around like a lost puppy with that dopey moon-eyed look, it seemed like her hopes would come true.

and when both ian and mickey strolled into the café to come visit her at work the next week, mickey in his worse-for-wear leather jacket and ian in borrowed denim, she thanks the coffee gods for her luck.

[shadowworks]

Resolutions

Pairing: Hawks X Reader

Warnings: Fluffy, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol (consumed at a party!) mentions of height difference, Feels. There’s feels.

Word Count: 1.4k

Song suggestion: New Years Day by Taylor Swift

A/N: A group of us decided to do Secret Santa, and my pick was sweet, @redflannel! I really hope you like it, and you’ll be excited for the new year! 🥺

Thank you @some-kindofgnome for helping brainstorm ideas and reading over everything! Honestly, you’ve been through it all. 🤍 Also, thank you @hisoknen, @present-mel & @pleasantanathema for reading it over towards the end. 🤍

Red, this one’s for you!

New Years Eve.

There’s glitter on the floor when you walk through the party. You hear the muted cheers of laughter from the rooftop, all colleagues from Hawks’ agency watching fireworks bloom across a dark sky. A couple girls walk by, holding pretty shoes by their straps and both lost in their conversation. Your interests are elsewhere. On someone, actually.

The hall trails to a corner office on the right, the door's closed but that doesn’t make you turn around. A soft knock, and a turn of the knob follows right before you step inside. The room is mostly dark, save for a dim desk lamp turned on near the city windows.

“Hawks?” You call out in the dark. Tousled locks of gold tip in your direction, and you’re met with honey eyes staring wide from the high rise window. It’s a surprise, though it looks like you’re welcomed.

“Hey,” he offers gently. His low voice isn't as strong as usual. It’s quiet and solemn...not like him at all.

“Hey,” you greet back, closing the door behind you, “What are you doing in here, babe?”

Hawks made his appearance earlier in the night. He poured himself a glass of champagne, and he wandered between conversations through the crowds like a smooth talker. And yet, when it came to the clock reaching nearly midnight, you noticed his vibrant presence wasn’t among the hazy and drunk crowds.

In truth he likes to go off on his own. You've come to find this out through your months working together, but still. This is different.

“Ah well, gotta catch up on paperwork, you know how it is.” He manages, glimpsing back to the glass. You did. But you know he submitted his paperwork days prior...To prove this, the desk’s clean without a single shred of paper on top, and his computer screen is blank, idle, a dull light painting the keyboard.

You take your time approaching the desk, capturing him in the soft light. He’s in a three piece suit, holes cut in the back for his plush crimson wings. Lovely posture, and he holds a half empty glass of champagne in hand, the other tucked in the pocket of his trousers, and so...effortlessly beautiful. It’s hard not to stare.

“Did I submit the reports wrong the first time?” You ask.

“What?—No! That’s not—” you catch him off guard. It’s not something that happens often, but maybe because it’s you he’s affected more as he stares back startled. But his words bubble in his throat, and he turns shamefully to shield his face, with shoulders hitched slightly.

You tilt your head, attempting a peek at his flustered features and you quietly circle around the lengthy wooden desk. “You sure this isn’t for something else?”

That’s not enough. He still doesn’t answer, instead he holds his stare to the flutter of fallen snow pouring down onto the city.

“Hey, look at me,” you tell him. This time you draw close to his form, extending an arm and taking his champagne glass. He lets it slip from his fingers as you set it down for him on the desk. You glance up, hands finding his cheeks lightly dusted in a blush. You cup them softly, guiding his head to face yours, “What’s going on with you?”

His handsomely marked eyes fall lidded. They search your own, intensely looking for something...The heat between your fingers is soothing, and you feel his calloused hands reach upward to lay across your fingers, stroking your knuckles in a gentle manner with his thumb.

“Shoulda taken it easy on the champagne.”

“We both know that was your first glass.”

You feel Hawks slide your hands from his cheeks, his stubble grazing your skin, only to cradle you around the waist and pull you into his chest at once. You instinctively find your arms wrapping around him. He buries his head into your shoulder, breathing deep, holding you tightly in his arms.

Something you’ve noticed about Hawks is he doesn’t always give you the answer right away. Sometimes it takes patience, and the way he is right now? This is something that’ll have to wait until the morning, when the new year has finally begun. And that’s okay.

“Hawks,” you say, craning your head toward his thickly swept hairs. When he doesn’t move from the embrace, you pause for a moment, just before your voice falls to a whisper.

“Keigo.”

His head slowly lifts, looking back at you longing, with all the love in the gleam of his eyes. He gave you his name some time ago, but the conditions are to keep it a secret. You couldn’t say it in the workplace, or around mixed company. But this is an exception.

The world is looking toward the sparks in the sky, while you’re looking at the sparks in his eyes. The sound of muted shouts come from above again; the countdown ringing from drunken voices.

Ten

Nine

Eight

“How about I take you home?” You gently soothe. You watch his features soften.

Seven

Six

Five

“Only if you stay with me,” Keigo breathes back, amber cologne brushing your nose as he flutters his lips against yours.

Four

Three

Two

“I always will.”

One

Your lips press together and fireworks burst from beyond the glass window, shading you two in a blend of blues, greens, and reds. Your eyes are closed, lost in a tender touch.

Happy New Year!

When you both pull apart, it’s slow and you two are lingering. Peeling your eyes open, you glance at each other through the long, boisterous cheers of celebration.

It’s Hawks who moves first, collecting your hand in his as he leads you out the door of his office. He knows how to leave a party in private, he’s good with fast departures, after all. Only a couple people catch the two of you collecting your winter coats, and he flashes a coy smile with a charming flare.

A little too quickly you feel the crisp air bite your skin as you depart into the harsh cold. You’re grateful Keigo draws you toward him, letting the soft plush of his wings veil you from the oncoming wind. The city is alive with continuous noise poppers, and cheering sounds in the distance. But it’s Keigo’s voice which catches your attention.

“You know,” he starts, his tone smoother than before. But there’s a hint of nerves you can detect, just a little as he goes on, “I’ve been thinking a lot about next year.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Guess we could call it a New Years Resolution or something, heh, been leading up to it, but…”

“Babe.”

Finally turning towards you face to face, he leans into you, holding you in another tight embrace and dipping his lips down by your nipped ear, “I’m not just asking you to stay the night...I want you to stay with me in the long run. Stay and live with me.”

Your nerves ignite in a tingling shock. It’s not as though the thought hasn’t crossed your mind before. You’ve been together long enough. A few mentions here and there. Still. Still...Your sight begins to blur. You can’t stop the hot streaks of tears wetting your cheeks, and a smile pulls to the corners of your mouth.

“Hawks are you,” you can’t form the words, not at first, straining for a moment to keep your voice steady, “Are you serious?”

“I’m as serious as can be,” his coughing laugh breaks in between, “I know that’s hard to believe, but I can have my moments….So, what do you say?”

You nod your head, hiding your face in the warmth of his pro-hero coat, trimmed in fluffs of white.

Another soft laugh vibrates from his chest, gloved hands gently running up and down your shoulder. “Can’t hear you under there, little dove, you’ll have to speak louder.”

With another nod you manage to lift your head, smiling wider, “I’d like that.”

“We’ll work out the details later. Right now…” Keigo smiles back. Lovingly, softly, “Let’s go home.”

It ended up being the fastest resolution made.

***

I was listening to New Years Day on repeat, and yes it did inspire a few ideas for the fic. Thanks for reading! Happy New Years 💙🎊

[bi-writes]

never been better — haz x tom x reader

type: one-shot detail: harrison osterfield x tom holland x fem!reader word count: 4.2k warnings: some plot, mostly nsfw content, threesome, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, cum play, overstimulation, language, dom!haz, dom?tom, sub!reader complete masterlist

author’s note: this is pretty much filth, it was meant to be a blurb and then it became this so enjoy

He looked delicious. They both looked delicious. They were sitting side-by-side on the floor, beers in their hands, their voices filled with huskiness and brightness as they laughed. It had been a long night of dancing and drinking, and the boys had offered to bring you home rather than let you stumble on the sidewalk.

They didn’t want to go. You had pouted when you had hugged them goodbye, and Tom knew that pretty face better than anyone. You had such a sparkle in your eye, and it was true; you didn’t want to be alone. So you cracked open their favorite beers and put them on the coffee table. One beer had turned into two, two into three, and three had turned into you all huddling around an empty one, watching as it rolled between you. You sat opposite of them, your knees tucked underneath you, and you watched as Tom spun an empty bottle between his nimble fingers. You smiled a bit.

“Remember when we used to play that?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. Tom had shed his leather jacket, now in his untucked button down and jeans. He smiled at you.

“Aye,” he nodded. “You were my first kiss that night.”

“We were so little!” You giggled, and Harrison rolled his eyes a bit, taking a long swig of his beer. You put your own drink down and crawled close to them on your hands and knees. “Don’t be jealous, Harri. Look, we can play, if you want...if you’re so mad about it,” you laughed.

“There’s only three of us,” Harrison pointed out, raising a brow. He was still wearing his jean jacket, and you loved how he looked in denim. He had put his glasses on after you came in, and you thought he looked so soft and sweet with them on.

“So,” you shrugged, biting your lip. “I still wanna play.”

Tom and Harrison looked at each other for a moment. They met eyes, almost as if it was a competition, and Harrison’s lip twitched for a moment before he grabbed the bottle.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Let’s play.”

Play.

You grinned, and you took the bottle into your hands, putting it down onto the floor between you before spinning it, watching as it rolled on its side, the neck of the bottle switching between the three of you quickly.

Harrison, Tom, Harrison, Tom...

You looked up at the both of them as the glass swished against the wooden floor, and they were both staring hungrily at it. You could see it in their dark eyes that they both were begging for that bottle to land on them. Their lips were wet and plump, and they probably tasted like beer, and you wanted to explore that flavor so badly.

You giggled when the bottle stopped moving. The neck of the bottle had stopped, but it hadn’t landed on either of them. It had landed smack in the middle of them. You looked up at them, and they both sat up at the same time.

“It landed my way.”

“You’re so full of shit, look at the way it’s pointing, you fucking div! It landed my way.”

“You’re the fucking blind one!”

“It landed my way.”

You pushed the bottle to the side, sitting back on your heels. You pouted a bit. Maybe you were just feeling confident. Maybe you were just absolutely horny. Maybe it was the alcohol flowing in your veins, trickling all over you, maybe it was just the way they both looked absolutely incredible in the dark light. You couldn’t stop the words as they tumbled out of your mouth.

“Hmmm...if you can’t choose, then I guess...” You sighed, biting your lip, “I-I guess I’ll just have to kiss both of you.”

Harrison stopped for a second, not able to speak. He took a long swig of beer before coughing, a fist on his chest to help him breathe better again.

Did he hear that right?

“Come again?” Tom raised a brow, and you leaned over onto your hands on knees, smiling.

“I said,” you cooed, “that I’ll just have to kiss both of you.”

You pushed the bottle out of the way as you crawled towards them, your eyes darkening as you got closer. You were stalking towards them on your hands and knees, the dress you were wearing riding up on your thighs and your cleavage on display for them to admire. The curves of you had been out for them to touch, grab, squeeze all night, but neither of them had thought about how absolutely irresistible you truly were. You became alive suddenly, a lit flame under their eyes, and they did not want to stop it from glowing.

“At the same time,” you added, finally getting close enough to grab onto Harrison’s collar and yank him towards you. You sat up on your knees again, taking the front of Tom’s shirt and pulling him in with your other hand. Tom didn’t put up much of a fight, but Harrison was more stiff to the touch. “It’s okay,” you said finally, putting a hand on Harrison’s cheek. “Just kiss me. Like you’ve always wanted to.”

