#but like i really enjoy watching the twitch chat roast him for it

[yappacadaver]

he really just wanted to say "youre safe" like there was no question and we were talking abt something completely different... you want to be a hero so fucking bad....

[dev1lm4n]

coward

pairings: jackson-era!joel miller x f!reader

summary: in which joel wanted to stake claim over you, but he's too much of a coward to do so. aka jealous emotionally pent-up joel

word count: 3.5k

warnings: suggestive, not explicit just mentions of sexual relationships

notes: this was ultimately cliché as shit but i NEED to write it

Clank. Clank.

Sunset has fallen upon the town just mere minutes ago. Gleeful chirping of the local birds were quickly replaced by a chorus of cicadas, loud clattering of metal cutleries, and scratchy scrapes against plates. There was a foreign atmosphere settling between tonight’s dinner participants and to be honest, it’s much weirder than you anticipated.

It’s foreboding; alike to those family dinners you’d attend to exchange bland pleasantries with cousins and nephews. The kind where you’d have to swerve from uncomfortable questions probing into your personal life, whether it’s your marital status or your paycheck. Except there wasn’t that much of a crowd tonight. Just you, your ‘date’, and Joel Miller.

Joel Miller was someone you couldn’t label properly.

You weren’t exaggerating in the slightest bit when it comes to your complex relationship with him, if you could even call what you had with him a relationship to begin with.

It’s just too messy and embarrassing. It’s like trying to pick apart a tangled up ball of yarn, hoping you’d figure out when things began and when it ended.

Has it even ended? The particular question had you mindlessly stabbing the roasted chicken you managed to cook up. It’s a little overcooked and mildly underseasoned, but it’s better than the alternative. Joel’s staple, which was heated up cans of Chef Boyardee’s Beefaroni, had always been reserved for those who’d acquired his unique tastes. You and Ellie were his number one frequenter when it comes to it.

Joel looked displeased by the pleasantries. His nose crinkled briefly, but he played along regardless. “I go on patrols most of the time, but I could fix things too here and there.”

“So.. Joel, right? What do you do ‘round Jackson?”

Jack managed to break up the everlasting silence with his low-register voice. You assumed that despite the initial awkwardness, he had at least enjoyed the food, considering the heaping glob of mashed potatoes he’s adding onto his plate.

“Oh. That’s nice. I’ve never gone on a patrol before,” Jack shared briefly, only to beam a shy smile towards you. He’s a cute boy you won’t lie. Maybe that’s why you scouted him off  the bar last week. “I take care of the horses with her.”

“Jack’s also from Texas, you know. Thought you two would get along,” you opined.

You watched the cocky raise of eyebrows Joel did and the half-smile following after. He’s silently judging the excuse of a man you’ve brought home tonight, that or he’s just not in the mood for a late night chat after such a troublesome day.

Joel had always been an incredibly difficult man to read. You still think you could read a horse better than him. You’ve gotten better at it throughout the years you’ve spent alongside him, especially after the trip around America for Ellie’s sake, but it’s still a hit or miss most times. It almost felt like he kept changing the numbers to the safe. Just when you thought you’ve cracked the code, he’ll have you come right back to square one.

Joel’s mouth twitched at your silly little assumption, his face contorted as if asking you if you’re for real. You shrugged, amused in a sense. It’d be good for him to start making actual friends, right? Right now his circle was a limited bunch with you being the only non-family acquaintance. His social skills were something you and Tommy are both working on these days. Plus, Jack’s easy on the eyes, so it’s two birds in one stone. 

“I see you still have a thing for Texas boys, hm?”

Joel teased you, this time not even bothering to flash you one of his degrading glares. He pretended like he’s really into the colorful medley of roasted root vegetables you’ve roasted, when you know for a fact he hated any kind of greens. He’d only pretend to like it when Ellie’s around, preaching around about its importance. You realized that you’re getting sidetracked from the real offense he’s just given. A jab of jealousy you’d say.

What kind of game is he playing? Was it another one of his ‘push guys away from you because all men are shit and you’d get hurt’ game? Jack was such a sweetheart, he didn’t even catch on to Joel’s implications, instead he settled on laughing alongside your awkward chuckles.

“Friends?”

“How long have you two been friends?”

Jack’s eyes sparked with curiosity, looking like he’s genuinely in awe of the fond illusion you two must’ve convinced him with.

Joel grinned, a corner of his full mouth lifted at the thought. He almost looked pleased at the premise.

“Two years,” you chimed in for a quick save.

“Man, I thought you two were together,” Jack confessed, salad dressing smeared lightly on his top lip. “Can’t say I ain’t happy when she came sizing me up for a date.”

Your gaze cruised back towards Jack, fluttering a sweet smile his way in case he finally caught up to Joel’s inappropriateness. All you saw was just an innocent look of acknowledgement. His cheeks brightened and swept by a soft wave of pink when he noticed you looking his way, appearing to be thrilled that you spared him a chunk of your attention.

Such a sweetheart. It wouldn’t be so bad if you actually got serious with him; move into a small cottage house, raise chickens and sheeps. Then you could finally bask in stability and mutual understanding. The two things you’re currently lacking.

A silent beat passed at his words. 

You humored him with an obscure chuckle, but it was painfully obvious how the atmosphere dimmed and crumpled ever so slightly around the edges. It’s not the first time the two of you were mistaken as a couple by other villagers, even Tommy and his wife were dead set convinced the first time you sauntered in with him. The months spent on the road with Ellie and him were life changing to say the least and you’d like to think the two of you were bonded by such traumatic events. He needed a purpose, you needed refuge. It’s always been like that from the start. 

There wasn’t even a tinge of romance to humor. Once in the past, you made the mistake of giving in to your ‘delusions’. You wondered whether the silent brief touches he made whenever he walked beside you meant something more. You wondered whether the way he reacted exaggeratedly when you prick your fingers on a rotten door frame meant that he cared. You wondered whether the confessions he made while you were curled up, riding out a fever from a stab wound meant that he wanted you. Those pathetic flourishing feelings were stomped by the heavy soles of his boots the one time you asked.

You could still remember vividly the terrible things he said and the way you sobbed your heart out at that. Thinking back, you’d understand why he said what he said. It was wrong of you to humor such thoughts.

Jack hummed fondly into his handkerchief, neatly cleaning up his fresh shaven complexion that always seemed to make him look a few years younger than what he truly is. He’s more of your age, something you took into account when he came up in your radar. That must mean he’s more suitable for you, right? Unlike Joel who’s reeling into his late fifties; who’s probably too old for all the ‘childish’ shit you put him through. Jack’s also kind and considerate. He went out of his way to get you a basket of fresh apples when you’re sweating bullets trying to catch a loose mare. He never scowled or snapped at you. He’s good for you.

“No. We’re just really good friends,” Joel spoke up firmly into the warm summer air.

It looked like he’s finished with his meal, assuming from how squeaky clean his plate has gotten. Good that he’s filling up. You’ve always liked guys with a little more pudge to them. Not that it mattered. You two were just really good friends as he put it.

“I don’t think I can stay friends with a gal so pretty,” Jack chimed in flirtatiously, a charming smile etched its way across his lips.

You smiled in return, making sure to count to three before letting your eyes wander back to where Joel was sitting. It might be wrong for you to be searching for another man’s reaction when you’re here having sweet Jack as your date. What was certainly wrong was how your stomach finally rumbled with nervous butterflies when you saw his expression. When you saw the small itch disrupting his collected expression; setting his lips into an unimpressed thin line, a small vein prominent on his neck.

God, you wish you could capture the moment on camera.

The rest of the evening went by civilly; you’d expect your really good friend to rip Jack’s head right off when he kept making those stupid flirtatious jokes. Joel looked like he was trying his best to stay grounded and rational, but it's no secret he's holding back a dirty scowl. You caught the way he stuck his tongue onto his inner cheek, or the way he scrutinized each and every joke your date made. Forcing him to explain it thoroughly and embarrassing him in the process; you know he’s an ass, but tonight he’s really testing your limits.

You’d imagine he’d have an excuse as to why he’s behaving this way, like how your veggies tasted weirdly bland he couldn’t hold back his face. It’s unbelievably silly how he thought you’d believe such things at your grown age. That’s another thing to deal with. 

At the moment, you just needed to focus on bidding Jack a sweet goodbye. His smooth blond hair glimmered underneath the moonlight as he leaned in for a kiss. One you didn’t expect quite yet, but you didn’t have the heart to push him away. He’s been a good company after all.

As you expected, it didn’t feel right. His lips were soft and tasted like fresh oranges, but it didn’t feel right. Was it a mistake to keep him at bay when you’re still unable to let go of your peculiar crush? Probably. You were deep in thought as you pulled the front door closed. A gust of wind blowing over your shoulder while you let the guilt marinate into every inch of your skin. 

You felt icky.

“I don’t like him.”

Joel’s disdain traveled quickly along the walls, down the hallway, and onto the exact spot where you’re standing. You turned on your heel to face him, your lips drew back in a snarl. After everything you went through tonight, all the pillow cushioning so that Jake doesn’t feel all the more offended by his audacity, and you’re rewarded with this? You expected him to do one thing and he couldn’t even make it right.

“Yeah?” you piped up, eager to rile him up. “Well, I like him a lot.”

He’s used to listening to your childish preambles. It didn’t take him long to learn how much fun you have just by disobeying his rules, going through with whatever your heart desires, even when it poses a great danger to your own safety. You’re always tricky to deal with, but it’s the only thing that keeps his heart pounding at his old age. The only thing that made him feel alive, thawed after years of surviving. Maybe that’s why he still persisted in keeping you around.

“I’m serious, sweetheart. He sounded like bad news.”

Fucking sweetheart? You scoffed, sounding offended. He would always use that nickname whenever he’s trying to get something through your thick head, whether it’s to stop you from jumping head first into a pond or in this case, to stop you from making rash decisions. He knew what he does to you. He knew that you’d always listen, but not tonight.

“If you spend just one second of your precious time listening to what he has to say, you might actually see what I see,” you glowered. “You were fucking with him the entire time.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You were looking down at him, Joel. You always do that. Think everyone’s beneath you.”

“I wasn’t. He’s just a little.. well, flimsy for you.”

“Oh fuck off. You don’t know a thing about me.”

That was a complete lie. He knew more things about you than you’d like, like the way you like your coffee in the morning and which horses were your favorite.

“I don’t?”

“You don’t.”

You solidified your answer, trudging your way past his shoulders like some agitated teenager. Joel thought you looked cute upset and maybe that’s sick of him, but he couldn’t help but be entertained at the way your lips jutted out in disagreement. You’re like this young new thing he’s obsessed with.

“Okay, okay. Come here. Don’t be upset at me. Jake is a nice boy.. I guess,” he gave in to the commotion you made, although he still felt somewhat bitter. 

Jake’s not that much different from what he’s like when he’s younger. Way before his kid, his botched marriage, and the apocalypse. When he’s twenty with a vision for life. It vexed him to admit that he was truly a good man for you. That the man you chose for once wasn’t a scheming jackass. “He worked with horses?”

“Yeah,” you gave in, flashing him the look. The one where you’re further emphasizing that you’re certain with your decisions, that you don’t need him guiding you towards what’s wrong and right like he always has. “He’s good with the horses.. and with me too. Gave me apples when it’s in season.”

Joel’s dark eyebrows curved at your statement. His arms lifted further up to rest against the thin of his waist, a judgemental stance in action. Did you think things like that were peak romance? What about all the times he personally executed all those clickers lurking over you? Whether it’s with a gun or a knife, he’s sure that he’d top Jack when it comes to things he did for you.

“Well then I’m happy for you,” he concluded with a curt nod, doing the one thing you didn’t expect him to do. You scrutinized his expression in response.

“You’re happy for me?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m gonna go on a date with him.”

“Go ahead.”

“I’m gonna get him to kiss me again.”

“Wow. Sounds fun.”

“I’m gonna get him to fuck me so hard you could hear me in your stupid room, Joel.”

That one surely struck a nerve deep within him, judging from the way his lips contorted in disbelief. You’ve never been so.. vulgar in front of him. Not once have you mentioned anything about your sexual desires in front of him and so he thought you didn’t even know those kinds of things existed despite your big age. 

Maybe you’re untouched by the twisted world you’re living in. He assumed you were this sweet girl with an innocent crush on him, eyes twinkling with admiration everytime he walked in a room. He loved the attention, shamefully so, and he’d love to savor it as long as possible. Even when it felt wrong. He didn’t think it was possible for you to look at another in that manner. The thought had him marching towards you, large figure towering over.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart.”

“Why not?” you challenged him.

“Because you’re doing this for attention.”

“I’m not,” you struggle to keep the act upright.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you actually like him. Tell me you like that silly boy.”

You gaped at his request. Adam’s apple bobbing reluctantly as you gathered every last bit of your plummeting confidence to look up into his eyes. They were arrogant; browns peering down at you like he’s just delighted to domineer, to reassert the magnitude of his influence towards you. He caged you in with merely a look. 

This spited you. He’s always been like this. Give you some room to explore so that you don’t feel trapped with him, but he’d always give a little tug to your leash whenever you forget your position. You were his, before he was yours. That was rule number one.

“I like him,” you repeated yourself, bracing for the onslaught of tsunami he might release at your stubbornness. “He’s kind and sweet and lovely and.. and he has the balls to tell me how he felt about me.”

His expression of disapproval seared through your skin, leaving you raw and vulnerable to whatever it is he’s going to say right back at you. You could tell that he was livid, although he's clearly trying his best to be the better man out of the two of you and stay grounded. 

He knew what you're like. He knew that you're riling him up so that he'd cave in to your requests, because God was it terribly hard to stay put when you're looking at him like that. Round pupils bared into his own. Joel felt the revolting urge to soothe your worries, to utter meaningless words of assurance, to validate the bond he's been trying his best to suspend. His desire festered like it was contagious, blurring the line of boundaries.

“If this is about last week, you know my answers remained unchanged.”

"Why?"

You sounded hopeless and it's clawing at his skin.