That was enough to pull him right in. It was soft at first. Tom’s lips hit the corner of your mouth as Harrison nudged himself right there in front, kissing you softly, firmly. You giggled in response, allowing yourself turn your head and plant a soft kiss on Tom, Harrison’s kisses moving to your cheek. You were right. They both tasted like beer.

You pulled away slowly, but neither of them leaned back or away from you. Tom had put his beer down, and one hand touched your hip as the other tried to find your hand, touching your fingers soothingly. Harrison had his free hand on your back, where he was toying with the zipper of your dress, his palm lowering to caress your ass over your dress.

“Like we’ve always wanted to?” Tom echoed, and you swallowed hard.

“Y-Yeah,” you looked between them. “Like...like we’ve always...w-wanted to.”

It happened so quickly. Tom knocked over the bottles scattered around you, tackling you onto the floor practically as he brought you in for a sloppy, drunk kiss. You didn’t shy away from his tongue, which had been poking at your bottom lip, and he was tasting your mouth for the first time, savoring the minty and sugary flavor from the countless mojitos you had at the bar. He fisted your hair tightly, forcing you both upright as you settled into his lap. Your thighs fit around his waist as you kissed messily, your fingers going into his sweaty curls as his breaths got heavier and heavier.

Harrison watched, tipping his beer back and downing what remained in his bottle. Then, he reached over for your beer and finished it. He shook the nerves out of him before reached over timidly and touching the bare skin of your back, and he grunted as Tom grabbed his wrist and yanked him towards you, so forcefully that Harrison’s chest hit your back flush from behind so that you were sandwiched between them.

You pulled away from Tom and leaned your head back as he trailed feathery kisses down your jaw. You reached up and wrapped a hand around the back of Harrison’s neck, pulling him down towards you to mold your lips against his. Your own mouth was feeling a bit swollen and tender, but you had no desire to stop kissing either of them. Harrison cupped one side of your face as you kissed, shedding his jacket before gripping the back of your dress and unzipping it as Tom worked on nipping and biting at the tops of your breasts. You slowly took Harrison’s glasses off, tossing them onto the couch, revealing those sweet blue eyes all for you.

“My boys,” you cooed against Harrison’s lips, and he lowered his hand from your cheek to your neck, holding you there possessively. He pulled away from the kiss slowly, looking down at you with those piercing baby blues. He was hard in thought, rubbing a thumb across your jaw, and you licked your lips. “What is it, Harri? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just...” He licked over his bottom lip, and you whined a bit as you felt the cool sensation of his rings as he slid his hand further down your throat. His hand made its way to the breast that Tom wasn’t kissing, and he squeezed it roughly. He smirked a bit. “I was only wondering whose cock you could take first.”

The doubt left his eyes, and all you saw was the arrogant, sexy demeanor he normally wore with his girls. But now you were the girl, and his eyes were on you, and you had always wondered what it would be like to be a Harrison girl. Thrilling, because his gaze set you on fire and just the touch of his hand was making you shake. His smirk went straight to your core, and just watching him lick his lips for long enough could make you finish on the spot.

You smiled suddenly, leaning up to kiss him again, but you broke the kiss as a loud moan escaped you. Tom had pulled your dress down to your waist, and he was quick about wrapping those soft lips around a taut nipple and sucking hard. Your hand went straight into his curls, breaking up the product in his hair as you tugged and pulled with delight.

“Shit, Tommy,” you managed to say, and it wasn’t long before you were rutting your hips against his, aching to find some sort of friction in the immense teasing pleasure you were receiving. Harrison gathered your hair up and brought it behind your shoulders, biting down on your neck as he wrapped his arms around you from behind. You were naked under your dress aside from a lovely pair of black panties, and the boys were quick to maneuver you out of it.

“Bloody hell,” Tom muttered, smoothing his hands down your sides. You leaned back against Harrison as Tom spread your legs a bit, and Harrison whistled a bit, chuckling darkly.

“Blood hell is right, mate,” Harrison murmured in your ear. “Who knew our girl was so fucking gorgeous?”

“So bloody gorgeous,” Tom echoed, smoothing his hands down your thighs. You squirmed a bit.

“Don’t be mean,” you pouted. “Don’t tease.”

“Shut up, y/n,” Harrison snapped, his hand going around your throat. You whimpered as he squeezed, wrapping his other arm around your middle to hold you in place. “Quit moving. You’ll let Tom have his fill, y’hear me, love?”

You let out a soft breath, nodding slowly.

“Y-Yes, Harri.”

“Good girl.”

Tom gripped the back of his shirt and lifted it over his head. You let out a soft moan watching him unbuckle his belt, and your eyes went wide and hazy as he pushed his pants down his legs, his boxers with it, and he was quick to grip his cock and pump it a few times. You hummed as he gathered the precum at the tip and used it to spread along his length. He held his hand out in front of your mouth.

“Spit,” he commanded you, and you did as he asked, spitting into the palm of his hand. A string of saliva spread between his palm and your mouth as he brought his hand back to his cock and spread the wetness along himself, hissing as he stroked himself a few times, thrusting into his own hand. “Fuck, are you ready for me, y/n?”

Your eyes lowered, looking down as you watched him. His cock was throbbing, red, pulsing, and you ached to have it between your thighs. But Harrison was behind you, too, and you turned your head to look at him. “T-Take me to bed. Please.”

Harrison smirked down at you, “she’s right, mate. We gotta take her somewhere more comfortable.” He leaned down and moved a few fingers between your folds, “and she’s not nearly wet enough. You did a shit job, Tommy.”

“Fuck off,” Tom snapped, and you giggled as Harrison picked you up off the floor. You wrapped your legs around his waist as you kissed, hanging onto him as he carried you to the bedroom. Your kiss ended abruptly as he flung you onto the bed, taking off his shirt and starting to take off his pants as Tom followed suit.

“You gonna treat her like a proper woman, aye?” Harrison scolded him as he worked on undoing his belt.

“I said fuck off,” Tom muttered, pushing you back against the sheets as he got between your legs. You gasped as his curls tickled the skin of your thighs, and your voice broke out into a long, strangled moan as he sucked your throbbing bud into his mouth, the nerves pricking your insides like gorgeous, pleasurable needles, feeding the knot in your stomach as it wound itself tighter. “That feel good, lovey?”

“Y-Yes, Tommy,” you stuttered out between moans, rolling your hips against his sweet mouth as he ran his tongue in warm, loving circles. You smiled lazily at Harrison, who was grinning cockily as he shed his pants. Tom kept working your cunt like it was his mission, his nose continuously nuzzling against your clit as his tongue moved warmly inside and out of you. When his fingers finally found their way inside you, they entered easily, following in rhythm with his tongue as he thrusted them slowly, making sure to stretch and coax out the most gorgeous moans from your lips. Once his fingertips found the feathery spot inside of you, Tom couldn’t wipe the smug look on his face as he had your legs shaking around him. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he brought his muscular arm back over and over again, hitting that spot again and again. He turned to look at Harrison, winking.

“She’s falling apart for me, mate,” Tom hummed, and Harrison clicked his tongue, finally coming over onto the bed.

“Don’t steal all the fucking fun,” Harrison growled before leaning down and wrapping his warm lips around your clit, sucking it into his mouth. “Make some fucking room for us, angel,” he snapped, pushing your legs apart, and you cried out in pleasure as they both worked to unravel the coil in your stomach.

“Tommy!” You whimpered, “H-Harri, please...please...”

“Are you close?”

“Of course she’s close, you fucking div.”

“I’m asking!”

“You’re stalling, you fuck, she’s almost there.”

Your vision went stark white as they kept their paces steady, Tom’s fingers curling up inside of you as Harrison never stopped the continuous kissing and sucking along your clit. When you finally relaxed your breathing and looking down, Tom was watching as his fingers slowly moved from inside you, separating his fingers as he watched your arousal spread across his hand. Harrison met your eyes as he brought Tom’s hand up to his mouth, licking his best friend’s fingers clean of your cum. Those soft, pink lips wrapped around Tom’s digits, sucking on them with a sly grin as he watched you squirm with delight at the sight.

“She tastes lovely, mate,” Harrison muttered, and Tom chuckled, reaching over with that same hand and running his index finger through your folds.

“Looks just as lovely,” Tom murmured. “Look at how wet she is.”

“Now she’s properly fucked,” Harrison grinned. “Now she’s ready for you, Tommy.”

“Aye, you think she’ll take me just as well?”

“She better, eh?”

They laughed with each other, and you sat up on your elbows.

“Don’t I get a say?” You asked, and Harrison snickered a bit, leaning over you as he brought you close to him to kiss you. You shared a hot, sloppy kiss, and you sighed as he put a hand into your hair, tugging at it gently and bringing you up so he could bite at your ear.

“And what the bloody hell made you think you had a say in who fucks you first, eh?”

You gasped as he threw you back down onto the bed, and Tom smacked your thighs enough to prompt you to roll over, settling on your knees and leaning over on your forearms as Tom spread your ass apart, enough to give him room to lick warm stripes between them. You sighed with relief as he soothed you.

“Don’t let her cum,” Harrison said finally, smoothing a rough hand down your back, rubbing the skin there softly. “That’s up to me.”

“Said who?”

“Said fucking me,” Harrison snapped, leaning down to face you. “Did you hear me, angel? No matter how much that prick gives you, don’t you dare fucking cum—” You gasped as he gripped your hair hard. “—don’t you dare finish unless it’s around my cock, do you hear me?”

“Y-Yes, Harri—ah!”

You were thrust forward as Tom pushed into you, moving slowly until his hips pressed against yours from behind. Tom leaned his head back, staying there for a moment as Harrison watched your face contort in a dozen faces of pleasure. Mouth open, sweat forming, face scrunch, moans escaping you uncontrollably. Harrison wrapped a hand around himself, slowly moving his hand as he watched that sweet face of yours as Tom fucked you raw. It was beautiful to listen to you moan like that, give up control, allow Tom to just rut his hips into yours over and over again as he found his high. Tom was stretching you out deliciously, his hands smoothing over your hips as he moved, and you cried out again as he lifted you up so your back was flush against his chest.

“You’re so beautiful, love,” he murmured in your ear. “You’re so bloody sweet, so tight. Why did you never tell me how fucking tight you were, y/n, hmm? You hid this from me all this time, yeah?”

His words were so encouraging, praising the part of you that ached to be loved, and it felt so good to be praised. You adored validation, needed satisfaction, and Tom was giving it to you so well. And any time you opened your eyes, the sight of Harrison getting off to you was almost too much.

“Get off,” Harrison said suddenly, and Tom scoffed.

“Like hell—”

Harrison stood up, and Tom groaned, pulling out of you slowly. You fell back onto the bed, panting hard. You were getting close to going over that blissful second high, but Tom had pulled out far too quickly. You turned over in bed, watching as Tom kept pumping himself. Harrison and Tom were side by side, touching themselves to the sight of you, and you whimpered as you watched, reaching down to touch your clit as Tom finally came over your stomach, leaving white, sticky streaks across your skin. Harrison pushed you back against the bed, filling the emptiness inside of you quickly as he laid over on top of you, caging you between his arms as he relentlessly started moving.

“I know, baby,” Harrison whispered in your ear, and you arched your back into him as he found your sweet spot almost immediately. The way your body contorted in response told him just how badly you needed him to keep touching it. “I know, baby, you want to cum, don’t you, angel?”

“Yes, Harri, p-please,” you managed to get out, your arms going around him. Your nails started scratching down his back as he thrusted up into you, his hips driving at a hard, fast pace to get you right back to where you were just a few minutes ago. Your skin was moving against one another’s, warm breaths and sweat mingling pleasurably, and the heat between you was electric. There was so much friction between your bodies, and the squelching sound of his cock continuously driving into you was a delicious sound that you never wanted to stop hearing. For a few moments, you forgot everything that was happening around you and just gave into the hazy, dizzy warmth of sexual pleasure that Harrison’s rough thrusts were giving you.