"It's unfair to you."

"You know what's unfair, Joel? Acting like you gave a damn, then shutting me out of your life like I meant nothing."

You scoffed. You weren't just desperate for an answer now, no, you were furious. Angry that he thought he could make the decisions for you, that he could be the one to determine which things were right and wrong for you when he knew for a fact that you're a grown woman with your own mind to rely on. Angry that he'd put his self worth in the gutter. Angry that he thought you'd judge him even after the things you've been through together; endless drives through the motherland, camping under a sea of stars, dancing with death itself.

Was it that bizarre of an idea? You plucked up the courage to get even closer. The frilly yellow ruffles of your sundress grazing his crossed forearm.

You poked an accusing finger into his chest.

"Drowning yourself in your pathetic pity party because oh, you're so broken. So undeserving of love."

Your furrowed eyebrows drove him insane.

"Yet you still keep me around. Couldn’t push me away because God knows you need me more than you'd like."

Your labored breath teased the column of his neck.

"That's what's unfair. The fucking waiting. The dancing around. Put me out of my misery, Joel."

He didn't know what to say. Silenced for once.

"Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want me."

You dared him, just like how he dared you. Joel felt conflicted. His vision glued onto the tips of his worn down leather boots as if it’d provide some kind of answer to your demands, He inhaled sharply, before letting out a shaky sigh. Afraid that he’d promise you something he couldn’t own up to, especially since his sharp edges are now dulled from age. 

Joel couldn’t be selfish. No, he couldn’t be that person any longer when he has one foot in the grave.

He knew his end was approaching.

Subtly, but surely. His heart tightened sporadically every time he’d run a little too fast. His joints were stiff and useless, enough that Tommy threatened to pull him off patrols if he kept pushing at his pace. He recalled the incident from his last trip. How he barely escaped a loose infected because his senses had dampened. Your voice also seemed to become more and more faint; he couldn’t even hear the list of items you’ve burdened him with on a shopping trip. Whether you needed a jar of raisins or a pair of shears.

Claiming you was selfish.

He decided on that awhile ago. Far before you’ve realized your infatuation with him, far before you offer such a sweet proposition. 

“Come back to me when you stop being a fucking coward, Joel.”

His throat grew parched at the buzzing silence. He willed himself to touch you, even when it burned his finger tips and sizzled the tip of his ears red. You looked furious, but that cute expression faltered in a miniscule of a second when he cupped the side of your cheek. His thumb stroked agonizingly slow as if you'd evaporate into thin air if he was too brash.

He'd always thought you’re beautiful. One of a kind. Whether it’s when you’re drooling embarrassingly or when you’re dressed up for the commune’s party. But you look the most unbelievable when you’re worried for him.

Was that selfish of him? He traced over your bottom lip gently, feeling the plush material underneath. How he longed to press his lips onto yours. Would it taste sweet? Would you feel soft? His bottom lip quivered, unable to form an answer.

[heresthestorymorningglory]

This Must Be The Place

Summary: Lars is ready for more

A/N: This came about after talking with my darling partner in crime <3

Lars x afab reader <3

As per usual, (Yep Lars crossed into that territory) it's NSFW 18+ @ken-dom as always my darling, I thank you for your support and inspiration and late night chats.

Enjoy my loves <3

His heart slammed hard in his chest, but this was nothing new, you had been on plenty of dates together.

But this one was special, he reasoned, this one had to be perfect. 

It was your six month anniversary; your fanciest dress, he had said when you asked him what to wear. This wasn’t going to be your typical Saturday night date at the bowling alley; he wanted it to be more, he wanted it to be special because you were special. 

He let out a heavy breath as he finished tying his tie; your favourite tie, and glanced at the clock. Six forty five, you would be here in fifteen minutes. 

Karin had helped him make a nice dinner; roast and potatoes and carrots. Karin had said a nice red wine would go well with it, but Lars had opted for soda instead, because you didn’t drink. 

He lit both candles on the table as there was a soft knock on the door. 

You were early. 

He gave his outfit a quick once over; his three piece suit and his smartest shoes; his hair combed perfectly. He picked up the small bouquet of daisies; all different colours because the white ones were too plain. You were anything but plain.

He swallowed hard before opening the door and his face immediately broke into a grin seeing you. 

“Hi” you smiled and his heart skipped a beat. 

He nodded holding out the flowers “These are for you,” he spoke softly “H-happy anniversary”

You took them, craning your neck slightly to kiss his cheek. The familiar spark stirring in the pit of his stomach like it always did whenever you touched him. It didn't hurt anymore, not like before; now it was quite the opposite, it excited him. It excited him in a way he wasn’t really sure how to explain, not without making you uncomfortable he feared and that was the last thing he had wanted to do. 

He closed the door behind you and helped you off with your jacket, hanging it on the hook next to his. He turned to face you and let out an audible gasp, he hadn’t meant to, but you…you looked….sexy. His cheeks burned hot at even considering such a word to describe you.

You had on a pair of simple black heels, and your dress had a long slit up the thigh, and tied around your neck, but left your back bare. He bit down on his lip gently before clearing his throat. 

You smirked to yourself as he dropped his gaze, forcing himself to look anywhere but down the front of your dress. 

“A-are you hungry?” he stammered, and you chuckled softly noticing he was no longer making eye contact with you in any way shape or form, his eyes fixed firmly on his own shoes. “I made dinner” 

He cautioned a glance back up at you and you were smiling. “Ravenous” 

He squeezed his eyes shut with a nod and motioned to the table; his hand hovering over the small of your back, but not touching your bare skin…although he wanted to…and his cock twitched in his suit pants as a reminder of the fact. 

The deep blush had settled permanently in his cheeks as he pulled out your chair for you to sit. You thanked him before putting your napkin in your lap, watching him sit across from you. 

The candles cast a soft shadow on his face, but you weren’t oblivious to the fact that he was still blushing. You couldn’t resist teasing him, if only just a little

“You look warm, Lars” you spoke softly as you picked up your utensils “Are you alright?” 

He nodded a bit too quickly and you pretended not to notice that his eyes were fixed squarely down the front of your dress. 

“You can take off your jacket sweetheart, it’s just us here” 

Almost immediately he shrugged it off, turning to hang it on the back of his chair before looking back at you. “You look beautiful” 

Your own cheeks flushed a light pink, almost feeling guilty for scheming to get the exact reaction out of him with your outfit of choice. “Thank you” 

You ate in relative silence, knowing Lars was struggling to find words. Usually you had let him take the lead with these kinds of things, but tonight you were feeling brazen and you wanted nothing more than to get him worked up and he was well on his way. 

You put your fork down next to your empty plate and bit your lips together. “What’s for dessert?” 

His face fell slightly as he looked at you across the table “I’m sorry I didn’t…I didn’t make anything for dessert” 

“I could think of something” you tilted your head slightly as you slipped your foot from inside one of your shoes under the table, sliding your bare foot slowly up the inside of his pant leg. 

He shifted almost immediately in his chair, clearing his throat. Not to avoid your touch but a feeble attempt to collect himself. His head was spinning with so many thoughts at once he didn’t know where to land. Had you wanted to be…intimate?

His hand found the back of his neck where he rubbed the hot skin under his fingertips. 

“I…um..” he cleared his throat and tried again, very aware of your toes still teasing at his ankle “What…what’s that?” 

He fought hard to keep his composure, but he knew you were too smart not to notice him coming unraveled. In any other circumstance, he would just go outside, out to the wood pile and blow off some steam, but he couldn’t, not tonight…and if he was being completely honest with himself…he didn’t want to. 

The touch of your bare toes against his bare skin just above his sock, sent sparks though his entire body, making his cock push more earnestly against the confines of his already snug pants. 

“Can I show you?” You asked softly, slipping your other foot free from your heel. 

He nodded and his stomach instantly filled with butterflies as you pushed yourself back from the small table. He frowned, but watched curiously as you sank to your knees and crawled across the floor under the table. 

He jumped slightly when your hands landed on either one of his knees, pushing them apart gently, the erection tenting his pants was hard to miss, it made your whole body flush with an intense heat. 

You slid your hands slowly up either one of his thighs, you could feel his eyes fixed on you before you looked up to meet them, your fingers coming to rest on the button of his pants. 

“May I?” You asked, still mindful of his aversion to touch…even though he had gotten better, you realized this may be too much. 

You waited, knelt under the small table as he took in a shaky breath, but to your surprise he nodded slowly. 

“If you change your mind, you say so, okay?” Although you said the words, and you meant them, you hoped with every fibre of your being, he wouldn’t. 

“Okay” It was barely a whisper of an answer, his eyes trained on your painted fingernails, paused, waiting for his consent. 

You popped open the button and heard his breath catch in his throat above you. 

Running your tongue between your lips you tugged gently, moving his pants out of the way, a smile crept across your lips, noticing the wet patch in Lars’ underwear. 

Leaning forward, you paused as your mouth hovered over the bulge still concealed behind fabric. 

Lars whimpered feeling the heat of your breath against his most sensitive places. That small patch of precum grew bigger by the second as he felt his cock leak more. 

His entire body flushed with arousal, for the first time in his life he wanted to be touched, needed it. 

As if you had read his mind…you were always really good at that…

He watched as you peeled back the thin fabric of his underwear, his cock springing free, hard and throbbing. He let out an almost relieved sigh. 

Your fingers curled around his thick shaft, eliciting a needy moan in the back of his throat as another thick drop of precum forming from the tip.  

He gasped and your eyes met his briefly before you dipped your head, running your tongue slowly over the head of his cock, desperate to taste him. Both of you, somewhat oblivious to how badly the other wanted it. 

Lars shivered at the completely alien sensation, one of his large hands finding its way into your hair, the other, braced on the table. 

“M-more” he breathed “P-p-please”

He could barely form the words, his head foggy with desire, but it didn't seem to matter, you obliged just as he'd asked. 

He squeezed his eyes shut before watching your perfect lips engulf the entire top half of his length. 

Mindful not to kick you underneath the table, he dug his heel into the floor, his mind swimming with pleasure as he moaned over you, his grip on both your hair and the table growing tighter. 

His heart pounded so hard in his chest he wondered for a moment if it would burst through like in the old cartoons.  

Your tongue slid up the underside of his length and he almost lost his composure, he threw his head back, bucking his hips forward, unintentionally forcing himself further down your throat. 

The head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, making you choke slightly. You moaned around him, sucking harder, the fact that he was too big to fit comfortably in your mouth, making you squeeze your thighs together in vain as your arousal became evident, soaking your own underwear.

“I'm…I-” Lars gasped, the dishes on the table rattling as he gripped harder. “Mmmf” his teeth nearly biting clean through his bottom lip before he threw his head back and cried out, the fingers in your hair, twisted and pulling hard unintentionally, only making you moan around his shaft before you felt his hot, thick release fill your mouth. 

You managed to swallow most of it, not expecting as much as he had to give, the remainder spilling from between your lips, and coating the part of him too big to fit in your mouth.

You let him slide from your mouth with a wet pop. He shivered as you licked and sucked him clean, your own core throbbing with need as he pushed back from the table, enough for you to crawl out from underneath and slip into his lap, his cock slowly softening between you as you sat on his knee, his hand holding you there as you teased your fingers through his dirty blond hair. 

You let him catch his breath before he spoke. 

“Can I…” he paused, considering his words “Have a turn?”

You made a small noise in the back of your throat with a smirk; your core throbbing with need as you sat in his lap. 

“It’s only fair” he reasoned; unable to keep the smile off his face at the thought. 

You had talked things through with him before; when he had felt brave enough to ask you about such things. You were better at explaining it than Gus had been…but he hadn’t been ready then. He was ready now…he thought. 

He leaned forward to kiss you and stopped just before your lips met, his blue eyes meeting yours. “Can I?” he asked softly

You smiled with a nod barely able to get your “Yes” out before his lips crushed against yours. 

Usually his kisses were slow and timid; this time there was so much force behind it, it nearly knocked you over

Your breath caught in your throat as you pushed him back gently; your cheeks flushed with heat; the small apartment suddenly felt very warm. 

“I thought…” his face fell as he searched yours “I thought you wanted…” 

“Oh, Lars I-” you swallowed hard trying to keep your own composure and not send him running in the other direction. “I did, I do” you tried to find the words to reassure him “Just…take a second, take a breath” you spoke softly, your fingers pushing through his hair “Are you sure this is what you want; are you sure you’re ready because we-”

“I’m sure” he interrupted with a confident nod. 

Before you could respond he got to his feet, but didn’t move toward the bed like you had expected. Instead, he blew out the candles, his arm around your waist, holding you firmly against him. You jumped when his free hand swept the table clean, sending the dirty dinner dishes crashing to the floor.

“Lars!” you couldn’t help laughing at the mess on the floor before in one swift movement he lifted you on the now bare table, his mouth once again devouring yours. 

He stood between your spread legs, one of his hands on the small of your back, the other sliding up your thigh as he hooked your leg around his waist. His new found confidence sending you reeling as his weight pushed you back further on the table. 

Your arms found their way around his neck as he broke your kiss, opting to suck and nip along the length of your neck instead. 

You closed your eyes, it was your turn to be overwhelmed with sensations. You had thought and dreamed of this moment so many times over the last six months…even before. You weren’t convinced it wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. 

He was ravenous, completely oblivious to anything that wasn’t you in the moment. 

Warm fingers on the back of your neck, loosened the bow, holding your dress up; the fabric falling loose around your front before Lars pulled it away, leaving you exposed. 

He tugged your dress off the rest of the way, leaving it in a crumpled pile at his feet. Your chest heaving as you tried hard to get a grip on your own arousal surging through your body at an impossibly fast rate. 

Your arms slipped from around his neck as he sank to his knees on the floor, pulling you to the edge of the table. 

His hands pushed your knees apart, just as you had done with his moments before. Your heart thudding in your chest with anticipation as he inched closer to your core. 

Legs draped over his broad shoulders, you shivered as his warm breath crept up the inside of your thigh, the tip of his nose brushing against the lace of the panties you still wore, making you gasp and fist the table cloth underneath you. 

“God, Lars” you breathed, mindful not to crush his head between your thighs. 

He looked up at you from between your legs; his eyes dark with lust. “May I?” 

“Yes, God,” you whined; desperate to feel more “Please” 

Thick fingers curled around the dainty waistband before tugging them off gently and letting them drop to the floor. 

You were so wet. He knew that’s how this worked, he had watched movies before…but this was different, this was for him, you were wet for him. The thought made his cock grow hard between his legs and he let out a moan as another thought occurred to him. What did you taste like?

Again, he dropped his head, but this time he ran his tongue between your slick folds; you lurched forward, arching your back off the table as you let out a strangled cry; your fists clenching the pristine white table cloth tightly. 

“Holy fu-” You squeezed your eyes shut tightly; your whole body felt like it would burst into flames at any second. 

Lars was completely unfazed, devouring you like you were the best thing he had ever let touch his tastebuds. 

And you were… 

He pulled you closer, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips so hard they would leave bruises; Lars completely unaware of his own strength He sucked, and licked and moaned against your core as you writhed over him. His cock leaking with his own pleasure, hearing what he  was doing to you. 

Then as fast as he was there, he was gone, but before you had a chance to complain, his weight was on top of you, his mouth on yours, his tongue pushing between your lips as he kissed you feverishly. You moaned against his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue as his hard cock pressed against the inside of your thigh.

He pulled back to catch his breath, his lips red and kiss swollen; mustache damp with your slick. He searched your face, catching his breath; you looked so beautiful; flushed, breathless and naked…just for him…

He watched as you bit your lip with a whine as his fingers ghosted over your dripping folds; feeling you shudder underneath him. 

“Can I…Can we…” he stammered breathlessly struggling to find the words; thankful when you simply nodded. You always understood.

He repositioned himself, the head of his cock pushing inside you, he watched you, as your eyes fluttered closed, you grit your teeth and he frowned slightly, wondering if he was hurting you,but you hadn’t told him to stop. Quite the opposite, you pulled him closer, your tight heat engulfing his entire length, your moans mingling with his as your lips found his again. 

He thrust his hips, slowly at first, the small table groaning under the weight of both of you on it’s top. 

You pried your lips from his, taking a much needed breath as he thrust harder, moving his hips faster, your legs locked around his waist. He buried his head in the crook of your neck moaning low in the back of his throat as you moaned loud towards the ceiling. 

His large hand collapsed over your mouth as his breath was hot and heavy next to your ear.

“Shhh, they’ll hear you” 

You breathed heavily through your nose as his hand stayed firmly in place; your moans muffled underneath You sounded desperate and needy, and you were. The entire table shifted under your weight as he thrust harder; his own desperate moans loud next to your ear. He was close. 

Something in him flipped like a switch; his primal urge taking over as he buried himself deep inside you, the delicious burn between your thighs of being stretched almost too far as skin slapped skin, his hand still heavy over your mouth as he grunted with the last of his effort, spilling hot and thick inside you as your fingernails sank into the flesh of his shoulders through his dress shirt as your orgasm tore through you from your core. 

He dropped his hand from your mouth, his weight landing heavy on top of you. He was almost still completely dressed; pants gathered around his ankles, shirt buttons undone, tie hanging loosely around his neck, his hair no longer neatly combed. 

You pushed his hair back away from his face with a smile as you felt him slip from inside you.  

“Are you okay?” he asked, softly “I- I didn’t hurt you?” 

You shook your head with a small laugh; pulling him closer to kiss him gently “No sweetheart; not even a little bit” 

He smiled, leaning his forehead against yours as he pulled you to sit up, his hands cupping your face. “Can we do it again?” he asked, his lips pressing against yours before you had a chance to answer. 

[angryschnauzer]

Pitching Tents

Summary: Ooof... *insert breathless spongebob meme here* Okay, so your co-stars Chris and Henry invite you along for a long weekend camping trip, and in the wilds of nature they let their inhibitions be set free.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Female Reader x Henry Cavill (MFM)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Oral Sex (female receiving), Oral Sex (male receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, threesome, spit roasts, fingering, grinding, handjobs, vaginal creampie, sloppy seconds, cockwarming, sex outdoors, anal sex, unprotected anal sex, anal creampie, anal sloppy seconds, degrading talk, zero inhibitions, no refractory period, aftercare, crack fic, utter filth, you. have. been. warned., and the worlds best camping table.

Only the finest free range, organic typos, allowed to run wild and free.

I do not run a tag list, but if you follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, you will get an alert every time i post something new. Masterlist got too big for tumblr, so past works can also be found at angryschnauzerwrites or on my AO3.

A/N: Don’t @ me yelling about RPF. This is utter fantasy. You know that, i know that. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. However i do feel i have included enough of each actor to satisfy both sets of fans. Enjoy the filth you dirty sluts.

Pitching Tents

Sitting in the dressing room having your makeup removed you laughed and joked with Chris and Henry, your co-stars. Finally you were prosthetic free and your FX makeup artist left, leaving you to listen as the two men chatted away;

“So all set for our camping trip this weekend Chris?” Henry asked as he wiped off fake blood from his cheek

“Can’t fucking wait Henry, three whole days of beers, fishing, and doing fuck all” Chris turned to you and smiled; “So, whata’ you doin this weekend?”

Sighing you took a sip of water;

“Probably just bingeing Netflix with a family sized bag of chocolate”

“Why don’t you come camping with us?” 

Henry suggested lightly, and at his suggestion your head snapped up;

“Really? I’ve never camped in my life! I’ll just cramp your style for your boys weekend. I’ve never even pitched a tent”

“Oh don’t worry, me and Hen have got all the equipment you could need for that” Chris assured you, but you missed the sly wink he shot to Henry.

-

The campsite was beautiful. On private land it was amazing what being one of Hollywoods biggest stars could get you into, and as Chris had pulled his truck over the gravel both you and Henry were impressed with the stunning location. You’d had little to do as they put the tent up, and as the sun had started to set the beers had been cracked open and the campfire glowed. Whether it was the fresh air, the beer, or the busy work schedule you all had, you were turning in just as the sun had fully set. Curling up underneath the pile of blankets and quilts that’d been thrown on the air mattress, you were quickly fast asleep before either of the men had climbed in beside you.

-

The bright morning sunlight shone in through the thin fabric of the tent waking you, and as you pulled yourself from sleep you smiled at the two men seemingly still fast asleep either side of you. As much as you wanted to stay in the warmth of the blankets you needed to pee, so carefully and silently you pulled yourself out of the cocoon and slipped a discarded flannel shirt on, unsure if it was Henry’s or Chris’s, either way it swamped you and covered your panties and cami you’d worn to sleep in.

As soon as they’d heard the zipper of the tent close Chris had cracked an eye open to glance at Henry, a smirk on his face as he was greeted with an identical grin.

“Do you think she’ll go for it?” Chris whispered

“Yeah, you’ve seen her eyeing each of us, i think she’ll be up for some fun”

“You ready?”

“Dude, i have woken up with the biggest morning wood” Henry grinned

“Me too… so how’re we gonna do this?”

“I’m thinking the sleepy roll and cuddlespoon method ”

“Yeah that’ll work” Chris paused as he heard your heavy footfalls approaching the tent, winking at Henry before the two of them feigned sleep.

With your teeth chattering from the chilly morning air you reluctantly pulled the flannel shirt off before silently sliding back under the blankets, shivering as your body attempted to warm up until suddenly a warm chest pressed to your back and a heavy arm was draped over your waist. Your eyes sprang open and breath caught in your throat as you processed Henry spooning behind you, quiet snores coming from his lips. Before you could think any more on what the man behind you was doing, Chris let out a sleepy sigh and rolled towards you, his face resting on your chest as his legs pressed against your own. With your lower limbs crushed between both mens you shifted a little, lifting one leg slightly only for Chris to hum in appreciation as his hand rested on your thigh and lifted your knee over his hip.

For just a few minutes as the shock and tension had subsided you relaxed into the warmth of being sandwiched between them, but as the temperature started to rise under the blankets you shifted and started to wriggle, and that’s when you felt the first one. The first nudge as Chris pressed himself to your core and you could feel what the internet had lost their collective minds for. A rush of breath left your body as you fought the dilemma between a friend unknowingly grinding against you with the feeling of just how good it felt. With just the thin cotton of your panties and his boxers separating your bodies, you screwed your eyes shut and ignored the guilty feelings for just a moment as Chris rubbed his impressive hard on the length of your slit. When one particular rub grazed against your clit you let out a gasp and without realising arched your back, pushing your ass into Henry and discovering he was having the same bodily issue Chris was. A sleepy murmur greeted you as Henry’s hot breath danced on your ear, before he pressed closer and you felt his fat dick rut into the crease of your ass.

Was either man aware of what the other was doing? Should you say something? As these thoughts plagued your mind they were interrupted as two pairs of lips started to find their way around your body, Henry softly kissing your neck as Chris hooked one finger into the neckline of your cami to allow him to gently suck a hardened nipple into his mouth.

“Oh fuck…”

Two sleepy ‘hmm’s replied, bodies starting to move in unison as they all sought friction, and when you felt Henry’s warm palm smooth over your thigh and ass you let out a groan as he dipped his hand between your legs from behind and his fingers found their way beneath the elastic of your underwear;

“Chris, she’s fucking soaked”

“Lemme feel…”

Suddenly another hand slid down your stomach and the front of your panties, an appreciative moan rumbling from the Bostonian’s chest as he used your slick juices to coat his finger before rubbing circles again your clit;

“So she is… that’s good, gonna need to be real wet for us Babe… Hen, how many fingers you got in her?”

“Two at the moment” the Brit said as he pumped those two thick digits into your velvet cavern; “She’s so fucking tight…”

“Give her another one, need to get her ready”

You felt Henry pull his hand out before adjusting his fingers, only to feel the delicious stretch and burn as he carefully inserted three of his thick digits into your tight entrance;

“You ready?” he asked Chris as he worked his fingers in and out of you, and with a fluid movement Henry had pulled his fingers from you and your panties down your thighs. Chris’s hands were on your hips, lifting you to straddle his waist before he pulled his boxers down and positioned his dripping cock at your entrance, waiting for you to take the final step.

With your fingers splayed against the hard plains of his chest you sank down on him, feeling the wide head of his cock split your walls apart, the stretch almost too much despite Henry’s fingers working you open just seconds before;

“Oh fuck… Chris…”

“That’s it Babe, ride me, let me feel you fuck yourself on my cock”

Letting your head fall back you closed your eyes as you started to ride Chris, lost in the moment until you heard the sound of Henry spitting on his hand. Looking over you saw how he had pushed the blankets back and was now fisting his angry red dick, watching you ride his friend. Whilst continuing to ride Chris you reached for Henry who wriggled close enough that you could wrap your hand around his hot shaft. He sat up and kissed you, his tongue pushing into your mouth and dancing against your own before he sat back with a contented sigh just as Chris started to fuck up into you;

“Feel so fucking good Babe”

“Chris… oh my god…”

“Gonna fill you up with my cum, wanna see it dripping out of you before it’s Henry’s turn”

At the mention of his name Henry grunted, licking his lips;

“Mmm sloppy seconds… gonna need it to fit me in that tight pussy”

As Chris’s thrusts started to get sloppy you rubbed at your clit, your orgasm washing over you before you felt Chris push his hips up and stutter, the twitching of his dick deep inside you prolonging your orgasm.

Only vaguely aware of Henry moving behind you, it was when his strong hands grasped your hips and lifted you off of Chris did you let out a squeal of surprise, before he set you down on your hands and knees and ran a thumb through your folds;

“Chris, you gotta see this”

With a groan Chris moved, looking at his thick white seed dripping from you before he settled back down beside you, arms behind his head. 

Henry pressed his hand to your shoulders, pushing you down as he settled behind you, swiping the bulbous crown of his fat dick through your come soaked lips. You felt that notch as he lined himself up, and with a grunt he slowly pushed into you. 

“Oh fuck…” Henry cursed; “From the way Chris fucked you i thought you’d be loose, but fucking hell you’re tight…”

You were panting with the overwhelming feeling of being stuffed full by Henry, your words punctuated by breaths;

“You’re… the… one… hung… like… a… fucking… horse… OH FUCKING HELL… SO GOOD”

Where Chris had length and an impressive curve, Henry had girth and a lot of it, the sucking sound of him plugging your pussy from behind filling the tent and audible over your yelps and moans. 

“Love it when a girl is loud” Henry grunted from behind you, his hips digging roughly into your his as he punctuated each smooth thrust with a hard and deep halt, before doing it again. In front of you Chris moved, swinging one leg over your shoulders until your face was inches from his crotch and you felt his knuckle underneath your chin;

“Open up Babe”

Looking up you took in the sight of Chris sitting in front of you, his chest patterned with tattoos and coarse hair, his stomach firm yet soft now he no longer had to push his body to the limits of dehydration for Marvel. His dick was hardening as he watched Henry defile your body, and as he cupped your chin he guided your mouth open, gasping as your tongue and lips sucked on the mushroom head. 

Just then Henry started to thrust in harder, his hips harsh as they snapped back and forth and you were reminded that even though he was 250lbs of solid muscle he had the grace of a ballet dancer with his agility. With each push it sent you forwards to take just a little more of Chris into your mouth, before both men were grunting as they spit roasted you like a spit roasted pig at a county fair.

Your senses were overwhelmed, from touch to taste to smell to sound, the atmosphere in the tent was overwhelming and your mind could barely process it through the pleasure that was coursing through your veins. Henry was pulling a fierce orgasm from you and fucking you straight through it, Chris getting close as he cupped his balls and with a groan unloaded thick streams of cum into your mouth. You swallowed what you could but there was so much some dripping down your chin with a steady trail of spit. 