“You’re so tight, aren’t you, dove?” Harrison grunted, tangling a hand into your hair as he kissed you. Your knees came up his sides, your toes curling as he changed the angle of his hips, the tip of his cock getting so far up inside you that you practically screamed out in relief. That coil was snapping and whipping inside of you, but it hadn’t flung into oblivion yet. Harrison was so good at getting you there and prolonging that blissful haze for as long as possible, and you never wanted it to stop. “Your sweet, little cunt is just taking me so fucking well, innit?”

“Harri, please,” you whined, kissing him softly. Your mouths met so sloppily, but he held you close, quickening his pace as he felt his own high coming. The begs falling from you only made him more eager to chase his high, chase yours, and he put both hands on your cheeks, forcing you to look at him.

“That’s it,” Harrison growled, watching your mouth fall open as he did a few hard, pounding thrusts. “You want to cum, angel, I know you do. Just do it. Just fucking cum, all over me, love. Let me feel you.”

You both met in a hard kiss as you both came at once, your hips stilling as his did, his cock filling you with a warmth that shook you to your core. You clawed at his biceps, holding him there, and when you both finally opened your mouths to breathe, it was instinct to keep kissing.

You finally leaned your head back and panted, and Harrison looked down between your bodies, watching and listening to the wetness between you move and drip as he pulled out slowly. You sat up on your elbows, watching him with a slight smile, and Tom came over from where he was sitting to gather it up on his fingers and stick it into your mouth. You hummed around his fingers, giggling, and both boys couldn’t help but give you soft, warm kisses afterwards, enough to make your heart swell.

“You alright?” Harrison asked, getting onto his feet as you rolled out your neck and stretched. You nodded with a smile, and Harrison slipped an arm around your waist, brushing your hair back so he could make sure you were okay himself. You enjoyed the way his rough hand soothed the skin down your back as he kissed your shoulder, but you would’ve stayed there for longer had you not needed to clean yourself up.

Tom laid back against the bed as Harrison helped you to the bathroom, and he stood there for a moment after you closed the door, leaning his forehead against it. When he turned around to face Tom, he frowned.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Harrison muttered as he found his boxers. He pulled them on quickly.

“You fancy her,” Tom said simply, shrugging a bit. Harrison scoffed, turning around as he busied himself in tidying up his clothes. He didn’t want Tom to see the redness that had begun creeping up his neck. He was blushing, that was for certain.

“Shut up, mate.”

The door opened, and you came out in a towel, going to your closet and getting out something to wear. Tom stood up suddenly, rolling out his neck as he started to collect himself.

“You know, angel, I’ve got somewhere I’ve gotta be in the morning,” Tom said softly, coming towards you. You looked up at him as he dragged a few knuckles down your face, kissing your forehead. “Don’t pout, love,” Tom chuckled. “Harrison’s staying.”

Harrison whipped his head around as he watched you both kiss, and Tom padded out into the living room to find his clothes, closing the bedroom door behind him. You turned around to face Harrison, shrugging a bit. You looked so sweet standing there, rocking back and forth on your heels as you each watched each other, staring as if minutes ago Harrison hadn’t been cock-deep inside of you and making you scream his name. You were both timid around each other suddenly.

“I-I guess it’s just me and you,” you said sheepishly, and Harrison nodded, scratching the back of his neck.

“Aye,” he held out his hand. You took it gratefully, and you both got into bed, slipping under the covers as you heard your front door open and close. Harrison managed to put a hand around your middle, and you scooted back against him as you closed your eyes. Harrison leaned over, kissing the side of your face as he watched the curtains flutter against moonlight. You both were tucked into each other, cuddling close, and you wished every time you closed your eyes, you felt this warm. “You alright, y/n?”

Harrison’s hand went into your hair, running his fingers through it and soothing you lovingly. You could stay like this for hours, with his hands in your hair and his kisses on your neck and his sweet words on your lips. Gentle, so gentle, and you never wanted to let go.

“Never been better.”

[cadence-talle]

looking for the golden light

Pairing: Dex Dizznee/Tam Song

Wordcount: 1,186

Summary: Tam slams into the shop wearing a large straw hat, face stormy. The door he’s shoved open hits the magazine stand and almost knocks it over. Dex winces.

His hat has flowers on it. Uh oh.

Other notes: written around a prompt by the wonderful @i-love-side-characters!! my line was “Seriously? I can’t believe you’d think that.” which i... followed. mostly. 

anyway please don’t ask me what this is, i Do Not know. it’s set in the 1950s? maybe? Dex works at a drugstore with a soda fountain :/

Taglist: @everyonehasthoughts, @catboyruy, @loverofallthingssmart, @a-lonely-tatertot, @enbies-and-felonies, @lemontarto, @sofia-not-sophie, @ruewen-and-rising, @silver-snow, @keefeinnit, @hyperlollypop, @thesandsofdawn, @my-swan-song, @impostertamsong, @yeetersofthelostcities, @diamond-dreamerr, @we-have-no-bananas-today, @an-absolute-travesty, @callas-starkflower-stew, @jadenightthewriter, @keefes-hairgel, @kirisong, @fire-sapphics, @alabestrine, @brilliantblindinglights, @isapizzas, @mistythegenderqueermess, @imaramennoodle, @queersofthelostcities, @b-blurryyfacee, @bianavacker-is-bi-as-hell, @silver-war, @real-smooth

“Where is he.” 

Tam slams into the shop wearing a large straw hat, face stormy. The door he’s shoved open hits the magazine stand and almost knocks it over. Dex winces. 

His hat has flowers on it. Uh oh. 

“Where. Is. Keefe.” Tam repeats. Dex raises an eyebrow, drying off another glass and putting it on the shelf. He’s lucky the drugstore’s empty right now- when Tam’s in a mood like this, it tends to scare off customers. 

“He’s not on shift today. Why, what happened?”

Tam huffs. “Remember when I came here last week? Because I needed more silver dye for my hair and I was out? And Keefe gave me that bottle?”

“You used it? Seriously? I can’t believe you’d think that thing was legit.”

“Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting it to turn my head green!” Tam whips the hat off his head and Dex hides a laugh behind his hand. 

Sure enough, Tam’s hair is green. Neon green, in fact, a color Dex would be astonished at if he hadn’t made that particular dye himself. It almost seems to glow in the sunlight coming through the front windows. 

“Looks good,” Dex says, trying to keep the giggle out of his voice. From the glower Tam gives him, it doesn’t work. 

“Can you fix it or not?”

“Yeah, I can. Gimme a second.” Dex turns to the soda fountain and fills up a cup, sliding it over the counter to Tam. “Drink this. Maybe it’ll make you less homicidal.” 

Tam slides onto one of the stools and sighs, taking a sip. “Thanks,” he mutters, which is about as close an apology as Dex is going to get. Dex hums and rummages around in the medicine cabinet. 

“Here,” he says after a second. “This’ll turn your hair back. I think you have to bleach it first, though. It’s not as strong as the green one was.”

“Ugh.” Tam puts his head on the counter. “It’s Sunday.”

“Oh.” Sunday means the barber- the only place Tam can get his hair bleached- is closed. Which means... 

“I’m going to be like this for at least another day, aren’t I.” Tam’s tone is defeated. Dex stares at him for a moment, watches his fingers tap against the side of his stool in some sort of confusing rhythm. 

Fine. Okay. 

He crosses the shop and turns the OPEN sign on the front to CLOSED. It’s only four and he’s probably going to get chewed out for this, but it’s fine. Livvy loves him anyway. 

“I can bleach your hair here,” Dex says. “If you have an hour or two.” 

Tam lifts his head up. “You can?” 

“Yeah. Grab that towel unless you want to ruin your shirt and come into the back room.” 

“Okay,” Tam says. When Dex glances back, he could swear Tam’s smiling. 

The bleaching itself doesn’t take long. Dex brushes it on, folds Tam’s hair up into a cap, and settles down to wait. In the meantime, he switches the radio on. 

It starts up on a bright song, crackling halfway through to a news report as Dex adjusts the antenna. Tam leans over to listen. 

“Your new project?” he asks. Dex nods. 

“I’ve rewired it to pick up long-distance signals. It’s not super useful to know what the weather in Seattle is, I guess, but it’s cool.” 

“Yeah.” Tam reaches out and presses a button. They connect to another music station. “It’s cool that you can do stuff like that, though. You think you’ll go to college for mechanics or something?” 

“I want to.” Dex shrugs. “Depends, I guess. If I get a scholarship.”

“Right,” Tam says. There’s an awkward pause and Dex searches frantically for something to fill the silence. 

“What about you? Do you want to study anything?” 

Tam huffs a little laugh, glancing down at the countertop. “Probably,” he says. “Maybe. Yes.” 

Dex looks at him, at the way his shoulders hunch in just a little bit and his eyes are firmly fixed on the marble. It’s weird, to see Tam so unsure of himself. To see Tam without the tough pretense. 

“It’s still a year till graduation,” Dex says. “You have time to figure it out.” 

“Yeah.” Tam smiles a little and goes to tug at his hair, realizing halfway through that it’s still covered. Dex snorts. 

“The bleach will be set soon. I think we have more silver in the cabinets, actually, if you want to do your bangs while you’re here.” 

“Oh.” Tam nods and doesn’t say anything else. Dex tilts his head at him. 

“Do you want to dye your bangs while you’re here?”

Tam shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve had the silver bangs forever. I can’t tell if I want to keep them or- not.”

“They were, like, a rebellion thing, right?” 

“Yeah. Which was great, when I lived with my parents and it’d make my dad pissed, but now we’re staying with Wylie and Tiergan and it’s just like.” Tam waves a hand. “I don’t know.”

The song on the radio changes into something fast and upbeat. Dex lowers the volume. 

“It’s up to you,” he says. “Right? Your hair.” 

“Right.” 

“Speaking of which. The bleach is probably done by now.” Dex stifles another laugh as Tam uncovers his hair, which is now a bright blond. “You look fantastic.” 

Without saying anything, Tam reaches for his hat. He stares at Dex, face expressionless. 

“Time to hit the beach, I guess.” Dex says, and watches as Tam’s poker face breaks. 

Applying the dye takes an annoyingly long time. Dex is careful to get every strand of hair, leaving the bangs for last. When he’s almost done, he steps back and looks at Tam.

“Do it,” Tam says. “I don’t have anything to prove anymore.”

Dex smiles and finishes the bottle. 

“Thanks you,” Tam murmurs later, when his hair is tucked up again and almost done. “You didn’t have to do all of this.” 

“I wanted to, though,” Dex points out. “Couldn’t just let you run around looking like a paintbrush.”

Tam laughs. He reaches out and takes Dex’s hand, examining the black blotches on his fingertips where the dye seeped through his gloves. Dex pretends his heart isn’t beating a mile a minute. 

“Still,” Tam says. “Thank you.”

-/-

“Good morning.”

The radio’s playing again when Tam walks into the shop the next day. He’s still wearing the straw hat. Dex can see his bangs under it, though, and they’re a perfect natural color. He raises an eyebrow at Tam. 

“Nice hat. Keefe’s in the back, by the way, if you still want to yell at him.”

“Thank you.” Tam slides onto his stool again. “And no, actually. I just came here so I could talk to you.” 

“Oh.” Dex blinks. “What about?”

Tam looks at him. Looks down at the ground. Looks into his eyes again.

“They’re playing a movie musical at the theater next weekend,” he says, voice level. “Would you like to go with me?”

He’s so calm and perfectly awkward that Dex cracks a smile. 

“I’d like that,” he says. The radio keeps singing. 