As Chris slipped out of your mouth Henry also pulled out, his strong arms flipping you over until he was on top of you, his mouth catching your own for a fierce kiss, no doubt able to taste Chris on your tongue but he was unbothered by that as he speared your body again. He widened his stance, his legs wide on the mattress as he ground his length into you, and you were completely surrounded by him as his teeth found your neck and he found your pressure points;

“That’s is Darling, let me feel you fall apart for me… felt so good squeezing my cock just a few moments ago, you can do it again, you feel so good…” he praised you as his hips worked serpent like magic between your thighs, the slow grind and push of his pelvic bone against your clit making you roar as your orgasm coursed through your body. You were thankful that the peak of your orgasm had passed when Henry finally reached his peak as to watch the man come undone was a sight of beauty; head thrown back, his mouth open as he let out a groan-come-howl, and you felt the violent spurts of him filling your womb with his cum.

When he was finally spent he bent down and kissed you, tongues and teeth before with a groan he pulled out and rolled to your side;

“You were amazing Darling”

“She was… and is” Chris added as he rolled towards you a kissed you softly, his beard tickling your face and making you smile; “I don’t know about you guys but i’m fucking starving now”

-

Having claimed the flannel shirt you’d worn earlier, that was all you wore as you curled up in a camping chair as Chris lit a campfire and started to make breakfast. Henry approached holding a steaming mug of coffee for you which you eagerly took, your teeth chattering as you started to regret not putting more clothing on;

“Cold? Scoot up and sit on my lap, i’ll keep you warm”

Quickly standing you let Henry take a seat in the camping chair before you sat on his lap, his body like a furnace even though he was just in sweats and a t-shirt. Sitting sideways on him he had one strong arm around your back, the other casually resting on your bare thigh as your legs were swung over the other side of the chair. 

You sat and relished the warmth from his body, the three of you chatting about work when you felt Henry’s hand slide between your thighs. Glancing at his face his attention was trained on Chris, his poker face only cracking when you saw the corner of his mouth tug up in a tiny smirk, glancing at you as Chris turned away and cocking an eyebrow as his fingers found your slit. 

“Shh” he quietly whispered as he slid two fingers into your soaked channel as his thumb found your clit, before he nonchalantly returned to the conversation with Chris. Soon you were writhing on his lap and you could feel the insistent nudge of his cock hard against your ass, so when Chris disappeared to the truck to grab stuff from the chiller Henry grinned at you;

“I need to be inside you… quickly…”

You stood and he pulled his sweats down just enough so his angry red cock sprang free, pulling you to sit on his lap, your legs closed as you stood between his outstretched thighs, and you slid down onto him, spearing your narrow channel with his girth. Chris wandered back holding the supplies;

“Eggs? Breakfast sausage?”

You heard Henry snort back a peel of laughter, and Chris paused, frowning;

“What are you two up to?”

“Chris, she’s already getting her breakfast sausage…” Henry lifted the shirt you wore and you parted your thighs, showing Chris what he was missing. The unmistakable twitch inside Chris’s sweats told you he was growing hard, and as you started to bound on Henry’s lap Chris simply leant and sat on the edge of the small camping table, squeezing himself through the fabric as Henry thrust up into you.

You let your cries and gasps drift on the wind as Henry slid one hand down your front and rubbed firm circles on your clit, his other hand cupping your chin and turning your head so he could kiss you, his stubble brushing against your cheek. He started to grunt and you could feel your orgasm sparking like electricity coursing through your veins, you were now so cock hungry you were begging for him to fill you up with another load of his cum as your body milked him. 

With weary limbs you lay prone across Henry’s lap, a smile on your face as you glanced at Chris who’s eyes were dark with lust as his sweatpants were obscenely tented. Groaning as you pulled off of Henry, your legs wobbled as you closed the distance between you and Chris, kissing him fiercely as he held your body to his so you could feel his hardness pressing against your stomach;

“Betcha getting sore now…” he mused

“Kinda”

“Bend over the table, let me make you feel better…”

Stepping around the table you bent over it, pressing your chest to the smooth surface, grinning at Henry who was now sipping his coffee as he watched you and Chris with interest. 

You heard the click of a bottle lid just as Chris flipped the shirt you still wore up so your naked ass was exposed completely, the cool trickle of oil over your buttocks followed by his warm palms smoothing the cooking condiment into your skin like a goddess at a Greek temple. His thumbs ran over the swollen lips between your thighs and the deep timbre of his voice resonated through you;

“Look at that, so much cum dripping out of you, our little fuck slut”

He slid two fingers into your pussy, before pulling them out and tracing them over your asshole, the oil helping the way as he breached your body and you let out a groan as he slid in easily. Moving his hand he managed to get his other two fingers into your pussy, stuffing both your holes before he grabbed the oil with his other hand and poured more onto your asshole, lubricating you for the inevitable. 

You felt him pull his hand free and he quickly yanked his sweatpants down, the wide bulbous crown pressing against your oiled rose before with a grunt he pushed in and breached your body;

“So fucking good, gonna pump your ass full of cum then Henry can do the same… if he’s got another round in him” he shot a glance to Henry as did you, the Brit raising his coffee mug as he watched his friend plunder your asshole.

“Gonna finish my coffee, and if you’re not done by then Evans you’ll have missed your shot”

With the challenge set by Henry, Chris started to rail you hard, balls deep in your ass as the quiet sounds of nature seemed to come alive as it fed off the carnal energy in its presence, until finally with a scream you came, an intense anal orgasm making you squirt and cover Chris’s thighs, before with a guttural cry he pushed in balls deep and unloaded a thick stream of cum in your bowels. 

You lay prone on the table, your body seemingly on fire as your mind was high on serotonin, watching through heavy lidded eyes as Henry stood and came round to stand behind you beside Chris.

Sucking in a breath Chris carefully pulled out, and the two men watched as a thigh glob of cum slowly slid from your gaping hole. Henry rubbed his thumb over your stretched ring as he pulled his sweats down;

“Gonna enjoy this… don’t normally get to fuck a girls ass, but if she’s already lubed and cum soaked i can just about squeeze in”

The blunt tip of his dick breached your body, and even though Chris wasn’t small, your body had to stretch even more to allow Henry’s girth into your dark passageway;

“So good… doing so well Darling…” Henry muttered as he smoothed his hands over your cheeks; “Fuck this is tight… not gonna last long…”

His powerful hips started to thrust into you, the suction of your body pulling him back in as he railed your asshole with you bent over the small table. 

“C’mon Henry, fill that little slut up”

“Almost… fucking… there…” he replied through gritted teeth, before pushing forwards one last time, filling you with another load.

“Did you…”

“Nah, just getting to that…”

You were hanging on the precipice, your orgasm so close as Henry pulled out and flipped you over, getting to his knees as he buried his face in your pussy, sliding two fingers into each of your cum soaked holes as his wide tongue lapped at your clit and be brought you to one final mind blowing orgasm. 

With everyone completely fucked out and sated, Henry wrapped his arms around you as he pulled you off the table and settled you on his lap, your body and mind overloaded from being fucked so well for so long. You quietly snoozed on his chest as Chris served breakfast, both men eating quietly as you slumbered, before an hour later you finally roused enough with your rumbling stomach to eat some toast.

Finally as they were clearing up you stood and stretched your limbs, before you quietly shed the now rather soiled borrowed shirt, and as naked as the day you were born you slowly walked into the lake, the cool waters lapping at your skin, soothing your muscles and washing away the evidence of your sin filled morning. 

Floating and looking back at the two men as the finished up and started to undress, you smiled to yourself; for your first time camping it was certainly a trip to remember.

[immortalpunz]

♡punz appreciation post ♡

i don't know, i feel like punz is slept on so much bc of the other more well known cc's and i think he deserves more recognition

im also just a huge punz simp im sorry ajsfd

- his minecraft skills are so fucking unmatched frfr, his current speedrun pb is 19:31 ,, so i mean, that ain't half bad.

-dream has said himself that he is hesitant about adding punz as the 5th hunter bc he thinks he's too op (which he is, and i will defend this til the day i die) punz is a top minecraft player and i don't give a fuck what anyone else says

- i know a lot of people on here don't watch his streams (based off the lack of live blogging i see when he's live) but he has dope ass music playing during speedrunning and always promotes others music at the beginning of any stream (roadtrip, derivakats music, etc,) i know a lot of cc's do, but

- avid lgbtq+ ally (always so outwardly supportive of his lgbtq+ friends/chat/fans etc,)

- he's always super great w/ his chat. he calls them out on their bullshit and doesn't let them push any boundaries, while still being super open and willing to have chill conversations. he's really good at expanding on certain topics that a dono will bring up or talking about things that he doesn't know much about by letting chat teach him.

- he's actually such a chill, kind, considerate dude ! he always wants everyone to feel welcome and comfortable.

- during group streams, he always wants to make sure that everyone is heard. I think he did a stream with niki(?) and a bunch of other people a while ago and she said something and was being talked over/ignored. but punz spoke over them to expand on what she had said and talk to her.

- punz was also the first bigger cc that raided ranboo when he first started and only had a few hundred(?) viewers, which is what got ranboo his first bit of exposure :))

- he plays more than minecraft as well, he also plays valorant, among us, and pummel party. he plays pummel party every saturday night with a group (typically w/ antfrost, boomer, velvet, 5up, bad, gumi, sam, and sometimes foolish !!!) and it's super pog :) y'all should watch it!

- he's actually funny too ?!? (i know, unheard of for a cc to actually be funny /hj)

- he's a good streamer™ - he's very active with chat and knows how to interact with them vv well :) he always tries to match his energy with whoever he's streaming with/match the vibe of the content. he knows how to intrigue his audience (subjective, but a personal opinion of mine !)

-he seems like he genuinely appreciates even the tiniest gestures of others, he doesn't half-ass any responses and makes sure that the person or friend he's talking to/dono he's answering knows that he actually appreciates them and cares about what they're saying

-he cares about the content he puts out and if he starts feeling 'out of it' or low on energy he won't stream/will end stream bc he doesn't want to ruin the vibe for the viewers or have content he isn't proud of. (he does stream on his alt twitch account too for his less energetic, less hype streams, they're usually a good vibe too)

- if he makes a mistake or says/does something out of line, he takes the time to educate himself, listen to what others have to say, and will apologize without trying to defend himself for what he did. he takes responsibility for his actions. like when he made a 'bottom' joke on stream, ant and velvet talked to him for a while afterwards to let him know like 'hey, no, dont do that' and he held himself accountable.

-he gives all of his friends random compliments for no reason (and will say that one of his friends reminds him of a character/post ect,)

- also,, he did an eyebrow slit for a sub goal (it looks so good, send help!!)- and will be painting his nails black for the next one !! :))

a lot of my moots don't watch punz from what i've seen on my dash, but he is genuinely one of my favourite streamers and i wanted to share some appreciation for him <3 i know this was super messy, but im so ajhshvdjasd about him

*side note: im currently writing this as im watching his alt stream and gumi is absolutely roasting punz and ripping him apart while he's afk (/lh) for being annoying and bullying everyone during pummel party ajsgdja

a few things gumi/elaina/chat has said about him in the past 5 minutes while he was afk (all /lh):

-punz seems like a dude that would wear cargo shorts in the snow ajsjdha.

-also said that he was probably the dude in highschool that would jump and hit the door frame when entering a room lmaoo.

-he most likely practices all the tiktok dances alone in his room.

-looks like a dude that would enjoy coleslaw

he came back to the stream and all of his friends went "scatter!" hgasfdh

love adding a bit of spice to my appreciation posts <3

[babbushka]

Mrs Z! Thank you for doing a Flip special!

What about throwing Flip a big surprise party with lots of people and he’s not happy about it. You make it up to him by letting him have his way with you before you cut the cake. Maybe he’s too into and gets carried away with being loud and noisy or gets caught somehow and that’s his birthday party, is his guests cheering his bedroom antics or roasting him.

2.6k; humor & NSFW (blowjobs/face fucking, hair pulling, come swallowing)

“I don’t remember you forgetting anything here.” Flip frowns, as he pulls the Chevy into his usual parking spot at the CSPD.

It’s his birthday, and he hadn’t taken the day off of work to avoid drawing any suspicion, so he’s a little irritated that when he gets all the fuckin’ way back home to you, finishes having the delicious dinner you cook for him, and he’s just about to ask if you want to engage in a little birthday love-makin’, that you groan and announce that it’s urgent he take you back to the station.

He already gets sour enough on his birthday as it is, but he had hoped that he could enjoy a quiet -- or maybe not so quiet -- evening in bed with his wife, just the two of you tucked up against one another to distract him from the passing of time.

“It was my Pyrex, I left it in the breakroom, it should be in the sink unless someone moved it.” You’re too determined to get the damn thing back, and Flip loves you, so Flip drove you in his truck that he parks, eyeing his work.

“And you want me to go in and get it?” He complains, deep voice too gravely for it to be a true whine, “Can’t I wait in the car?”

“You’re going to abandon your most beloved wife in her hour of need?” Your eyes are wide and clear and he hates how he gets lost in them, how he meant it when he said he’d do anything for you. He hates how you know it.

“That’s not fair.” Jabbing a finger in your direction, you only lean forward enough to cup his cheeks in your hands, sweetly pressing chaste kisses to his lips, your lashes brushing against his cheek as you draw him in with the smell of your perfume.

“Please?” Your voice is breathy in the way that makes Flip go weak in the knees, and even though he knows he’s being manipulated, he’s not mad about it.

“Fuck, alright fine.” He gives in, making you brighten up immediately as he turns the car off so the engine doesn’t idle, being sure to keep the windows cracked even though Colorado in May is a balmy sixty-five degrees. “You just, I don’t know, sit here and keep being pretty.”

“Yes sir.” You wink, and Flip isn’t so sure he likes the twinkle that he sees in your eye.

Walking through the CSPD lobby, he notices it’s quiet.

Too quiet.

No one is calling in emergencies, no one is typing away at their desks, no one is chatting by the water fountain. Something must be very very wrong, and Flip halfway wonders if there was some kind of national announcement, if Ford was making a speech somewhere.

His suspicion only grows, when he turns the corner to the break room, and opens the door frowning to himself and muttering, “Why are all the fuckin’ lights turned off?”

When he flicks the light switch, he’s so startled that he takes a step backwards, as seemingly the entire station jumps up to shout in his face a big loud, “Surprise!!”

“What the fuck -- ”

“Happy birthday Zimmerman!” All his friends and co-workers are there, the guys from the narcotics division, the folks down at homicide, all the higher ups, secretaries, rookies and seasoned pros alike.

Everyone gathered in this room that is way too small for them, organized by someone to give him a goddamn heart attack. A hand gently rubs at his back, and Flip whirls around to see you there.

“Is this your way of saying you want a divorce?” He jokes dryly, making the entire room chuckle, because really only Flip would have this sort of reaction.

“For the record this was not my idea.” You say, not wanting him to think the blood is on your hands, “Ron insisted. I tried to tell him.”

Ron steps forward then and hands Flip a card, one that he’s not going to open now because he’s sure he’d die from the embarrassment of floundering with the envelope in front of all these people, but he does bring Ron in for a hug.

“It’s signed by all of us here.” Ron gestures with one of those big handsome smiles of his, the kind that shows off all his teeth, and Flip doesn’t have the heart to be angry about all this attention to his face.

“Thank you.” He says instead, feeling so fucking out of his depth, completely out of his element, palms sweating as he reaches for you with a quiet pleading, “Ketsl?”

“I’m right here.” You whisper as you take his hand, grounding him in the present.

Everyone is looking at him, and it reminds him of when he had to give presentations in school. He doesn’t know what to say, the tips of his ears going crimson red.

“You guys didn’t have to do all this.” Flip pulls you tight against his side, his arm stretching across your shoulders. Maybe if he just holds you close enough, he can use you as a human shield for conversation, he thinks.

“We had no idea it was your birthday! No one ever can figure it out -- but don’t worry, we’ve put it in your file so we know for next year!” One of the older secretaries, Ms. Rosie, cheerfully pipes up, making dread creep up Flip’s spine.

He looks down at you, and you give him a sheepish smile. He wants to complain like the grouch that he was, but then his attention shifts to the big table of food and drinks that is spread out on the table against the wall of the break room.

“...Is that chocolate cake?” He tries not to sound too hopeful, and the break room laughs again, because even the strongest most stoic man truly can be lured in by cake.

“I made it for you special. We’ll do candles after everyone’s had a bite to eat!” You announce to the room, patting Flip’s back as the crowd begins to murmur excitedly amongst themselves, a queue forming for the hot fresh pizza. You lean up to whisper in Flip’s ear, “If you can play nice, I’ll give you one of your presents before we get to cut the cake.”

Raising his eyebrows at you, he blinks a little. The surprises just kept comin’, didn’t they?

“Can’t I get it now?” Flip tries, but you only chuckle and shake your head.

“Go say hello to everyone, and then meet me in the back of the file room.” Patting his back once again, you slip away, an incentive for him to get this over with as soon as possible.

Flip doesn’t think he’s ever shaken so many goddamn hands, or kissed so many cheeks in his life. On the one hand, it felt nice somewhere deep down inside, to know that so many of his co-workers decided to take part of this party. He felt valued and appreciated, even if he would have rathered this never happen in the first place, would have rathered to be in bed with you right now...which brings him to the other hand; he’s achingly hard in his fucking jeans, thinking about what’s waiting for him in the file room.

He doesn’t have to wait much longer though, because soon the last person has been spoken to and thanked, and he’s excusing himself to go to the “bathroom,” heading in the complete opposite direction of the bathroom.

“Ketsl, honey?” Flip prompts softly, looking around for you in the low light of the room, “You back here?”

“Took you long enough.” Your voice sounds from around the corner, and like a glass of cool water on a hot day, there you are, arms reaching out for him.

“Would’ve been sooner if you hadn’t invited so many fuckin’ people.” Flip lets himself be wrapped up in your embrace, his palms smoothing around your sides to caress your back, one of them dropping down to give your ass a firm squeeze.

“Ron did, not me. Like I said, he insisted.” You remind him, kissing your husband deeply, licking into his mouth, voice soft and breathy, “Let me make it up to you?”

The hair on the back of Flip’s neck stands up when you sink down to your knees, not breaking eye contact. He holds his breath, his cock twitching at the implications of that motion, pulse already starting to pound a little harder.

You rest your cheek against his strong thigh, popping open the button on his jeans, sliding the zipper down tantalizingly slow, making a real show of it. Flip hums, pets at your hair, smooths his palm against your cheek as he watches your eyelids grow heavy. You nuzzle against the palm there, suckling on his fingers just a little bit, teasingly, playfully.

“Oh fuck yes.” He quirks a little smile at you.

When you finally pull his dick out, you’re licking your lips, wetting them, drooling over yourself. He’s just as affected, pre-come already leaking out of the tip of his cock, and he groans when you swipe it up with your tongue. Time is of the essence here, and as much as you would like to drag this out, you can’t, so you cut right to the chase.

“Shit -- your moth’s so hot.” He grunts as your mouth opens wide wide wide for him, tongue flattening as you suck the head of his cock between your lips, careful of your teeth.

One of your hands braces yourself on his thigh, while the other holds the base of his cock, keeps him steady. Flip has a tendency to buck and choke you when he’s too wound up just like he is now, so the grip holds him in place as you swallow him down inch by inch.

Fuck, your husband’s dick is big! It’s not just long but thick too, the girth of it always something that has your jaw aching. You open your mouth wider to take him, relaxing your throat so that he can slip deeper and deeper, breathing through your nose. Never once looking away from him, you can see how antsy, how impatient Flip is getting, and if you could smile, you would.

But you can’t, because your mouth is filled to the absolute brim, so you tap the side of his thigh to signal that he can start moving.

“Yes!” He says maybe a little too loudly, “That’s it, oh fuck that’s it.”

And oh, does he fucking move. The second you’ve given him permission, he’s gripping your hair and thrusting hard. Moans and grunts pour out of his chest as he holds your head in both of his hands, keeps you snug against his groin. Your nose is nestled in his dark thatch of hair, and you can’t deny the way the musky smell gets you flustered, gets you wet. He’s not going to have time to fuck you properly here, but that’s okay -- this was only the preview of the evening to come.

“God you feel so fuckin’ good, my good girl, fuck -- ” Breathing hard and fast, Flip fucks your face hard, keeping you steady so that you don’t accidentally take him down at a wrong angle and splutter and cough.

Relaxing for him, you let yourself be used, the salty sweaty taste of his cock running over your tongue, plunging down your throat soothing and familiar in a fucked up way that only over a decade of marriage can bring.

“Fuck!” He snarls when your tongue wriggles against the veins that throb along his shaft, sucking down hard everything that you can, one of your hands moving to cup and roll his balls, “Oh baby that’s it, just like that, keep doin’ that, oh god your tight fuckin’ throat feels good.”

Tears start to prick at the corners of your eyes when it becomes so much that your jaw aches, and you squirm, wanting to be touched, wanting to be fucked even though you know you can’t have it yet. Right now is about him, about the pleasure he gets from the way you suck him down, and then you’re swallowing hard, and the friction has him cursing loud loud loud, coming down your throat.

“Damn, ketsl!” he pushes his cock all the way down your throat one last time, before pulling away to watch his come shoot all over your tongue, your lips, your chin. Painting your face with it, he grunts, pulling your hair to angle your face up some more, a better view. You stick your tongue out for him, and another pulse of come bursts out of his cock from the sight, his filthy fucking whore of a wife, love of his life, on your knees like his own personal pornstar.

You fucking look like one anyway, and you sure as shit sound like one with the way you’re moaning and breathing hard, nipples so hard that he can see the way your blouse peaks out from over them.

Wiping away the come on your face and licking it off your fingers, swallowing every drop of evidence that you can, you and Flip grin at one another, his orgasm having him in a much more pleasant mood.

“We should get back out there, huh.” He gives you a hand and hoists you off your knees, pulls you close and kisses the taste of his come off your lips.

“People are gonna wonder where you went.” You smile, giving him your lovey-dovey eyes, glad that he’s enjoyed at least one part of this surprise. “You can’t disappear at your own party. How do I look?”

“Too beautiful for your own good.” Pinching your nose and giving you face a little shake, the two of you leave the records room behind.

“Well well well, if it ain’t the lovebirds!” Sergeant Trapp announces the second that you and Flip walk back into the main lobby of the station where everyone has spread out with their food and drinks.

“You two really can’t go two seconds without goin’ at it like rabbits, can you?” Ron laughs, teasing in a way that has Flip’s scowl coming back after all your hard work.

“Mrs. Z I gotta admit I’m impressed you’re still standin’, that sounded like quite the time.” Jimmy winks at you, and you slap a hand to your face. You hadn’t even thought about the noise that you must’ve made -- all the shelves moving, the grunts and groans, the cursing.

“Watch your mouth Jim, or I’ll be forced to do something about it.” Flip warns, but there’s something warm in the threat, playful. You’re fuckin’ glad for that, the last thing you needed on Flip’s birthday was him getting fired for beating the shit out of his friend.

“Oh yeah like what? I’m surprised you’ve got the energy for threats, old man.” Jimmy only eggs him on, all eyes on the two of them.

“That’s it -- ” Flip lunges immediately, making you rush forward and grab him by the scruff of his neck, preventing a wrestling match, even if a friendly one.

“Boys please, have some cake and maybe you’ll calm down.” You roll your eyes.

“You know,” Flip says later, when you lead him through to the breakroom where someone’s lit a fuckton of candles in an attempt to guess how old he is, and you’re curled up on the couch next to him as he licks the frosting off of his fork, “I’m starting to think there never was any Pyrex.”

And it’s all that you can do to just kiss him and shut him up, letting him get away with being an idiot because he’s your birthday boy.

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

Tagging some Flip friends! @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @materialisthicc @hswritingrecs @han68000 @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars

[songsformonkeys]

All the things he missed (ezra x f!reader)

summary: Five times you meet Ezra. Five things he’s missed while he was gone.

word count: 2900

rating: explicit

warnings: none

notes: This story is for @yespolkadotkitty​ as thanks for all the beautiful beautiful banners she has made for me and my stories, this one included. She asked for Ezra smut and here we are *shrugs*

Ao3

All the things he missed

The first time Ezra sees you, it's like time slows down and his field of vision narrows down so that there is only you. At least that's how he tells the story. You later joke and question whether it was really you that had captured his attention or the pot roast you had been carrying at the time.

Because the first time you see Ezra, as he walks into the small restaurant near the flight hangars on Darwash where you work, he's as thin as a baby bird. He's just gotten home from an ill-managed gig where supplies ran out earlier than the transport home was scheduled to arrive. Luckily, he and his crew noticed before it was too late and managed to ration the food, allowing for all of them to come home alive, if a lot thinner than when they left.

Ezra buys the entire pot roast straight out of your arms that day and actually manages, much to your amazement, to eat the whole thing. He pays a ridiculous amount of money for it, and when you tell the chef, he doesn't believe you. Not until the two of you hide behind the door to the kitchen and watch how the thin man in the too-big suit devours the entire roast in one sitting.

Whatever drink Ezra wanted was on the house for him that day.

”Can I get you anything else?” you ask him and he smiles in a way that brings life back to his hollowed-out face.

”You've already proven yourself to be more of a blessing than I had expected, when finally clocking out from that shitstorm of a gig. I am content for the time being.” He leans back in his seat and rubs a hand over his belly.

”I sure have missed food like this!”

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The second time you meet Ezra, you almost wouldn't have recognized him if it weren't for the suit and that blonde tuft of hair. He's gained a considerable amount of weight and now he looks healthy and less like he's on the brink of starvation.

He shows up on a slow day and takes a seat by the counter. When he smiles at you, you notice a dimple in his cheek.

”Well, ain't this a pleasant surprise. It's the gentle one from last time I was here. The lady with the roast.”

He orders food this time too, although a less ridiculous amount this time around. He chats happily with you both while he waits for his food and in between chewing, once the food arrives. Ezra talks a mile a minute, mixing the twang and dialect commonly associated with the working-class space travelers with long and overly complicated words that you don't always know the meaning of.

You enjoy listening to him, which only seems to spur him on when he notices. He tells you about places he's been and places he would love to go. He paints vivid pictures of the different planets and people he's met. You're grateful that there aren't any other guests in the restaurant because you don't want to stop listening to this charismatic man talk. You tell Ezra that you have spent your whole life on Darwash and that you wouldn't even know where to begin if you were to travel. He immediately rattles off five different suggestions, which you try to commit to memory before he begins his next tale. You can't help but be drawn in by this man.

He stays with you almost to the end of your shift, asking you questions and answering yours, before he checks his chronometer and realizes that he's late to pick up the keys to his temporary apartment. He pays for everything and, despite your protests, gives you a sizeable tip.

”It's not often I find myself with financial resources to spare. Allow me the pretense of acting like a wealthy man.”

You grudgingly agree and Ezra gives you a wink before he heads for the door. He stops and turns as he reaches it.

”Thank you! I've missed talks like these.”

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

The third time Ezra shows up, he's covered in...something. It's purple and slimy and looks like it will stain whatever he touches.

”No,” you say, as soon as he walks through the door, ignoring the way your heart skips at the sight of him. You quickly round the counter, ready to push him outside if you have to. The other guests closest to Ezra have already begun turning their heads and, as you come closer, you can tell why. The purple goo has a sickly sweet smell that feels like it clogs your nose and makes it feel like you're breathing syrup.

”Ezra, you can not come in here, wearing that!”

”But this is all I've got,” he says, looking a little crestfallen, but there's a twitch to the corner of his mouth that makes you suspect it's all an act. You wave your hands in front of you, motioning for him to step back outside, which he does.

”I am sorry. But I am not spending the whole night scrubbing...whatever this is off whatever you touch in there.”

”Oh gentle one, what happened to your soft demeanor while I was gone?” he says and yes, he is definitely teasing you.

”It wilted away in your absence,” you toss back and Ezra looks positively delighted.

”I'll have to make sure it's not so long until next time then.”

His eyes are big and brown and earnest and you feel your resolve crumble.