[writertitan]

Midnight

pairing: eren x reader

themes: modern au, new year’s eve, angsty if you squint

A chorus of cheers erupted almost as soon as you crossed the threshold of Sasha’s home, though from the clinks and clatters of glass and the smell of bourbon, you could tell that the cheers were in celebration of something other than your unnoticed arrival.  

“Welcome!” Sasha greeted you with a warm smile and bright eyes, tugging you further into her equally warm and bright house, where everyone was already a little tipsy, a little rowdy. You didn’t want to look visibly nervous, but there you were, shoulders up to your ears and eyes shifting back and forth, looking for that mess of dark hair, those green eyes that pierced through you and everyone else. You nearly jumped when Sasha’s whisper danced into your ear. “Don’t worry, he’s not here and I don’t think he’ll show up.” 

“I wasn’t looking for him,” you mumbled, a little indignant, and then rolled your eyes when you saw Sasha’s knowing smirk. “I just don’t want things to be awkward, Sasha. It’s been months since we’ve even seen each other, let alone been in the same space all night. I guess I’m just...a little worried. Well, I was. Are you sure he’s not coming?” 

“Doubt it,” she says, that smirk still plastered on her face. “Why? Does that make you saaaad?” 

“Shut up,” you groaned, but you yanked on her ponytail playfully to let her know you weren’t upset as you walked past her, ready to pour some bourbon for yourself to ease your nerves. 

I’ll have to catch up, you thought to yourself with a grin as Connie raised his half-full glass to your full one, a silly laugh escaping him as you clink your glass to his. 

“Happy new year! Almost!” he nearly shouted before downing the last of his drink in a swift gulp. You tried to follow his pace, always competitive with him, but ended up coughing up some bourbon. Connie laughed instantly, and you could faintly hear Jean laughing as well, which made you glare at the two of them through watered-up eyes, stinging from the liquor. 

“Loser, can’t even hold your bourbon in and you just barely showed up!” Jean laughed, wiggling his almost empty cup in your face, as if to show off his own progress. 

Instead of verbally retaliating, you took another sip and spat it out at him, bursting out into laughter this time with the shout of surprise that came out of his mouth. 

“When are you gonna learn to leave me alone, huh?” you said, snickering and secretly giving Connie a high-five. Evidently, you weren’t going to be needing to drink too much to calm your nerves. You downed the rest of your drink anyway, mostly to piss Jean off and show Connie your two-person drinking game was on. With each drained glass, you felt yourself get looser and warmer, felt the world get a little whirlier, and you found yourself even looking forward to the new year, despite having to leave some things -- and some people -- behind. 

No, you promised yourself you wouldn’t think about that, you thought to yourself again, shaking your head as if to shake the thoughts out. Unfortunately, the shaking made things go a little dizzy, and you bumped into a table to steady yourself. 

“Ugh,” you groaned, setting down your glass and rubbing your forehead. All this drinking was going to be a bitch in the morning, and the discomfort of your intoxication was already getting to you. Even steadying yourself on the table the dizziness didn’t let up, the whirling didn’t stop, and the alcohol churned in your body, that familiar nausea finally surfacing. 

“Oh shit, she’s gonna blow.” 

Whoever had said that should have counted their lucky stars you were too drunk to do anything but stumble to Sasha’s bathroom, but you figured it was stupid Connie, eager to win your drinking game yet again. You shut the bathroom door behind you and took a deep breath, kneeling in front of the toilet and leaning onto your side to use the wall as support, your cheek hitting its cool surface. You didn’t actually think you were going to throw up, but you’d been wrong about these things before, and it was better to be safe than sorry. A knock at the door made you snap your head over too quickly, the dizziness almost being the catalyst for that awful nausea to finally bubble over into the toilet, but you kept your composure. You heard your name being called on the other side of the door, and something about the voice seemed familiar…

“Hold on,” you slurred, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. I won’t puke, I’m not gonna puke, nope, nope, nope…

Your name was called again, this time clearer and more easily heard above the reverberating music and chatter of everyone else still partying. “C’mon, open the door.” You didn’t answer, finally recognizing the voice, your heart stuttering and fighting in your ribcage. No way. “Alright, since you’re not answering, I’m coming in.”

“No!” But it was too late. Your vision swam as Eren’s figure stepped into the cramped bathroom with you, quietly shutting the door behind him before kneeling in front of you. If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn that his eyes were clouded with concern for you. But you did know better. 

“Jesus, are you okay?” he whispered, careful to keep his voice low. 

“What are you doing here? Sasha said you weren’t coming!” you whined, slumping over the toilet. You flinched when you felt a warm hand on your back, and when he registered the flinch, he promptly pulled his hand away. You didn’t know which action hurt you more. 

“Changed my mind,” Eren answered simply. You could almost hear the casual shrug of his shoulders. 

You said nothing, squeezing your eyes shut and willing this to be a nasty dream. The booze had loosened you up and made you forget about Eren for the night, comforted in the thought of him not showing up. Now it was coaxing out your fears and your innermost conflicts. Drunk you wanted to lash out, to bring up those painful topics, but the tiniest sliver of the sober you was still screaming and fighting for your silence. It worked; Eren waited for you to speak, to say something, anything, but spoke up again when he realized you wouldn’t. 

“I’m probably the last person you want to be around, but just let me stay and make sure you don’t choke on your own puke,” he mumbled. The words made you sit up again and glare at him, though the glassy look in your eyes didn’t do well to intimidate him. In fact, it made him smile at you. “What, you think I don’t remember how you get when you drink too much? I’m surprised you haven’t been barfing your guts out this entire time.” 

“I’m not going to barf,” you growled, trying feebly to kick him away. Was the alcohol fucking you up even more than it already had? You felt more intoxicated now. Your senses were going wild and you felt bleary, heavy, like your center of gravity was changing, like your orbit was off. Instead of being focused at your core, it had seeped out elsewhere, making you lean away from the wall and closer to...

No. Drunk you was going to be the death of sober you. 

“Eren, I’m fine. Go have fun,” you whispered, not daring to look at him. In fact, you hadn’t looked directly at him this whole time. You recoiled from him and slumped against the wall, finally chancing a look his way. 

He was beautiful. Always beautiful, but especially tonight. He hadn’t given a damn about dressing up like everyone else, which was classic Eren, and that’s what made him look perfect. The careless bun at the nape of his neck, the ripped jeans, his favorite tattered sweatshirt with his band’s name stamped on it. Purposefully unkempt, as you’d often told him in the past. The past...where you’d once been together. 

“It’s not much better out there. I saw you run in here when I was walking in and wanted to make sure you were doing better than Connie. He’s outside throwing up over the porch, and don’t even get me started on Sasha,” Eren said, rolling his eyes. His gaze was gentle when he looked back at you. “I’ll have a better time in here with you.” 

Your breath hitched at the words. This wasn’t actually happening. You weren’t going to let yourself believe it. 

“You don’t have to be nice to me. I don’t know why you’re being so nice to me,” you blurted out. Finally, the words that had been dying to come out. Drunk you was absolutely going to be the death of sober you.

This made Eren speechless, for once. His eyes widened for a moment and you could tell the wheels were turning in his head.

“You’re too wasted for me to have an actual conversation with you,” he decided with a sigh, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. Both of you remembered at that moment when it was you fixing his hair, pushing it out of his face. 

“Am not!” you tried to argue, flinging the nostalgia away and replacing it with your haughty attitude. Eren remembered that too well, the attitude always coming out after too many drinks. “If you have something to say to me, I suggest you say it.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

The words hung in the air between you. Two throats choked up, two pairs of eyes locked, and two hearts ached and called out for each other. 

Your bottom lip trembled when the shame overcame you, pushing you back against the wall to put distance between yourself and Eren. All those months of being good, of avoiding him, of blocking him everywhere, of doing everything to keep moving on...it couldn’t crumble like this. 

“Why did you do it?” you asked meekly, praying the tears that burned your eyes would go away. You looked at your lap, feeling dead sober now. 

Eren didn’t know how to answer the question. How could he tell you that he had done it to save you from the heaviness in him after everything that had happened with his family? He was broken and refused to drag you down with him. He wasn’t good enough. He had needed to find the strength to get better without you, because that wasn’t fair to you to have to shoulder the burden. He’d never ask that of you. 

And now you were in front of him, but you were too drunk to comprehend anything he’d try to voice out. 

“I didn’t do it because I stopped...loving you,” was all he could say, “I just thought that hurting you like that was better than hurting you like I would have if I’d been selfish enough to put you through all my heavy shit. And when I realized you had cut me off and that you were avoiding me, I wanted to give you space.” 

You began to speak, reaching out for him, a blaze of fire in your eyes, and Eren knew what was coming. He stopped you by cupping his hand over your mouth, chuckling when you froze in surprise. 

“If I promise I’ll be right there next to you tomorrow morning so we can talk, will you promise to wait to yell at me until then?” he whispered. 

You slumped your shoulders in silent resignation and nodded, the feeling of his touch overwhelming your senses. You had missed him. Even just the playful touch of his hand on your mouth to silence you was enough to make your body heat up. When he took it away, you felt cold. 

“There’s just about two minutes left until midnight…” Eren started, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. His gaze was averted, but you saw the way he kept looking at you out of the corner of his eye as you both got up, him helping you get back on your feet. 

You smiled and tried to fight the blush that crept onto your cheeks as your hand found his, the warmth spreading over you again when he squeezed your fingers. Neither of you let go. 

“You’re not gonna make me start the new year alone, are you?” you teased him, and the familiar glint in those green eyes made your heart swell. 

“You’re not gonna puke on me, right?” he countered, laughing quietly when you hit his chest. He let you lean on him for support after sitting down for so long, but you refused to believe you were still a little tipsy. Walking out of the bathroom, your eyes blinked to adjust from the difference of lighting from the harsh fluorescents of the bathroom to the dim fairy lights adorning the hallway. 

“There’s gonna be fireworks outside at midnight. Wanna watch with me?” you asked, fighting back the shyness that made you fumble your words. Eren nodded almost immediately, an arm locked around your waist as you guided him to Sasha’s bedroom where all the coats were sprawled out on her bed. The lights were off but you didn’t turn them on, in too much of a hurry and too distracted by Eren’s presence behind you. You grabbed which one you thought was yours and started pulling it on, but perked up with Eren when the drunken chorus of your friends’ voices rang out. 

“TEN, NINE, EIGHT, SEVEN…”

You didn’t want to leave Eren behind. You wanted him next to you when the morning rose for the first day of a new year. You wanted to get closer and closer to him as your friends counted down the seconds from the living room. You wanted your lips on his at midnight. 

He wanted the same. 

His breath was warm on your face as you pressed up against him, the familiarity of your stance no longer bruising your heart, but balming it. Your hands were on his shoulders, fingers dancing up to caress his jaw, to subtly pull his face closer to yours. His hands glided down your sides until they found their favorite place at the small of your back. Your noses touched and he nudged yours playfully with his to get a smile out of you, your hearts both beating frantically. Even in the dark, hardly any light coming in, your bodies had found each other naturally, like nothing had changed. 

“TWO, ONE...HAPPY NEW YEAR!!” 

You could hear phone alarms going off, then fireworks, as your lips pressed to Eren’s. It wasn’t the booze making you feel lightheaded anymore. It was the softness of the boy’s lips, and the way he automatically pulled you in closer. The hair that had fallen out of his bun tickled your face and made you smile into the kiss, which made him mirror your actions. The fireworks outside boomed and crackled as Eren deepened your kiss, a hand moving up to cup your cheek gingerly. Your hands moved to push his hair away from his face, an action that was so familiar to the both of you that it left both of you breathless, and only then did you pull away from the kiss. 

“Happy new year,” you whispered in his ear, a dreamy smile playing on your lips as Eren’s continued to find your skin, not even close to being done kissing you. He wanted to memorize every inch of you all over again. The curve of your neck, the softness of your cheek, the tip of your nose. How he’d survived all this time without you was a fluke, a stroke of luck. It was impossible to go another day without at least seeing your face. He’d needed to see you and he was glad he’d come even if just out of hope that you might have been at the party too. 

“Happy new year,” Eren whispered into the crook of your neck, your name mumbled into your skin. When you both eventually pulled away from each other, he took your hand in his to guide you out, mumbling something about not wanting to miss the fireworks. You knew that him proudly holding your hand in front of your friends may have been a contributing factor in rushing you out. 

“Hey,” you said as you made your way to the front door, a devilish grin on your lips. “Did you say that Connie was losing it on the porch?” 

Eren nodded with a roll of his eyes, pulling you into his side. “Yep. Careful, his splash zone’s pretty gnarly.” 

You laughed loudly, almost a cackle, a glint in your eye as you tugged Eren outside with you. Connie was still slumped over the porch railing, looking delirious. 

“Hey, Connie! I won this time! And you say you can always drink me under the table, but I didn’t even throw up!” 

“Shut the hell up or else I’ll puke all over you.” 

“Whatever. Happy new year! Wait, is that Sasha eating snow?”

[engagemachine]

How would J react if Taylor swore infront/at him?

May 22nd: New update

Anon, I’ve been thinking about this ask for daaaaays. Had to write a fic. This is just part one (turned out a lot longer than I thought it would be--wrote it in one sitting) and I’ll post part two as soon as it’s done!

FYI: This takes place early on in Burn, probably sometime around chapter two, so Taylor is back in high school. 

---

It’s still snowing outside when Taylor slides into her seat for third period English. She loves the overlarge windows in here, stretching along almost the entire wall of the left-hand side of the classroom. Black windowpanes showcase the little fountain in the courtyard, the stone benches seated around it, and the long, winding sidewalk where each senior from the class of 2002 got to lay down a single handprint in the cement to commemorate their pending graduation. Taylor thinks she would’ve liked that, to immortalize a piece of herself in that way, inscribing her name inside her handprint. Taylor B. It intrigued her, the thought of someone walking over her handprint years later, wondering who Taylor B was, what she was like, where she was now.

The fountain is frozen over, and the courtyard is blanketed in a thick layer of snow, still untouched. She wonders what it says about her that she often fantasizes about being the first one to run out and ruin it, leave her footprints behind, crunch through snow that is knee-deep, that no one else has sullied yet. There’s something about being the first person to disrupt the beauty of nature. Like stepping on a fallen dead leaf, the satisfaction of hearing it crackle beneath your feet. Or jumping into a still lake, watching the ripples that fan out across the water as you break through to the surface. Like leaving footprints in the sand at the beach, only to have them rinsed away by the incoming tide moments later. It’s a temporary disruption—and perhaps that’s the appeal.

Taylor settles into her seat and takes out her books. The classroom is unusually bright, the sky outside milky and pale as the snow piles up, falling softly in great big clumps. Mrs. Herndan leaves the lights off because they don’t need them.  

Everyone is a little more animated than usual. If it keeps snowing like this, they might call it a half day and get to go home early. Taylor hopes that happens, that way she can order take-out and hang out with Mr. J. Maybe they can watch a movie together—something scary, so she has an excuse to cuddle up next to him, if he’ll let her. She’s been testing the boundaries of affection he’s willing to allow her to bestow, and recently she’s been surprised by how much she’s been able to get away with. Just last week she fell asleep next to him on the couch with her head on his shoulder—totally by accident—and he didn’t even move her. Just let her sleep there like that until she woke up, his hand heavy on her thigh, right above her knee, at which point she jumped up, all groggy and still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She swore up and down that she was sorry, she’d never do it again. She was so afraid he’d be mad, but he just looked at her kind of funny, like he was trying not to laugh, and she blushed furiously and hurried off to her room.

Class is kind of boring, and it’s hard to focus when everyone seems just as distracted as she is. Mrs. Herndan has to stop her lesson twice just to tell everyone to be quiet and put their phones away. Taylor is snapped to attention each time she does. She didn’t even realize she had been staring at the window.

When the bell rings, Mrs. Herndan shouts out their homework assignment for the weekend, but it’s mostly lost to the din of jostling bodies and excited chatter of weekend plans as everyone fights to get through the door at once. Whatever. She’ll just have check the syllabus when she gets home. They’re reading Romeo and Juliet and it’s really hard to understand. Maybe she can find a way to rent a movie of it from the library—there’s supposed to be a version with Leonardo DiCaprio, she thinks. Maybe that’ll help. Sometimes she wants to ask Mr. J for help—and in the past she has, like when she had to make that volcano for science class, and he knew exactly what to do—but Romeo and Juliet is way too embarrassing. All those thees and thous, the declarations of love. Like she could ever ask Mr. J to interpret that for her, not without dying from embarrassment first.

She gets twenty minutes into her next class before they finally call it on the overhead speakers—school is closed. She smiles to herself as she packs up her books, already imagining herself curled up on the couch with her sketchbook and a cup of hot cocoa. She should still have some marshmallows left over—as long as Mr. J hasn’t eaten them all. He’s always eating her snacks. Sometimes, in a moment of pure frustration upon stumbling onto an empty bag or box of secret snacks she had stashed away specifically for herself, she tells him to buy his own snacks, but he always counters with, I did buy these, giving her a pointed look, and, yeah, he kinda did. It’s his money, after all. Not like she could buy any of this stuff without him.

She’s pulling the rest of her books from her locker and shoving them into her backpack when she feels a tap on her shoulder from behind. She turns around to face Jennifer Bartlett—from her geometry class—who is holds out a pink envelope decked in glitter and little metallic hearts.

“You’re inviiiiited,” she sings, thrusting the card into Taylor’s hands. Taylor blinks at her.

“Me?” she asks. Clearly this is some kind of mistake. Maybe a joke.

“It’s a sleepover, so bring a sleeping bag, okay? And like, don’t tell your mom or whatever, but my parents won’t be there, so make sure you just get dropped off in the driveway and none of your parents try to come inside.”

“Oh,” she says, her mind still swirling from the invite. A sleepover. “Okay.” She forces her gaping mouth shut, quickly nods, tries not to look too overeager. “Okay,” she says again, a little cooler, smiling a little. “I’ll totally be there.”

“Great!”

Jennifer bounds off down the hallway, joining a group of giggling girls waiting for her at the end, and Taylor looks down at the envelope in her hand, her name on it and everything. Taylor B.

She bites her lip and smiles.  

--

Taylor can’t get home fast enough.

The bus takes forever, and they have to divert into South Side because of an accident near Paramount Park.

When she finally hops off the school bus and bounds for home, perhaps she takes off a little faster than she should. One moment her backpack is bouncing behind her as she races down the sidewalk, and the next, she’s spread-eagled and lying flat on her back, staring up at the gray sky as snow drifts down in soft little clumps around her. Oof. That hurt. She didn’t hit her head—thankfully—but she managed to scrape her cheek on the icy pile of snow packed into a miniature wall along the edges of the sidewalk. She thinks her cheek might be bleeding.

She doesn’t know what’s more embarrassing: the fact that she fell, or that the bus driver didn’t stop to help.

She winces as she gets up, wipes the blood from her cheek, brushes the ice and snow from her hands, wipes her palms on her jeans. The bus hisses as it pulls away, and Taylor’s cheeks burn. Maybe no one saw?

Her right leg kind of hurts, and she hobbles the rest of the way home, her excitement not dampened as she crashes through the front door, making it halfway through the kitchen before she remembers to shimmy out of her wet boots. Her socks are wet—there was a lot of slush on the sidewalks the closer she got to home—and her feet leave little wet prints on the kitchen floor before she gets to the carpet. 

“Mr. J!”

He’s not in the living room, and he’s not in his bedroom, either, when she throws open the door and scans the bed, his empty desk. She frowns, pokes her head around the doorframe to her own bedroom. Not there, either.

“Mr. J?” She goes back to the beginning of the hallway, knocks eagerly on the closed bathroom door. She can see yellow light bleeding out from the crack beneath the door, doesn’t know how she missed that before. “Mr. J, you’ll never guess what happened at school today!” She waits a beat for him to say something—a grunt, even, some form of acknowledgement that he hears her, she’d take anything—but when she’s met with silence, she barrels on. “I got invited to a slumber party!” she gushes. She has both palms pressed flat against the door, is bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I ran all the way home to tell you, I can’t believe it!” she squeals. “It’s this Friday so we have to go to the store A-S-A-P so I can get a sleeping bag, okay? I mean—if it’s okay with you that I can go. But I’m sure it will be because I really want to go and I’ve never been to a sleepover before.” She sighs, taking a breath. He still hasn’t said anything, so she turns her back to the door and leans against it. He has to come out eventually. “And you won’t even have to worry about dropping me off because I can just take the bus, okay? I looked up Jennifer’s address at the library at school and I already wrote down how to get there, so I won’t get lost! Oh, and maybe I should get new PJs, too? And do you think that—”

The door is jerked open so suddenly she doesn’t have time to react, and she’s falling backwards before she can catch herself, straight into Mr. J’s chest.

He’s holding her underneath her arms, and she tilts her head back to look up at him—upside down—as he looks down at her. His greasepaint’s bright. Fresh-applied. She can smell its gummy texture.

She smiles up at him, a little unsure. A little frightened. His eyes are so dark. “Jeeze,” she says, lightly, trying to dissolve the tension. “You have to give me a warning, Mr. J.” She tries to laugh a little, but it comes out stilted, and the look he pins her with makes the smile slip right off her face.

“Maybe I would if I could get a word in,” he replies. He gets his arms behind her and pushes her off him. Taylor’s cheeks burn as she stumbles a few feet into the kitchen. She knows she talks a lot when she’s excited. She’s like a faucet that won’t turn off.

“Sorry,” she murmurs. She keeps her head low, a little afraid to meet his eyes. He’s in a bad mood—but she’s determined to go to this party either way, and she won’t stop prodding until he says yes. She glances up for just a second to catch the narrowing of his eyes, and then his hand is reaching out, closing around her jaw in a way that makes her flinch, pulling her towards him.

“What’s this?” he says. His eyes on her skin burn, and it makes the cut on her cheek throb in memory.

“It’s nothing,” she says, annoyed, maybe a little embarrassed. She doesn’t want to have to tell him that she slipped and fell. Also, can they please get back to talking about her slumber party? She impatiently reaches up and pries his hand off her—he lets her. She ventures a few steps back, watching him, and her back hits the counter with a thud. “But about the party—it’s okay if I go, right?”

He ignores her question in favor of taking a few lumbering steps closer—towering over her—and his fingers around her jaw are much softer this time when he takes it in his hand, tilts her head to the side so the cut on her cheek winks at him in the light that streaks out from the bathroom.

He sounds almost curious when he asks, “Did someone hit you?”

His question feels like a gut-punch. She looks up at him, eyes widening in surprise for a moment, and then her gaze narrows, and she’s a little more forceful this time when she pries his hand off her jaw.

“No,” she snaps. She can’t believe he thinks she got bullied. “I’m not a loser. I know how to fight back if I have to,” she scowls.  

He looks at her for a long moment, his eyes hard and calculating, but she makes a point to meet his stare head on. She’s not going to flinch away. After a beat, he grins a little—some secret smile, like he’s in on some joke she’s not privy to.

“Of course you do,” he says.

“So can I go to the slumber party or not?”

Mr. J raises his eyebrows as he thinks about it. “Dunno,” he says, “I seem to recall your last little, uh, party, didn’t end so hot. Maybe you remember,” he muses, leaning down low, so their faces are level, “—or maybe you don’t, since you were high as a fucking kite.”