”If you want to eat, I can lend you a set of our staff clothes. The suit stays outside, though.”

Ezra agrees and follows you around back to the staff entrance. You make him wait outside while you fetch him some clean clothes. When you come back, he's already halfway out of his suit. He pulls his undershirt over his head and uses it to wipe some goo from his hair. You're struck dumb by the sudden display of his bare back and only manages to clear your throat to get his attention. He turns, and you walk over to hand him the clothes. His hand brushes yours as he accepts them from you, and you feel like one of the maidens from the old romance novels you have at home because your cheeks burn from just that small touch.

Ezra notices and, of course, can't help but comment.

”What lovely color. To bring a flush to those cheeks is challenge I wouldn't mind having a second go at.”

You hear Ezra chuckle when you flee into the restaurant again.

When he shows up inside a couple of minutes later, he's dialed back the flirting slightly, and takes a seat at the counter. He picks some invisible lint off the shirt.

”Thank you, gentle one! These are comfortable. I have missed wearing clothes like these.”

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

The fourth time Ezra shows up, it's late in the evening right before your shift ends. He just orders a drink and later, once his glass is empty, he offers to walk you home. You both know what he's really offering and you decide to take him up on that offer. He kisses you outside your front door. It's soft and sweet, and you can tell that he's holding back. You nip at his lower lip and the sound he makes at the back of his throat goes straight to your gut.

You invite him in and Ezra barely let's you close and lock the door behind you before his hands are on you, pulling you close.

That night you find out just how skilled that mouth is at other things besides talking. He falls asleep in your arms afterwards. You stay awake for as long as you can, reveling in the feeling of his stubbled face against your shoulder and his arm across your waist.

The next morning you wake up to find Ezra already awake and watching you. He tells you that he has to leave again this afternoon for another gig. Logically you knew that you wouldn't get to keep Ezra in your bed forever, but there's still a foolish part of you that's disappointed.

”It's just one gig, gentle one,” Ezra says, having noticed the expression on your face, ”Pays quite the fortune too. I'll be back before you have time to miss me. And when I return, I should like to treat you to a proper date. Take you somewhere real fine.”

He tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear and you lean into the touch.

”Thank you for tonight, gentle one. I have missed sleeping next to someone this way.”

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

Ezra promises to be back before spring ends, but Ezra doesn't show up. More and more time passes, spring turns to summer, which in turn turns to fall, and still there's no sign of Ezra. You begin to feel foolish, to question what it was you two had shared. It had been stupid to fall for a man you hardly knew, a prospector at that. Of course Ezra wouldn't be back. He probably has a girl like you in every port. The disappointment tastes bitter on your tongue.

But despite the realization that your encounter had probably meant more to you than it had to Ezra, you can't stop thinking about him, and there is still that tiny part of your brain that still hopes...

Which was why, when you open your door almost a year later, and find Ezra standing outside, you don't slam it in his face.

Ezra isn't wearing his suit but a knitted gray sweater and a pair of beige pants that both look new and expensive. One of the sleeves is pinned up, making it clear that Ezra's right arm is no more. His face looks worn and tired.

”I apologize for being late, gentle one,” he says and you can't stop yourself from stepping out in the cold to wrap your arms around his neck. You feel the tension melt away from his shoulders and when you press your lips to his, he makes a relieved sigh.

”Oh I am a blessed man,” he mumbles against your lips and you pull back as he continues speaking. ”I thought myself a fool to think that you would wait for me, but I told myself: I have to try. Gentle one, I truly am sorry!”

”It's okay,” you assure him, as if your last year hasn't been filled with longing and doubt about this man that's currently in your arms. ”Would you like to come inside?”

”I would like that very much.”

You take his hand and lead him inside and up the stairs. Ezra continues rattling off excuses mixed with compliments on your appearance. He has a debate with himself about the pattern of your blue dress and precisely what it's supposed to be.

You silence him with your mouth when you reach the bedroom.

Ezra won't let you undress him, and you suspect that he wants to show you that he can still do it himself. Once he's pulled his shirt off, he catches you looking at what remains of his right arm with a worried look.

”That is quite a story,” he says, ”And I should like to do it justice so I beg that we can save it for later. Right now there are more pressing matters and every fiber of my being longs to touch you and I implore that you have mercy and don't make me wait any longer.”

You would roll your eyes at his dramatics, if it weren't for the fact that the same longing that he describes claws in your own chest. You rid yourselves of the rest of your clothes in a matter of seconds. Ezra lays you out on the bed, naked, and takes a few moments just to observe. His gaze is heavy enough that it feels like a physical touch when he runs it across your body. You squeeze your thighs together and when his fingers finally caress your collarbone, you almost arch off the bed just in anticipation of what comes next.

Ezra's hand trails lower pausing to cup one of your breasts and feel the weight of it in his hand, running the pad of his thumb over your nipple a few times, before continuing down across your stomach.

Ezra is touching you like he's committing every inch of you to memory. Out loud, he compares various parts of your body to things he's seen on his travels, and the wonder in his voice makes you want to wrap him up in your arms and keep him there forever. To him, your body is a collection of hills, valleys and planes, gemstones and monuments. Every part of you is likened to a different place or kind of terrain and when he runs his fingers over the hairs between your legs and murmurs: ”So soft. Like...” you cut him off by leveling him with a warning glare.

”Careful how you finish that sentence, Ezra,” you say and he laughs before leaning down to kiss you. As his mouth covers yours, his finger slips between your folds and you moan against his lips.

He dips his finger inside, just enough to gather some of your slick on his finger, before he pulls it out to gently massage your clit. You have done this to yourself hundreds of times but the sensation of his fingers is entirely different.

He apologizes for his lack of finesse and inexperienced left hand but the only response you can give him is a moan and a whimper. You suppose that contradicts his claimed lack of finesse just fine.

”Look at you,” he whispers and there's that tone of wonder again. He continues to shower you with praise as his fingers and voice bring you closer and closer to an orgasm. You grip his thigh hard enough that you're sure you're leaving marks and your thighs shake as he speeds up his movements. You don't stand a chance and you cry out his name as pleasure washes over you.

Ezra continues to move his fingers through your orgasm and as you sink back against the mattress like a boneless mess, he leans down to kiss your forehead. You tilt your head up instead and capture his mouth in a sloppy kiss that only half hits its mark.

Your lower body is still tingling when you reach for the contraceptives in the drawer of your nightstand. As you lean over, Ezra slots himself against your back and kisses your shoulder and your neck. His hand is still between your legs, gently cupping you.

You take out one of the small soft squares and move Ezra's hand out of the way so you can carefully push the small square inside yourself. Still sensitive from Ezra's touch, the action makes you moan softly. You let it absorb for a moment as Ezra strokes your thigh and tells you how beautiful you are.

When he pulls your hand out, he holds it up to his mouth to suck your fingers clean. As those sinful lips close around your index finger, he lifts your leg and shifts his hips closer. You reach down and help guide him inside. He moans in your ear and the sound vibrates all the way through your body and is almost enough to make you come a second time.

”I feel I must warn you,” Ezra whispers a little tensely, as if he's holding back another moan, ”In surroundings as exquisite as these, I fear I won't last long.”

”I don't care,” you assure him and that's all the reassurance Ezra needs before he starts to move.

He sets a slow pace fucking you, like he's relishing in each slow thrust. He keeps a running commentary of the way you feel around him. Lost in your own pleasure, you hear maybe half of it.

His hand alternate between gently holding your hips in place as he thrusts into you and running up your torso to caress your chest and neck. When he's not talking, and sometimes while he's talking, he places kisses along your shoulder and up the side of your neck and face. Your spine feels taught as a bowstring as he repeatedly hits a spot inside you that sends sparks of pleasure through your body.

True to his warning, Ezra doesn't last very long. His voice gets more and more breathless the closer he gets to his orgasm, but he doesn't stop talking. It's only in the moment that he finally comes that he falls silent, pressing his mouth against the nape of your neck and letting out a soft whimper. You hold his hand tightly through his orgasm.

Later, he is lying with his head on your chest and your fingers play with the blonde lock of hair at his temple. He's in the middle of telling you about this final gig on the green moon, when he suddenly stops and looks up at you. You smile and raise your eyebrow slightly in a silent question.

”Gentle one...before I continue, I have to tell you something.”

”And what's that?”

”I really really missed you.”

Taglist: @yespolkadotkitty​ @agirllovespasta​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ @larakasser​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @beccaplaying​ @ohpedromypedro​ @knittingqueen13​ @pedropascallion​ @scarlettvonsass​ @softskywalkcr​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @holographic-carmen​ @mrschiltoncat​ ( I have tagged people who’ve asked to be on the taglist and people who I think might like this based on previous reblogs and comments. If you want to be added or released from the taglist, just let me know)

[marvelousstevetony]

would you do: Behind Closed Doors - (character) has a solid public face, but in private they let themselves be taken care of when they’re not well, for stevetony? thanks!

Ahh, anon, I love this prompt. It definitely gives me all the Tony-feels, so that’s what I went with. Hope you enjoy this little ficlet of sick!Tony and a very sweet Steve taking care of him. (2.1k words)

———

Had Steve not woken up to Tony’s stuffy, little snores, and had he not noticed the quiet sniffles and subtle nose rubs throughout breakfast, Steve would’ve never thought Tony was any less than a-okay. He would’ve kissed his boyfriend good morning with a gentle brush of their lips instead of pressing a peck to his temple, and he would’ve filled Tony’s mug with dark roasted coffee instead of lemon tea with honey. But Steve was… well, he was Steve, and though Tony was thought to be the genius of the two, Steve was an expert when it came to Tony Stark. It had not taken long, even in a sleep-induced haze, for Steve to conclude that Tony had caught a cold and that he was in for a very interesting morning. It went something like this:

Tony awoke to an empty bed that was still warm from where Steve had lain, which meant it could’ve only been about fifteen minutes since he’d left. Wincing at the sudden soreness he felt in his throat, he swallowed and coughed a few times as he scrubbed his hands over his face. He could hear pans clattering from the kitchen and figured Steve was making breakfast, but he wasn’t sure as he couldn’t smell anything through his blocked nose. 

He was right, though, because when he emerged from the bedroom and entered the kitchen, Steve was stood at the stove —clad in his apron that said I am tortellini in love with you, which Tony had gifted him because it was the corniest thing he’d ever seen and therefore very Steve— and something that looked a lot like blueberry pancakes were sizzling on the pan in front of him.

“‘Morning,” Tony rasped, slumped onto the chair at the breakfast bar and smiled sleepily and murmured a quiet thanks when Steve handed over his mug, then went on to frowning at it when he realized it wasn’t coffee. Steve couldn’t help but chuckle and said “It’ll feel good on your throat” as a way of explaining, then continued to ask, “How’re you feeling, sweetheart?”

Tony shrugged and sniffled into the cuff of his long-sleeved t-shirt, and Steve gave a sympathetic hum in reply.

“How did you know something’s up? I literally just woke up,” the brunette said and grimaced when he sipped at the tea, muttering something along the lines of disgusting flower-water.

“It’s not flower-water, Tony, it’s lemon,” Steve said with a roll of his eyes. “You were snoring,” he clarified, unable to keep the fondness from his tone.

“I don’t snore,” Tony defended grumpily.

“You do,” Steve retorted with a laugh. Tony huffed. “Especially when you’re sick. Thus, tea and pancakes.”

“You’re a heathen and a saint, and I don’t know how to feel about that.” Tony narrowed his eyes, forging a thoughtful expression.

“I think you love it,” Steve said charmingly and reached over the counter to place a stack of blueberry pancakes drowned in maple syrup in front of Tony, sweet and warm and perfect.

They chatted as they ate, Steve talking about the new recruits he was training at the compound, Tony grumbling about the press conference he had to attend later that day. When Tony’s nose visibly twitched and his eyes began to flutter shut, Steve reached to grab a few tissues from a box on the kitchen counter and handed them to Tony, who gratefully accepted them just as he drew in a desperate breath.

“h’uhh- hetCHISHhew! snff… hehSCHss!” Tony muffled the sneezes into the tissues and sighed stuffily.

“God bless you, baby… If you’re sick you should cancel. Tony,” Steve said earnestly, frowning concernedly when Tony rolled his eyes.

“It’s just a small cold,” Tony shrugged, “I’ve worked through worse things.”

Taking Tony’s hands in his, Steve rubbed Tony’s knuckles with his thumbs, then brought their combined hands to his lips as he plastered a myriad of soft pecks on the back of Tony’s hand.

“I know you have,” Steve said in between the kisses, “but the things is… you really shouldn’t have to. I want to take care of you.”

“It won’t take long,” Tony offered, his voice low and warm despite the slight rasp. “And then, later, I’ll let you fuss about me all you want, Doctor Rogers,” he added with a playful wink and a blinding smile, and how was Steve ever going to argue with Tony when looked like that; soft and sweet and drop-dead gorgeous.

“You play dirty, Mr Stark,” Steve sighed and shook his head, unable to keep the creeping smile from tugging at his lips.

——————————————

Steve was sat in front of the television in the common room, reading through various forms and applications, when he caught sight of Tony’s face in the large frame of moving pictures. He looked amazing, he always did, clad in a casual suit that fitted him faultlessly. It accentuated his body in all the right places, his shoulders, his waist, his butt… Steve caught his bottom lip between his teeth, and placed the piece of paper he was holding on the coffee table. Now that he was already distracted, he might as well watch his boyfriend outwit all the reporters.

Tony maneuvered his way through all question he was asked with ease; a trademark quip and an equally characteristic charming wink.

“Mr Stark! Rumor has it you and Captain America have separated. What’s your respond to this?”

Steve had seen the reporter before, multiple times, actually. Short, blonde, eyes so wide and piercing it made Steve a little uncomfortable looking at them. She worked for one of the tabloids, the one with all the celebrity gossip and that published an article about Iron Man and Captain America breaking up about every three months. The rumors were never true, of course, but Steve still felt a prickly feeling in his chest whenever he’d read what they’d written. Even just the headlines made his blood boil.