Taylor balks at him—he never curses, at least not around her—and she can’t help the way her mouth parts in shock. She can feel the threads of hope she’d been clinging to rapidly slipping out of her hands.

Truthfully, there’s not a lot she remembers from that night. Just a bonfire and a stranger’s half-remembered bedroom. The weight of a body she hadn’t wanted, a frisson of fear, electric as it sizzled down her spine, and then fumbling down the stairs, out the front door. Nobody had even cared. And then the frigid moon, the icy bite of wind on her cheeks. She remembers Mr. J, at some point, and waking up in that old airplane hangar, where she’d promptly puked her guts out over the side of the couch. The rest of that night is a blur. It’s probably better that way.

“It’s not—” she stops. Tries to find her footing around the right set of words. She just wants this so badly. It’s her one opportunity to fit in. To make friends. To be somebody. She wants so desperately to try and explain it to him, make him understand how badly she needs this—but somehow she knows he won’t get it. He doesn’t care about fitting in, or being liked—he’s the most unliked person in all of Gotham. Maybe even the whole world.

“It won’t be like that this time,” she assures. “There won’t be any boys there. I promise. It’s just a girl party. And I promise I’ll be really, really good and come straight home after.”

Mr. J’s eyes are dark as he watches her plead her case, and she takes the opportunity to stick out her bottom lip and put on an exaggerated pout. “Pretty please?” she says. “With lots of sugar on top?”

The corner of his mouth curls into a grin. “Okay, baby doll. Since you asked so nicely.”

“Eeep!” She squeals in excitement, immediately perking up, diving forward to throw her arms around his waist. She gives him a squeeze and he surprises her by patting her back. Once. Twice. His display of affection makes her cheeks warm, and she squeezes him a little tighter, happy to bask in the moment. “Thank you, Mr. J.”

--

Taylor buys a new set of jammies and a sleeping bag. She even spends the whole day prior reading about sleepovers, Googling at the library, getting more and more excited. She wonders if they’ll do face masks, or have a pillow fight, or watch a romantic movie, or paint each other’s nails? 

She goes to Mr. J to model her new PJs for him, a yellow top with tiny blue flowers, with little matching shorts and a scalloped hem. She is bouncing around his bedroom—she had a Red Bull earlier for the first time ever, and whoa—and she does a cartwheel on the bed once she has his attention, collapsing into a heap on the floor because she misjudged the distance. She giggles, and then uses the bed to pull herself up while she prances around the room and chatters about her slumber party. She has a little notepad she found in a drawer in the kitchen, and after a few minutes, she flops back on his bed, holding the notepad above her face. She’s making a list of all the stuff she might need to bring. She read online that sometimes you should bring snacks. 

“Hey Mr. J, cookies or chips?” she asks.

She turns to lay on her side, facing him, where he’s seated in his desk chair and has spun around to watch her, his fingers drumming against the armrests. His eyes are dark—but he doesn’t give her an answer. 

She scowls at his lack of participation, and redirects her attention back to her list, tapping her pencil against her lips.

“Hmm… sometimes cookies have peanut butter, even if they say don’t, and I know lots of people have peanut allergies, sooooo… I’ll go with chips,” she decides, resolute. Her tongue pokes out when she makes a careful, neat checkmark next to the word chips.

She crawls off the bed and skips around the room for a little while longer, clutching her notepad, chattering to herself, mostly. She plays with the books on the bookshelf, all the little knickknacks left behind by the previous owner, rearranging them while she talks, musing about how cool this party’s gonna be, how many friends she’s gonna make. It’s gonna be great.

She lays down on the floor to make some snow-angels on the carpet, flapping her arms and legs slowly, staring up at the ceiling, feeling her energy start to wane. She asks Mr. J if he thinks she should wear her regular clothes to the party, or if she should come dressed in her PJs? And doesn’t he think they’re really pretty? And her sleeping bag comes with a built-in pillow, and isn’t that super cool?

She jolts awake when a pair of arms slip underneath her, hoisting her up, off the floor. She must have fallen asleep.

She frantically blinks the sleep back from her eyes. It’s dark, and she can’t see. “What day is it?” she asks, panicked, her voice cracking. “Is it tomorrow yet? Did I miss the party?”

“Shhh.” Mr. J carries her the short distance to his bed, lowers her to the mattress even as she wraps her arms around his neck, refusing to be put down. She doesn’t even have the forethought to marvel over the fact that he’s just put her in his bed, that she’s lying down on his pillow, or that the covers smell like him. 

“But did I miss it? Is it over?”

She thinks she can hear a smirk in his voice when he says, “No, baby doll, you didn’t miss it. Time to sleep.”

He peels her arms away from his neck, and this time she lets him. She sinks into the mattress, and sinks quickly back into sleep. 

[tact-and-impulse]

@shepherds-of-haven, I took the ‘insatiable’ prompt in the direction of ‘thirst for knowledge...and maybe a god’.

incandescent

“Sure, manuscripts are acceptable offerings, but if you really want to pass all your exams, you have to write something interesting enough to earn Liefred’s favor.”

That was the sage advice handed down by the graduating class, so she’s going to listen to it. The academy’s incredibly traditional, and although the first round of tests is rapidly approaching, she hasn’t quite adjusted. Multiple times, her essays have been returned with blue ink, deducting points for not adhering to the rigid formatting her instructors expect. It’s very annoying, which is why she needs to excel on her exams. Besides, she’s curious as to what would count as ‘interesting enough’ for the god of knowledge and learning. 

Liefred is a young god, technically an ascended mortal from the previous age. Supposedly, he was an accomplished teacher and explorer, who died young in one of the Little Wars, the civil disputes that threatened to tear apart the nation. The myths of him are sparse, mostly related to his aid and rewarding of true seekers of knowledge. There’s a statue of him, in the academy’s foyer. His figure and face are shrouded in windblown cloth, as he lifts a candle in an obvious metaphor for illuminating the mysteries of the world. It’s kind of ironic, considering his appearance is completely hidden. Maybe, they should have hired a better sculptor.

In her tiny dormitory room, there’s only the sound of her quill scritching as she transcribes the summary of her latest paper. Over the years, the caravan had uncovered strange objects, scattered throughout the usual route, but she had challenged herself with thoroughly cataloguing them. Some of the objects were similar, made of metal and cords. Others appeared to be much older and unrelated, but still unusually made. Unfortunately, the academy is disinterested, refusing to investigate further. There’s no guarantee that the god will listen to her, but at the very least, it might entertain him. Folding it into a square, she signs her name in one corner. Then, she feeds it to the lantern on her desk, watching the paper blacken and crumble into ash.

She clasps her hands together and fervently prays. For luck, for remembering what she’s studied so far, for good grades. It’s close to midnight, and too tired to open her books again, she gets ready for bed. She blows at the flame, as she usually does to extinguish it. It wavers but doesn’t go out. Another deep exhale and it’s still lit. Weird. There’s a little water left in her cup and she empties it onto the wick. The flame persists and if anything, it’s increased in intensity. She can’t look directly at the light, her eyes automatically squeezing shut. 

“Do you have any of these items with you?!” The voice is masculine, and that’s definitely out of place. The male students are housed on the opposite end of the dorms. And she didn’t hear anyone knock…

She forces herself to see the intruder, and the lantern’s gone out. Instead, there’s a man, with shockingly red hair and a faint glow about his countenance. He’s not wearing the academy uniform, but a proper set of crimson robes with flowing sleeves and a gold-tasseled belt. His chiseled features break into a smile, as he taps a familiar square of paper.

“These objects you described, we called them ‘machines’, but they were dismantled for parts in the war. I tried to save what I could, to preserve them.” His gaze becomes misty, with longing.

“Uh...are you Liefred?”

“Hm? Oh, sorry, I forgot to introduce myself.” He sweeps one arm forth, then elegantly bows at the waist. He smiles benevolently at her. “Liefred, the Eternal Scholar. I received your offering, and I thank you immensely.”

Her mind spins with questions. “So, you’re the actual god. You can appear to mortals, just like that?!”

“Well, it usually takes effort, and I don’t want to show any favoritism.” He nervously rubs the nape of his neck, the simple motion reminding her that he used to be a normal person. “If any of my priests find out-”

“You got it, my lips are sealed.”

“I appreciate that.” He releases a sigh, as he stands upright again.

She grins. “It’s no problem! I’m glad you took me seriously, unlike everyone else here at the academy. I grew up wayfaring, and my clan found a number of these...machines? We had no idea what they were, let alone that they were so important to you. Did you make them?”

“No, I only spearheaded the excavations. In fact, I have no idea what they do. My peers thought they were relics, but I disagreed. I believe they’re from another realm.”

“Another realm? But you’re a god, aren’t you in charge of every realm?”

“Gods rely on faith. I only exist and am aware of the places that believe in me.” He then adds. “We gods are also not as omnipotent as you think. I may know slightly more than a mortal, but even I’m still learning.”

“Eternal scholar, indeed.” She muses, before remembering his first question. “I don’t have any of the parts on me, but I can send a letter to my clan and have them mail it to me. Unless, you have the ability to teleport.”

“That depends. Does anyone in your clan have a shrine to me?”

“No, we worship the nature deities mostly, for fair weather. But when I’m done with my exams, I can beg them to send what they have.”

“Please.” Just as he says that, he shakes his head. “No, wait. If they’ve been protecting the machines for as long as you said, I have no cause to worry. Now, onto the real business.” He positions his hands before him, interlocking and turning. The paper square is turning over his knuckles, like he can sense what’s written inside just by the deceptively idle motion. His loose sleeves drop, and she can’t resist looking at his sturdy forearms. “I’ll answer your prayer. I can’t drastically change your luck, but from what I can tell, I don’t have to. Overall, you’re prepared, you just need to believe in yourself.”

“Is that it?” She gives a hollow laugh. “Guess the academy life’s messing with my head.”

“I’ve noticed the academy’s courses are more difficult with each year.” He sympathizes and claps once, causing her paper to vanish. Back to the realm of gods, perhaps. How many essays has he saved?

“Can’t you send a vision to your priests, to cut us some slack?”

“I think you’re the first mortal to suggest that to me.” But he’s in a good mood, and he takes her ink-stained right hand. He’s warm and comforting, just like a candle. “I’ll see what I can do. That’s what gods are for, right?”

“Right.” They exchange smiles, and when she blinks, he’s gone. She does feel better though, and there’s one thing she knows for sure. The academy definitely needs to redo his sculpture; what’s the point if it doesn’t capture how attractive he is?

[bobbyshawsupremacy]

‘tis the season

for @thesevenumbrellas birthday!!! you said willex fluff, and willex fluff it is

There was a soft knocking noise, and Alex rolled over, squinting. His room laid cold and dark and empty. Probably just the-

Oh.

Oh, Jesus.

He was out of bed in a moment, scrambling across the room, and yanked his window open, pushing it up. “What the fuck?” he hissed. “What are you doing, oh my God-”

Willie grinned at him, that familiar sharp smile that always tugged Alex into whatever the hell he wanted. “Hey, Al,” he greeted easily, as if it weren’t midnight and he weren’t dangling outside Alex’s window in the snow without a fucking coat on. “How’s it hanging?”

“I hate you,” Alex said flatly. “I hate you. You’re absolutely terrible-” He helped heave Willie in, brushing at his shoulders with a frown. “You’re going to catch your death,” he hissed. He tugged at Willie’s shirt to straighten it out. “You’re an absolute disaster, do you ever use your brain-”

“Alex.” Willie grabbed his face. “Alex. I’m totally okay.” Alex froze, staring at him. The room was still cold and dark and empty, still just another room with boring wooden paneling in another suburban house with a copied floor plan, but something about Willie’s eyes flooded it with light, and suddenly it was warm and bright and full of the both of them, full of the entire world in the few scant inches between them.

Alex’s hands twitched in Willie’s shirt, and he swallowed hard. “Still worried,” he replied, although his voice had lost a bit of its emphasis. Willie hummed, his thumbs rubbing over Alex’s cheeks. His face was soft. Open. Alex could fall into it, if only he leant forward-

Nope. No. No. Definitely not. He tugged himself back and pulled his scowl back on. “You’re an absolute idiot.”

“Mhm.” Willie still looked completely at ease as he reeled an arm around Alex’s waist and reeled him in so that their chests were pressed together. “Don’t let go, I’m cold,” he added, pouting. Alex meant to protest, but Willie was warm and solid and touching him tasted so sweet, so his words turned into a sigh and he wrapped his arms around his friend, holding him tight. Willie’s head laid onto his shoulder, breath ghosting over Alex’s neck. “You feel so nice,” he murmured.

Alex forced out a laugh, even if it was a bit choked. “You’re totally okay, huh?”

“Maybe I just wanted a hug.”

“Well…” he sighed again and tightened his grip. “That’s okay, I guess.”

Willie hummed. His head tilted a bit more, his cold nose pressing into the crook of Alex’s neck. His lips were on Alex’s collarbone as he murmured, “You give the best hugs,” and Alex couldn’t breathe.

They stayed like that for a while- maybe a minute, maybe an eternity, hovering together in the bright dark frigid warmth of Alex’s room, locked together with the wind still open, Willie’s lips sending shocks through Alex’s skin and bones. He let his eyes drift closed, enjoying the feeling of someone in his arms, enjoying the feeling of Willie sagging almost bonelessly into him, giving all his tension away in favour of Alex’s arms. This was a dangerous game, but he’d never felt this safe. He’d held home this close to his heart before.

Eventually, Willie pulled back to look up at him with those sparkling eyes that doomed him in the first place. “I didn’t just come for hugs,” he admitted. “Come on, I’ve got something to show you.”

“Now?”

“Yeah!” Willie tugged his hand. “Let’s go!”

“But-” Alex’s head spun slightly. “It’s midnight, and my pajamas, and the snow-”

Willie tightened his grip and fixed Alex with a pout. “But Al,” he whined. “I came all the way here, just to get you, and I want you to come so bad.” His pout deepened. “Please?” Alex lasted for all of two seconds before he caved. He did shove his Vans on first, though. Together, they clambered out the window, making it slowly down to the snowy ground. Alex shivered.

Willie noticed and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Don’t worry,” he said cheerfully. “I brought my car. It’s around the corner. Didn’t wanna wake your parents.”

Alex laughed, though the sound was shaking with cold, and leaned heavily into Willie’s side. “My genius,” he joked. Instant regret flooded him, because he’s not yours, dumbass, but Willie just laughed and grinned at him. The stars and the sun were still in his eyes.

The car was warmer, but not by much, and Alex spent several minutes grumbling and trying to wrap himself up into as small a ball as possible before he noticed the route they were taking. “Wait…” he peered out the window suspiciously, and then back at Willie. “Are you…” Willie did not answer, just kept smiling until they pulled to a stop. “You brought me… here?” Alex squinted at him. “So when you said you had something to show me… you meant your house? Dude, I’ve seen your house.”

Willie laughed, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “Hey, I’m more creative than that,” he defended. “I know, uh-” he shrugged. “I know it’s been kinda hard for you, moving here, making new friends and stuff, and I know you miss California, but… you’ll always have me, you know that, right?”

Alex blinked. “I- yeah. I know.” He shifted to face Willie a little more, frowning slightly. “What’s all this about?” he asked, still slightly wary but mostly warm, full of a content that swelled through his bones.

Willie smiled. It was a touch nervous, Alex noticed, which was odd. Willie was rarely nervous. “Well, just-” he fidgeted for just a moment before jerking his head towards the house. “Come on, let’s go.” Alex followed him up to the front door, mind churning. What the hell kind of twist was Willie pulling this time?

The click of the door shutting echoed loudly. “Are your parents asleep?” he asked, keeping his voice soft in case they were.

Willie fidgeted slightly. “Um… no, not exactly,” he admitted. “Just…” he took a deep breath. “Come with me?” He held out his hand hopefully, and- well, it was Willie. What could Alex do but take it? He led him into the living room and pushed him into the armchair- literally pushed, Alex went tumbling into it and had to right himself with a grumble- before assuming a place in front of him with his arms clutched around himself, rubbing at his own arm with his thumb.

“Hey,” Alex said. He reached up to lay a hand over Willie’s. “Don’t be scared. Whatever this is, it’s okay.”

Willie smiled faintly and twined their fingers together. “That’s the thing,” he said softly. “It’s… you know, it’s always okay with you.” Alex blinked. He went to open his mouth, but Willie cut him off. “Don’t say anything. Please. Not until I finish.” He took a deep breath and squeezed Alex’s hand once before dropping it. “I, William Jarah River Covington,” he began, which was an odd enough beginning to have Alex reeling already, “Hereby swear that I am going to give you, Alexander Inez Mercer, the best fuckin’ Christmas of your entire life. But-” he paused. Took another deep breath. “I also swear,” he started again, his voice shaking a little, “That every year, till you don’t want me to anymore, I’m gonna keep trying to make it the best. And I’m gonna keep trying to make it better. Every single time. I’m gonna figure out your favourite foods and how to make them, and I’m gonna figure out your favourite Christmas songs and find the prettiest versions of them to play, and I’m gonna buy you the best gift I can, and-” his fingers locked together tightly, his eyes bright and insistent on Alex’s even as his vice wavered. “And I’m gonna make it all happen,” he promised, “Because I care about you so, so fucking much, and I’m gonna do it all standing right by your side, holding your hand, and making sure you know that you make everything in my life better. Making sure that you know you’re the best gift I could possibly get.”

Alex’s breath had caught in his chest, thick and stuck and keeping him in place, mouth half open, hands trembling slightly on the arms of the armchair. He let out a little squeaking noise, trying to shift forward, trying to reach out to Willie, but his body refused, still stuck processing.

Willie swallowed hard. “I just want you to know that you can always come to me if you want to come home for Christmas,” he finished quietly, and that was what it took to launch Alex up out of the chair, flinging himself into Willie’s arms.

“I don’t know what to say,” he half-gasped into his neck. “I- God, Willie, I don’t even-”

“Please, just-” Willie pushed him back by the shoulders. “I, uh. You do know how gay I sounded, right?” His voice was spiked with worry. “And you gotta know, like, you gotta know that was intentional.”

Alex reached up to cup Willie’s face. “Willie,” he breathed. “I know. I know. I-” he didn’t get to finish his sentence, because Willie was surging forward, and there they were, kissing at midnight, his hands on Willie’s face and Willie’s chest pressed up against his, and it was clumsy but it was sweet and perfect and full of an adoration Alex had never tasted before. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Willie kissed him again. “Don’t thank me,” he whispered. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

And right now, being held like a treasure, staring into the sun and stars and moon that hovered in Willie’s eyes, standing a room that wasn’t cold or dark or empty, where he was coveted and covered and not alone- yeah. Right now, Alex can believe that pretty damn well.

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

Unloveable

So I was meant to be finished writing till the new year, but after reading @teamsladsandgents​ sexy little Sonny stripper fic this morning it planted this idea and I couldn’t push Nick away cause he needs all the love so here you go. So thanks lovely x

Warnings: SVU crimes, mentions of assault, under cover, guns and of course roughish smut.    

WC: 1877

Enjoy x

Nick seen the unimpressed look on Fin face as he stood at the bottom of the stairs before he seen you bounce down the steps of the 12th precinct and he was glad he was in the squad car alone as he felt himself harden and he groaned looking at you. You had always been an amazing partner and friend. You had been there for him during his divorce on the good and bad days and you had stepped up as an amazing “Aunty” to Zara and Gil. You would look after them at the station even if you had a full load of work yourself and had them on weekends along with Noah if something came in and Liv could do without you so you could watch the kids. You always knew what to say when he needed it and the hugs, touches and soft looks you gave him to defuse him was just what he needed.

He hadn’t thought his feeling for you crossed into something else till tonight. There had been a perp attacking foot patrol uniforms. The perp would stalk partners that one was older and one younger, knocking out the older partner and assaulting the younger one, the attacks had happened twice, with an almost a third. Amanda was out on personal leave, so it was left to you and Fin to go undercover at the 12th to try and catch the perp red handed.

Nick had seen you in multiple outfits over the years, including your pj’s. He had always thought you were beautiful, but when he seen you bounce down the stairs in your full uniform. Your shirt fitting to your body accentuating your breast and your waist. Your pants just tight enough to show off the curves of your ass. Your hair pulled back in a low bun with your hat and your police duty belt around your hips, he had never seen you look so beautiful and it stirred up feelings that he didn’t really let himself admit he had for you till now.

You and Fin had walked a couple of blocks after getting a coffee walking down a dark street, Nick following you guys in the car close behind. You had spoken to Nick over your cuff piece and forgot to turn off the microphone after you finished talking to him,

“Tell me Y/N” Fin looked over at you “You haven’t been with anyone since you started working with us-Why are you single?”

You giggled and took a big sip of coffee emptying the cup,

“The last guy broke my heart. Told me I was unloveable. Guess those words have always stuck with me, I have never gotten over him telling me that” you sighed throwing the cup in the bin.

“Want me to beat him?”

“Thanks Dad but I’ am ok, just doing my thing ya know”

Nick over heard the conversation as he drove down the street passed you guys as you walked and his heart sunk listening to you talk. You had always been there for him with everything when you had been dealing with your own demons all this time. He felt ashamed at how selfish he had been when he was pulled out of his self-pity seeing a guy with a hoodie making his way towards you guys from behind, matching the description you were all given. Nick jumped on his radio signalling Liv and Sonny to move in and he jumped out of the car after throwing it into park running up behind the perp when you heard his voice in your ear piece,

“Turn around and draw your weapon.”

You reached for your gun pulling it out and spun around standing to shield Fin catching the perp holding a metal bar up above his head your gun pointed to him and he went to swing the bar at you.

“Stop Police” Nick ran up behind the perp grabbing his arm knocking the bar out of his hand twisting his wrist behind his back and Sonny and Liv running up behind you. Sonny walked over to Nick to help him cuff the perp then walked him to a squad car throwing him in the back. You were talking to Liv and Fin when Nick walked up and grabbed your shoulder,

“You ok?” Nick looked over you to make sure you weren’t hurt.

“Yeah he didn’t touch me, you got there in time. Thank you.” You smiled at Nick.

“Amaro, take Y/N home. Fin and I will take the questioning. See you guys tomorrow”

“Thanks Liv” you said goodnight to everyone and followed Nick to his car taking off your belt and throwing it in your bag in the back before climbing in the front.

The short drive to you apartment was mostly quite as you took off your hat and pulled out your bun, your hair falling around you in soft waves. Nick tried not to let you notice him watching between you and the road till he seen you pull your shirt of your pants and he moaned slightly adjusting to straighten up in his seat clearing his throat,

“You ok over there?”

“Yeah” Nick gave you his famous grin.

“Thanks for having my back tonight”

“Anytime Y/N, I would never let anything happen to you- You’re too important to me” Nick pulled into a car spot next to your building.

“Come up for a drink?” you grabbed his arm.

You were standing at kitchen bench after pouring two glasses of wine. Nick watched you intently from the stool he was sitting on as you undone your police shirt buttons leaving it hanging to show your black tank top.

“Why didn’t you talk to me about it?” Nick was looking deep into your eyes.

“What are you talking about?” You moved to come and sit on the stool next to Nick.

“You have been hurting all this time and you never talk to me about it” You could see Nick’s face starting to harden “You don’t trust me?”