Tony Stark cheating on boyfriend Steve Rogers!

Trouble in Avengers Tower: Power-couple SPLITTING UP!

Iron Man leaving Captain America for personal assistant!

Tony had advised Steve not to read them — it never left him in a good mood and it was all a bunch of bullshit anyways. Steve couldn’t help it though and, as expected, he was furious at the fact that anyone dared calling his boyfriend a bedswerver. Tony just shrugged it off, I’ve gotten used to it, he’d say and laugh at Steve’s grumpy mutterings and adorable pout. The rumors didn’t matter, though, they both knew where they stood in terms of their relationship, both feet planted solidly, their names invisibly engraved deeply into each other’s chest. Which is why Steve barely even flinched when the reporter asked the question.

“Ugh, I wish. He’s such a distraction sometimes and never lets me work overtime. He’s all kinds of stubborn, though, so I doubt I can get rid of him that easily. And, he makes sure I’m alive, so I might just hang on to him until I get bored,” Tony said nonchalantly, but eyes twinkled and his tone was fond and left no doubt that they were still very much together.

Steve felt warmth rise to his cheeks and went back to reading the recruitment forms.

Every once in a while, he’d look up to catch a glimpse of Tony. If Steve hadn’t already known Tony was nursing a cold, he never would’ve guessed it. Tony was so good at switching between his public figure and the man underneath the armor, wether it was a three piece suit or his actual Iron Man amour. It made Steve sad, in a way, knowing Tony had so much experience pretending that it didn’t even bother him anymore. He loved Tony in every way, but he never hid the fact that his favorite Tony was the one who dressed in worn-out band t-shirts or Steve’s sweatshirts that were way too big on him. The one who sang and danced along to the overly loud music playing in the workshop and who didn’t care that he looked ridiculous doing so. The one who clung onto Steve like a koala bear when they were tangled up in bed, refusing to let go of him in his sleep-warm haze.

God, Steve really wanted that press conference to finish.

————————

It did finish, and not too long after, Steve heard the doors to the elevator open, revealing a tired and soft looking Tony.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve said as he got off the couch and walked to where Tony was taking off his jacket and kicking off his shoes. He started helplessly fumbling with his tie, but Steve quickly intervened. “Here, let me do that.”

Tony sighed thankfully, closing his eyes when Steve’s strong hands removed the fabric around his neck and sighed once more when Steve stroked his jaw with his thumb.

“You alright?” Steve asked softly and moved his hand closer to Tony’s face, tracing his index finger down the bridge of his nose. The gentle touch seemed to have an immediate effect as Tony’s nose twitched, and he drew back a couple of inches before turning away from Steve, crushing a fit of sneezes into his fist.

“hetCHISHhew! hetCHshh’oo!” Steve chuckled as Tony’s body shuddered slightly with each sneeze, and with a fond voice commented, “So sensitive when you’re sick.”

Tony managed to give him a disapproving glare before letting out a final sneeze.“huh’uhh… huhESChhh! snff! Ugh, sorry, excuse me.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Steve murmured, “you’ve probably been been holding those off all day, hm?”

Tony sniffled into his wrist and smiled wryly. “I guess so, yeah… didn’t really think of it, to be honest.”

“I truly don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?”

“How you handle all those reporters, all those stupid questions. Especially when you’re this sick, babe.” Steve voice was a mixture of pure awe and deep concern.

Tony shrugged. “I guess I’ve gotten used to it. Stark men are made of iron and all that jazz. They’re just stupid reporters, anyways.”

Steve bit his lip, drawing Tony in close until he felt Tony’s stubble rub against his neck. “Yeah I- I know. It’s just… those articles, what they’re saying about you, it makes me so… so angry, and I-“

“Hey, no, none of that,” Tony interrupted. “I couldn’t care less about what those reporters say, hell, what anyone says about me. The only opinion I care about is yours.”

Steve sighed with a watery smile Tony couldn’t see. “I love you,” he said and leaned in to press a kiss to Tony’s forehead, which was warm, too warm, and frowned. “God, Tony, you’re burning up. You must be feeling awful.”

The cough Tony let out into Steve’s sweater confirmed that statement, but for good measure Tony said, “yeah, I think I need to lie down soon. I’m kinda tired and, uh, I-ihh, heh- huhETsch’oo! ehH’eschoo!”

“Bless you! How about you get ready for bed, and I’ll bring you soup and then some tea afterwa-“

“No! No tea,” Tony disrupted and winced just at the thought of it, “None of that yucky flower-water.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve let out a laugh and tried once again to explain that lemon tea wasn’t flower-water, and Tony just muttered tastes like flowers to me, but neither could bring themselves to discuss the matter any further.

“Okay, so no tea then. Soup, maybe some medicine, tissues, definitely, and— Tony, no.”

Steve’s expression went flat and stern when he looked down at Tony, who in return was looking up at the blonde with big, brown doe-eyes, pouting. “But Steeeve-“

“No, Tony, absolutely not!” Steve repeated. “No coffee, you’re sick and need to rest.”

Tony groaned dramatically. “Such a spoilsport. I guess you’ll have to compensate the lack of coffee with cuddles instead, then.”

“Cuddles instead of coffee?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise when Tony nodded into his shoulder. “Now that is probably the best negotiation I could’ve hoped for.”

About thirty minutes later, the two of them were snuggled up in bed, an empty bowl on the nightstand, tissues scattered randomly across the bed, and some movie neither of them knew the name of was playing on the tv. Steve had him arm around Tony’s shoulder, feeling the heat from Tony’s cheek on his chest through his thin t-shirt. It wasn’t hard to tell the moment Tony drifted off to sleep, the way he cuddled even closer to Steve and his quiet, small snores were enough to tell Steve that he was finally resting.

[kooala]

whatever you need - second chapter

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader, Jimin dating best friend Hannah, ex bf tae

Tags: strangers to lovers! college!au

Genre: fluff, mutual pining, reader isn’t interested in relationships at first

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: none I thinkkk

Summary: The fact that your brain seemed to be occupied with a boy didn’t really sit well with you and the bold flirting made your head spin. But for some strange reason - you really didn’t mind. 

A/N: sorry it took me so longsdsadkfh but here’s the second chapter xx

<<previous 

masterlist

As you waited outside their frat house in your car, ready to pick up that friend of yours, again, you felt like a proper soccer mom, driving your kids around to playdates although Hannah was definitely playing a different sort of ball game.

A knock on your car window caused you to twitch and as you saw Namjoon staring at you with a bright smile on his face, you rolled down the window. 

“Is this going to be a frequent weekend thing now?” he asked, handing over a proper cup of coffee, fresh and steaming. Holding his own cup, you looked out of the window to him with a smile on your face. 

“Thank you very much.”, you snickered, taking a sip and closing your eyes at the taste of the coffee. This wasn’t any cheap ass college student version of a coffee. This one was roasted and delicious. 

“That’s some good ass coffee.”, you mumbled quietly, enjoying the fact that Namjoon obviously knew what he was doing and stepped out of the car eventually to chat with him outside on their lawn. 

“Right? This is what I pull when I want to impress a girl.”, he joked, but the fact that Namjoon had offered you some coffee twice now, caused your stomach to feel a little tingly.

“Well I’m sure you get them all if you brew coffee like that.”, you smiled, sitting down at the steps on the front porch next to him, waiting for Jimin and Hannah to finish up their snogging and snuggling inside. You really enjoyed the cup of coffee that warmed your hands. The slightly chilly morning made it feel even more perfect to sit outside on the porch and wearing your sweat shorts and university sweater, you definitely felt like the coffee cup only added to the college look. 

“Thanks for walking me home yesterday. I know I’ve said it before but it was the complete opposite direction of where you were going so I do appreciate it a lot.”, you smiled over at Namjoon and he shrugged it off smiling. 

“No worries at all. Anytime. And just for the record? Jimin has a car so technically you don’t need to pick her up every time they bang. But I’m going to be really disappointed if we lose those early morning coffee sessions together, not going to lie.”

He chuckled and took a sip of his cup, stretching out his legs down the steps and faced the sun with closed eyes, enjoying the outside. Something about his settle way of flirting made you feel all over the place, especially since none of it was over the top or intrusive. Namjoon flirted in a settle manner, honest and not trying to impress someone with grand gestures. Being someone who wasn’t into flirting if you didn’t know someone well, your bodies reaction seemed to confuse you a little. 

“In that case, you better not mention the car thing to Hannah so I can come by more often.”, you chuckled and Namjoon peeked over out of one of his eyes, a bright smile on his face. 

“Better not.”, he chuckled and you put both your hands around the coffee cup, taking another sip while enjoying the crisp morning air. 

“I know I’ll miss you, too.”, you heard voices behind you in the hallway and Namjoon and you shared a knowing look, both of you trying hard not to laugh at the dramatic situation that had been building up between Jimin and Hannah over the past weeks. He really wasn’t someone to date and now that the two of them seemed to be official, everything was very dramatic and full of emotions between them. If they fought, they fought hard, if they made love, Namjoon couldn’t help but leave the house or listen to some music to get away from it. Now that Jimin was visiting his family in Korea for two weeks, you had no idea how you were going to survive this with Hannah constantly talking about him at the dorm already. 

“If you ever need out, you can call.”, Namjoon whispered and you had to chuckle. 

“I don’t even have your number, I could always ring though.”, you smiled and Namjoon held out his hand with a smile on his face, holding his phone over to you. 

“Well, looks like we’re going to have to change that.” 

It had been a while since somebody had asked you for your number and usually, you were never too keen on giving it away. Something about Namjoon asking made you feel emotions you hadn’t felt in a long time. The excitement of it all made you feel a little skittish and with a shy smile on your face, you typed it in along with your full name for him to safe. 

“Ohohooooo what’s going on here?” Jimin had knelt down between the two of you, his face uncomfortably close between both of your faces and the sudden loud sound made you jump. 

“Why do you have to be like that, Park?”, Namjoon stated calmly, looking up to him and Jimin shrugged with a smug little smirk on his face, giving Hannah a last kiss goodbye.

Sipping that last sip of coffee you handed Namjoon the cup, smiling at him and with closed eyes and a scrunched up nose, he smiled a wide smile that made your stomach twist and tingle. Shaking your head with a chuckle, you got up to walk down the steps to catch up with Hannah who had rushed to the car.

“I meant it!”, he yelled after you, sitting up on the porch. “Call if you want out.” You watched Jimin sit down next to him and mumble something and Namjoon didn’t even blink once, his eyes locked with yours. Another shy smile, you shook your head chuckling and disappeared into the car, driving off while Hannah was nagging you about what had just happened all the way back. 

The following Saturday and Sunday came, without a text from Namjoon. You hadn’t really expected him to text but as he actually didn’t, you found yourself in the position of being a little sad about it. Something very uncommon for you since you happened to be the kind of girl that put being happy alone before feeling completed by someone else first. The fact that your brain seemed to be revolving around whether or not this guy was going to text you, caught you a little off guard. 

You saw him in class once, sitting all the way across the lecture hall and although you had debated on sitting next to him a couple of times, it had never entirely felt right for some reason – so the confusion was big as you and a couple of friends walked into a coffee shop off campus after your last exam to celebrate, before all of you were forced to prep everything for the next semester, when all of a sudden Namjoon popped up behind the counter, towering up behind the big coffee machine. 

Furrowing your brows in amusement you watched him, waiting for him to recognize you and as his head shot up to look through the crowd and his eyes met yours, his focused features softened and a slight smirk crossed his lips, putting his beautiful dimples on full display.

Mouthing a shy “Hey.”, you nodded and Namjoon waved, mouthing it back to you before turning his attention back down to his coffee machine and the foamed milk in his hand. 

All of a sudden you felt way more excited about coffee than you usually would and as you and your friends came up to the register, Namjoon slid in fast between his co-worker in order to be able to take your orders. 

“What can I get for you guys?”, he asked with a sheepish grin, tapping his long finger on the screen, ready to take your orders. All of a sudden you didn’t even remember that you came with people.

“Well what is it you would recommend?”, you asked and looked at him with raised eyebrows. You had to chuckle at his expression as he ran his fingers through his hair, seemingly a little nervous.

“I can recommend the whipped crepes cake with strawberries, it’s really delicious. Oreo roll is also very good but if I could recommend anything, I’d say I’ll pick you up at seven and show you that new restaurant that opened in Gangnam if you’re available.” 

The words didn’t even make their way into your ears properly. All you could hear was a slight ringing while you watched him and the sudden fear of heading into something way too fast was striking you like a slap in the face. Trying not to lose your cool you nodded.

“I’ll take the strawberry crepes cake then.”, you smirked and Namjoon’s eyes flickered between yours, trying to read your expression, worried this may have been a no. “Text me.”, you said smiling and stepped aside to make way for your friends who had more than confused expressions on their faces. 

“I will.”, Namjoon nodded and smiled at you while taking the other orders and as you walked off a couple of steps to sit down at a table, one of your friends sat down next to you with big eyes. 

“What was that about?”, her voice was so excited she had to cover her mouth with one hand in order to not burst out with an excited little scream. “Do you know Namjoon?”, she asked and you looked at her confused. 

“Do you?”, you replied and watched her chuckle, turning her head over to watch his long hands slide over the coffee machine which made you assume he had been doing this for a long time. 

“Everybody does. Namjoon is like... the perfect boyfriend. He’s illiterate, caring, absolutely beautiful... obviously. How come you know him? Why did he ask you out?”

The tone of her voice didn’t really resonate with you and with a straight expression you looked at her. “What do you mean? Why would you say it like that?” 

She immediately put her hands up in defense and you knew you were right about your gist. “I mean I’m just saying.. You’re not the outgoing type. You’re not.. suuuuper girly you know what I mean? I’m not saying you’re not attractive I’m just saying I thought he’d go more for... the super mean IT-girl.���, she rambled and you nodded, wondering if those people sitting down at your table, talking about what had just happened were really your friends. 

Feeling your phone ring in your hand, you looked down. 