You grabbed onto his hand and squeezed it as he turned his head slowly to look at you with a small smile on your face,

“Don’t do that, you know that’s not true. I trust you with everything. It happened so long ago- just before I started at SVU. I’ am over it mostly, I didn’t need to talk about it. You had so much more going on”

Nick stood up off his stool grabbing your knees turning you to face him on the stool. He pushed your knees apart so he could stand between them. One hand went to the back of your neck and the other so your chin was between his thumb and pointer finger, his eyes were almost black and you couldn’t read them till you felt his hard length pressing into your clothed core,

“You are so loveable, that asshole didn’t know what he had. You remember that mi entiendes? You get those words out of your head now and I never want you to think of them again, ok?”

“I-“

“Mi entiendes Y/N? I mean it- I’ am going to show you just how loveable you are”

Nick pulled you to him by your neck, his lips moulding with yours so perfectly, and your tongues pushing into each other mouths. You moaned into Nick’s mouth and he smiled into yours pulling back resting his forehead on yours,

“I have wanted-“

“Me too” Nick pecked your lips running his hands over your clothed sides, pulling you into him, you arching your body into his, your arms wrapping around his neck, your legs around his waist. Nick lent forward kissing your neck making his way up to you ear, you pushing your hips into him “First I’ am going to fuck you so good you won’t be able to walk tomorrow and then I’ am going to prove to you how loveable you are.”

You gasp as Nick grabbed hold of your ass picking you up carrying you to your bedroom throwing you on the bed. You sat up ripping off your uniform throwing it on the floor, Nick doing the same standing there naked in front of you. Your eyes racked his solid body down to his hard cock, and your squeezed your legs together your arousal dripping out of you biting your bottom lip.

“I- Wow Nick”

Nick walked to the edge of the bed pushing you down by your shoulders climbing on top of you, his mouth taking a nipple into his mouth sucking it between his lips, then doing the same on the other side. Your fingers threaded into his hair and you moaned arching up into his body moaning.

“Do I turn you on?” Nick’s voice was thick with lust as he licked a strip from the base of your neck up to your ear.

“So- so much” you whimpered as Nick thrusted his hips into your core.

“You are all mine now mi Amor, you will never feel unloveable again”

Your eyes locked with each other’s, your hands moving to cup his cheeks

“You’re all mine?” You said above a whisper “Finally” you scoffed playfully, Nick chuckled lining himself to your core

“Finally mi Amor” Nick kissed your chin “I’ am clean, but are you on anything?”

You nodded “The pill and clean”

Nick growled, grabbing your hands and pinning them above your head, his other hand moving between you both holding himself steady to slide into you. You screamed slightly at how good he felt stretching you. Nick bottomed out leaning down to kiss you deeply his grip on your wrists tightening as he started to roll his hips into you, your legs moving to wrap around his middle bringing your hips up to his hard and fast.

“You’re so beautiful” Nick looked down at you with hooded eyes, your jaw going slack as your release built super fast.

“You make me feel amazing Nick” you moaned when you felt Nick’s thumb on your clit rolling over it.

The room had nothing but heavy breaths, moaning, groaning and skin slapping skin bouncing off the walls. You arched your back slamming your hips up screaming ‘Nick’ almost breathless as your release bolted through you coming hard around him. You kept your hips up as best as you could with your wobbly legs as Nick thrusted into you hard his seed painting your walls grunting your name and Spanish swear words leaving his lips, his back arched back and jaw slack.

Nick finally let go of your arms and you moved them straight away to wrap them around Nick’s neck pulling him in for a deep rough kiss.

“Thank you” you said breathless kissing Nick’s cheek.

“For what?” Nick rolled off you pulling you onto his chest.

“For making me feel wanted, I understand if you don’t want to-”

Nick’s pointer finger moved to your lips to hush you,

“I told you Y/N your mine now, but since you’re a bad girl and didn’t listen to me” Nick rolled you onto your back getting between your legs again feeling him semi hard already “I better fuck you again and show you tomorrow just how loved you are and hopefully it will sink in”    

 Tags: @the-baby-bookworm​ @beccabarba​ @thatesqcrush​ @permanentlydizzy​ @amorestevens

[everybodyscupoftea]

birthday sex

college jj x reader

part 4 of the plug, exactly what it says on the tin

yeehaw baby

gave up on plug titles because the person who requested this gave me permission :)

parts: 1 2 3

(i did keep some gif consistency though)

warnings: cursing, nsfw

You were baking cupcakes when JJ got home from work. He dropped his booksack by the door and walked into the kitchen, hands shoved in his pockets. Not looking up from what you were doing, you asked, “How was work?”

JJ shrugged, “It was alright, normal shift. Minus the extra free drink for my birthday.”

You laughed, “The greatest gift, truly, free caffeine.”

“Would’ve been more fun if you still worked the shift with me.”

With an apologetic shrug, you told him, “Sorry, study group seems more important.”

Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. You hummed in response and tried to keep your focus on pouring the batter into the cups. JJ started rocking the two of you back and forth, and you tried to nudge him away when some of it spilled.

“J,” you whined when he refused to move, “these are for you, don’t make me fuck them up.”

He buried his face in your shoulder and you felt his lips quirk up in a smile. Moving his face for a few seconds, he told you, “Well, I don’t need cupcakes when I have you.”

“Cheesy,” you teased, finally pulling away to put the cupcakes in the oven.

Leaning back against the counter, he gave you a little half smile before saying, “Only for you, baby.”

You walked across the room, pressing both of your hands on his chest and rising up on your toes to kiss him. JJ’s hands came around your back, and he kissed you back happily, leaning back slightly so that you had no choice but to step forward to keep your lips attached to his.

Before you could process, he moved his hands to your hips and spun you around, pressing you into the counter. JJ whispered, “Jump,” between kisses and helped you up onto the counter. You instinctively spread your legs, allowing him to step between them and pull you closer to the edge so you were balanced precariously, mostly counting on him to keep you upright.

When his hand started to wander down your side, you grabbed it and pulled it to your side. JJ groaned a little, pulling away to rest his forehead on your shoulder. Before you could say anything, he whined, “Why not?”

“The cupcakes will burn,” you reminded him, running your fingers through his hair a few times, laughing as he leaned into it.

“Fuck the cupcakes.”

You laughed and pushed his shoulder, “No, I told you, they’re for your birthday.”

“What’s for dinner then?”

“I DoorDash’d po-boys, they’re on the way.”

He groaned, “Okay, that’s worth the wait.”

Just as he finished speaking, there was a knock at the door and you nodded toward it, “Guess someone let him in, you wanna grab that and I’ll get some plates.”

JJ groaned as if he was terribly inconvenienced and pouted at you over his shoulder until he disappeared from the kitchen. You heard him conversing with the delivery girl and grabbed some plates out of the cabinet.

When he got back with the bag, you took it and pulled out the food, arranging them on the plates and then walked around the counter to sit at the bar stools. JJ sat next to you, and the two of you ate in relative silence, his left hand resting on your thigh as some sort of reminder of what was to come that night.

“How about we make a deal,” you offered.

JJ cocked his head to the side, “I’m listening.”

“We’ll do whatever you want while the cupcakes cool. After we finish, I’ll come back and frost them for you.”

Shoving his empty plate to the side, JJ nodded eagerly, “I’m down.”

You giggled, taking the last bite of your po-boy as the timer for the cupcakes went off. He took them out of the oven and grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the bedroom.

When you got there, you were ahead of him and you spun around, pulling him in by his t-shirt to kiss you again. JJ responded eagerly and kept backing you up until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you pulled away, falling back with a gasp.

You moved back, still pulling JJ by his shirt to follow you, and he crawled after you. Knocking the inside of one of his elbows, his arm buckled and he collapsed on top of you. You giggled and he grinned, pressing playful kisses all over your face.

“Got me where you want me, huh sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” you told him playfully before pressing up and twisted, surprising him enough that he flopped over onto his back and you were able to climb on top. Sweeping a strand of hair off his forehead, you leaned down, lips hovering over his, “Now I do.”

JJ chuckled and pulled you down the last few centimeters. His hand wandered up your thigh to the edge of your shirt and started pulling it up. You broke away and he pulled it all the way off, hands immediately coming back to the clasp of your bra to get rid of that too.

You sat all the way up and tugged at his shirt until he got the hint and took it off, tossing it to the floor with yours. When it was gone, JJ reached up and ran his thumb over your nipple, causing you to grind your hips against him, happy when you felt him hard in his pants. You rocked your hips again and he let out a shaky breath, lifting his chin to kiss you.

Pulling away from your lips, he leaned forward and kissed between your breasts, lips trailing to the side to take one of your nipples into his warm mouth, laving his tongue against it with a hum. You ground your lips down again and moved your hands to his hair, holding his head close. He pulled gently, moving to your other breast, his fingers reaching up to replace his mouth on your other nipple while he repeated his ministrations on the other side.

You reached down, rubbing him firmly through his shorts, and he hissed, pulling away. With him distracted, you quickly unbuttoned his shorts and moved your hand into his underwear so you were finally touching him without a barrier.

JJ reached down and tugged your hand away, “You first, sweetheart.”

“But it’s your birthday,” you whined, unhappy.

“So it’s my decision,” he told you, gently pushing your shoulders until you were forced to climb off of him and sit in the middle of the bed.

He sat up and spread your legs, reaching out to help you slide your shorts and underwear down your legs before throwing them the same direction as your shirts. You hissed at the cold air and he moved a hand down, one of his fingers tracing lightly through your wetness before dipping into you.

Your eyes fluttered and you reached down to grip his wrist, holding it tightly while he pumped his finger in and out, reaching with your other hand to start circling your clit at the same speed he was moving. Before you could ask, he added a second finger, the ring on it pressing the edge of your entrance and you groaned loudly.

Finger still circling your clit, you whimpered out, “I’m close.” JJ pulled your hand away and bent down, replacing it with his mouth. His lips closed around your clit, sucking lightly, as his fingers kept moving. Your toes curled and goosebumps rose on your arms as you came, grinding toward his mouth, overwhelmed. He licked you through it, only stopping when you pulled him away by his hair.

JJ sat up, licking his fingers clean with a smirk. You breathed heavily, trying to recover, and shoved him until he fell onto his back. Moving to straddle him, you took his cock into your hand and leaned forward to pepper soft kisses along his jawline. JJ’s hands slid up your thighs and he helped you sit up to put the condom on he’d grabbed out of the nightstand and then lower yourself onto him.

JJ’s face twisted in pleasure and his hands tightened on your thighs as you started to rock once you were fully seated. His rings were cold against your thighs as you rose, easing yourself back down, repeating it several times before he started thrusting his hips to meet yours.

He shut his eyes, brows knitted together and mouth slightly ajar as you put your hands on his chest, using it to balance yourself as you picked up momentum. JJ’s eyes fluttered open at your moan and he reached down, circling your clit with his fingertip again.

“Are you close?” you asked, feeling your own climax getting closer.

“Yeah,” his voice was raspy, “want you to come first though.”

You knew better than to argue and pulled at his wrist to get him to speed up against your clit. Letting go of his wrist, you moved your hands to his shoulders for balance and ground down a few more times before tightening around him and coming, arms giving out.

JJ’s hands went around your back and he thrust a few more times before he was coming with a groan. His body went limp under you and your pressed a kiss to his sweaty forehead.

He chuckled breathlessly, “Happy birthday to me, eh?”

You stroked your fingers across his jaw and he grabbed your hand, linking your fingers together. With a hum, you told him, “Glad you’ve had a good birthday.”

He kissed you with a grin before adding, “Well now that I’ve worked up an appetite, is it time for cupcakes?”

Rising up to let him slide out, you moved off of him with a groan, “How about we clean up and go frost them.”

“Sounds like a plan.”