Unknown Number [1:57 pm]: You look a little stressed. Sorry for being bold in front of your friends

You [1:57 pm]: It’s okay, no worries at all (:

You saved his contact and smiled as you put a little coffee cup emoji behind his name. 

Namjoon☕️ [1:59 pm]: So? What do you say? I’ll pick you up for dinner?

Looking up from your phone you watched him work for a little while and bit your lip thinking about the offer. There was no harm in going out for dinner with him, if anything it would give you a chance to get to know him but something about the way he had rushed his way into your brain made you hesitate. 

You [2:01 pm]: What are options besides dinner? 

Feeling a little shy and as soon as you sent off the text you played with your phone nervously while watching him work behind the counter. It took him a while before he picked up his phone again and as he read the message, he looked over to you and smiled shrugging. “Whatever you want.” he mouthed and with a smile you had to look down, heat rushing into your cheeks. 

You let the words echo through your head. Whatever you want.

You [2:14 pm]: Let’s go for a walk later. Tell me when you’re off

Namjoon☕️ [2:15 pm]: I’ll be off at six latest. A walk sounds lovely 😊

You sat at the café for a while and Namjoon had been right, the fluffy cake made of thin pancakes with whipped cream and strawberries was delicious and you took your time to eat it. As you walked over ready to head out, you handed over your tray with your empty cup and plate and Namjoon took it with a nod, smiling over.

“Looking forward to it. Should we meet up somewhere? Or want to walk together?” His smile was genuine, his eyes open and focused on you entirely. It made you feel very special and maybe that was the dangerous part, the fact that Namjoon made you feel so special when he was around. 

“What would you prefer? I’m ok with either.”, you say a little shy now, nothing from the little cocky replies from earlier seemed to be left now that the nerves had kicked in. 

“If you’re ok with it I’d say we’ll meet up at the library and walk from there?” He smiled and handed over a little paper bag for you. As you took it, you peaked inside to find a cinnamon muffin inside of it. 

With a smile you closed the bag and looked over to him.

“Almost as good as dinner.”, he winked before wiping his hands on his apron and headed back to turn around and get to the pile of order papers that were out on the counter, waiting for him to prepare them. 

At seven, you waited in front of the library. You had put some effort into your outfit and hair, not too much to not make it look desperate but you had thought about how effortlessly good Namjoon had looked in that turtle neck and coat.

“Hey, [y/n].”, he smiled, walking up to you and you looked up at him with a bright smile. Namjoon was wearing a thick cardigan, a white shirt under it and some rolled up beige dress pants that seemed to be a little too big, making him look like he was fresh out of bed and absolutely preppy at the same time. 

He tended to do that. Looking cozy and put together all at once. 

“Hey, you.”, you smiled up and Namjoon held over his hand with a shy smile, opening it up. Inside was a single purple flower and once you saw it your cheeks turned bright red immediately. This had to be the cutest thing anyone has ever done for you. 

“Figured an entire bouquet would’ve been a little too much.”, he smiled confidently and pointed at the flower. “May I?”, he asked and hesitantly took a step towards you. Namjoon looped the stem of the flower through the unbutton top slit of your coat, making it look like brooch on your coat. 

“Thank you very much. It’s really pretty.”, you smiled, looking down at it and back to Namjoon who had pushed both his hands in his pockets now.

“Shall we?”, he asked and with a nod and a tingly feeling in your stomach, you turned to follow him as he turned towards the direction of town. 

If you’ve managed to read this far, I’d be more than thankful if you could like and reblog my chapter if you enjoyed it! If you have any suggestions for improvement or a drabble request - make sure to shoot me a message!✨

© kooala (stealing, translating or reuploading to other sites is prohibited.) 

[sillyrabbit81]

Her Heavy Cross

Summary: Three years after tragedy hits, Lana she decides to start dating again. She meets Will through a dating app and they begin an online romance. After months of constant requests, Lana relents and agrees to meet and go on an irl date with Will. But is Will who he says he is? Lana is quickly pulled into an intense relationship forcing her to confront her tragic past. Will Lana face it or will she close her heart forever?

Pairing: OMC x OFC

Word Count: approx 2.5k

Warnings: Smut, swearing

Authors Note: The story started as a Henry Cavill fanfiction but I changed it to be an original character, but shades of Henry are still there. Hope you enjoy the story and thanks for reading.

Part 6 Part 8

Part 7

Liam's phone rang. He ignored it and let it go to voicemail. When it rang again, he made a noise of disgust and took his phone out of his pocket to look at it. "It's my publicist. I had better take this."

Liam answered the phone and went outside to talk. I turned the oven on and started to unpack the groceries. Then I got the roast, put it in a baking tray, poured olive oil over the top and seasoned it with salt and some pepper. I got out some onions and garlic and started to cut them up to place around the roast to give it some added flavour.

"That looks great," Liam said when he came back in.

"Thanks," I said, and I gave him a grin. I took the tray and put it in the oven. I got my phone and put an alarm on, giving myself time to cook the veggies before they finished. A thought came to me, and before I could bite my tongue, I said, "They do say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

"Really?" Liam licked his lips, looked down at his pants and said, "I'd say they were aiming too high."

It took me a minute to work out what the joke was. When I finally did, I couldn't help but laugh and hide my face in my hands.

"You've gone so red!" Liam appeared to be having fun with my inability to control my blushes.

"Oh, my God!" I said, still hiding my face and laughing. "Alright, that was funny."

It took me a while to stop laughing. When I did, Liam said sombrely, "Sweetheart, I have to tell you something."

"Uh, oh, it doesn't sound good."

"It's not bad. I don't know how you will feel about it." Liam then told me that his publicist had called to let him know there were pictures put on Instagram and Twitter of the two of us kissing at the pub last night. "Your name hasn't been mentioned, and the photos look to be shot from pretty far away on a mobile, so someone in the pub took the pictures. Sarah says they probably aren't going to tell who you are by the pictures unless someone who knows you well comes forward."

I think if my eyes bulged out of my head any further, they would have fallen out and rolled on the floor. "That quick?" It was all I could think to say.

"Yeah. It's hard to know what will come out and when. A lot of times I go out, and no one notices me, but other times I have paps or members of the public following me for hours."

"Who's Sarah?"

"My publicist." Liam reached across the bench and took my hand in his. "Are you ok?"

"You say they don't know who I am?" Liam nodded, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn't happy but what was I going to do about it? I picked at my nails. I needed to paint them; the pale pink polish was starting to chip.

"You ok?" Liam asked again

I shrugged. "Your life is weird."

Liam chucked. "You keep telling me that."

"So, what happens now?"

"Well, usually Sarah would say to private all social media, but she had a look and said she could only find a Facebook profile for you which was already private. Do you have any others? Instagram? Twitter? Snapchat?"

"No. I have a YouTube account that I use to watch videos, but that isn't linked to my real name or email. Also, a Tumblr account, again not associated with my name. And no pictures of me."

"Tumblr?" He raised an eyebrow. His fucking lip twitched.

"I was a confused 22-year-old ok?" I said a bit defensively. "I haven't used it in years," I remembered then the dating site we met on. I quickly logged on and selected the options to hide the account.

"Ok, well, there's not much else right now. A few rags called Sarah for comment. She said the standard no comment and asked for my privacy to be respected. The rest is up to you."

"Up to me?" I asked, confused. "What's up to me?"

"When you want to confirm the relationship and release your name."

"Liam, I met you less than 24 hours ago and have known you only a few months. I'm not ready for that. I like you a lot, but maybe you pick your nose and eat it, and I'll have to dump your arse tomorrow and then it's been a big song and dance over nothing." I joked. The mood had gotten too heavy for me. I wanted to talk about something else.

"Sweetheart, I'd never do that." He smiled sweetly, "I'd make you eat it."

"Ewww!" I screamed.

"Get over here." He chased me around the bench, and after a few evasions and some more squeals, he caught me. Perrin came in through the doggy door and barked at Liam a few times. Our behaviour obviously scandalised him. "Perrin," I called. "Come here, boy."

"You think your dog can save you?"

"Of course, he's very protective of my honour."

"We will see about that." Liam bent over, and I thought he was going to tackle me. Instead of flying backwards, I was hoisted forward and found myself over his shoulder. I screamed as I heard a loud crack, my hands flying to my bum.

"Did you just smack my arse?" I must admit I was finding all the manhandling arousing. I wasn't going to let him know that, though.

"Yes, I did. Want another?" Liam was heading down the hallway, taking me to the bedroom.

I giggled. "No!"

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," Liam quoted. Shakespeare sounded good with his accent. I giggled some more, and I got another one. Yes, very arousing.

Liam hummed. "I quite like the view here." He rubbed my bottom and took me into my bedroom.

I was very close to his round bum. "This view is not so bad either," I said and smacked his arse. Unfortunately, it probably hurt me more than it hurt him. His butt was tight!

Liam dropped me onto the bed at that point, and the look on his face was hysterical. I couldn't stop laughing, and tears were rolling down my face. Then I did the most embarrassing thing: I snorted.

That was it. Both of us couldn't stop. Every time I calmed enough to think I could speak, one look at Liam's face, and I'd be off again.

Eventually, we stopped, and I was able to say, "Oh my God, your face! That was so bloody funny." I wiped my eyes.

"I think that may have been the first time someone's done that to me."

"Really? Didn't you go to an all-boys school?"

"Yes, but it wasn't the US." Liam tried suppressing a grin as he said, "we got ball taps."

I tried not to laugh. I really did. "Oh, my God!" I was off again.

We watched the original Mad Max before I had to go and finish dinner. I was horrified when Liam said he hadn't seen it before. I immediately made him watch it. He said it was ok, the concept was great, but he didn't love it. I told him he needed a brain scan.

When I went to make dinner, Liam offered to help, but I told him not to be silly.

Liam sat at the kitchen bench chatting to me while I chopped and blanched the vegetables. After a while, he said he had to call Sarah and his assistant Ryan to make sure he had organised the dog walker to take Cole for a walk and play.

"Any update from Sarah?" I asked Liam when he returned. I feigned disinterest while I finished slicing the roast.

"All the same right now. Some sites have posted the pictures, saying I was spotted drinking with an "unknown female companion." The pictures have circulated a bit on Twitter, but it's mostly just by fans. They haven't hit the mainstream yet. It's all fairly standard, and it will go away by tomorrow by the looks of it."

"Good," I said. A look I couldn't interpret passed over Liam's face. He masked it pretty quickly. I opened my mouth to ask if he was ok but shut it again. I said, instead, "dinner's ready." I passed Liam his plate.

"Thank you," Liam said, leaning over to kiss me before eating. I watched as he cut up some beef and started chewing. "Pretty good. Almost as good as Mum's," he teased with a wink.

I elbowed him, and God bless him; he pretended it hurt.

We ate in silence for a while. I gave a few pieces to Perrin. He was so old, and I couldn't help but spoil him occasionally. He won't be around forever.

After dinner, Liam insisted on helping me clean up, and we stacked the dishwasher. Watching him bend over, his jeans straining as he put the plates in, stirred some feelings. Erotic feelings.

"Want to watch another movie?" He asked.

"Not really," I said. "I'm in the mood for some dessert."

"Ice-cream? I can't have any, but you can."

"Not ice-cream," I said, shaking my head. I looked at him with my very best bedroom eyes.

"What do you want then? Want me to go to the shops?" He said, not catching on. I put my arms around his waist. "If you let me borrow your car, I'll go. I can just go on my own."

"No, you wombat." I met his hips with mine, his eyes widened. "What I want is right here." I wriggled against him. Liam grinned widely, his cheeks creasing in such a sexy way.

"I thought you were shy."

"I am getting used to you," I said. "The real me is coming out." The truth of my words took me by surprise. I looked away, second-guessing myself. Why did I do that?

"I like her," Liam said hoarsely. If he hadn't spoken then, I think I would have stopped. But when his hands went into my hair, and he pulled, stretching my throat, I knew I wasn't going to stop. He kissed me there, and his teeth grazed my skin. My fingers reached under his shirt, and they gripped his back. My nails dug into his skin.

"Bedroom?" I whispered.

"Bedroom," he agreed and walked me backwards to my room.

"You promised me something earlier today," Liam said in between kisses. We were close to my bed.

"What's that?"

He stopped kissing me and cupped my face with his hands. "You said I could undress you."

Liam took hold of my t-shirt and waited. I nodded. He slowly lifted my shirt up and over my head before dropping it to the ground. He tilted his head as if contemplating and gently turned me around.

I felt Liam gather my hair and put it over my shoulder. He caressed my back with his fingertips, making me shiver with pleasure. I heard him give a satisfied hum before undoing my bra. He turned me around again and took hold of my bra straps, pulling them down my arms.

When I dropped my bra beside my shirt, Liam took a step back. He looked me up and down, his eyes hungry. I wanted to cover myself under his intense gaze, my earlier courage wavering under his scrutiny.

My arms started to move, and he gave me a stern look. "You're not thinking of hiding now, are you?"

I shook my head and forced my arms back by my sides. "Good, because I want to look. You're quite the sight." As if to emphasise his point, he adjusted himself through his pants. I felt a thrill of excitement flow through me and felt the familiar throbbing between my legs.

Liam got down on his knees and kissed my belly. His rough stubble tickled. "Your skin is so soft," he said in a low voice. He undid my jeans and kissed a trail down as he unzipped me. His breath was warm, and I felt it through the cotton of my briefs, his last kiss placed just above my slit.

It was almost agony. I moaned at his teasing breath and lips. Then Liam pulled down my underwear and kissed my mound. I felt his tongue part my lips, and when he found what he was looking for, he flattened his tongue and moaned into me.

I didn't know what to do. For a moment, I wanted to stop Liam, but it felt too good. I could feel my resolve waning. I didn't want to wait. Why should we wait? What was I waiting for? I had to stop thinking and go with it, enjoy him, enjoy the experience. I put my fingers in his hair as he licked and sucked at me. He seemed to remember what I liked, and soon I was close to my peak.

One of his fingers played at my entrance. I silently begged for Liam to put it in. My core was desperate to be filled. His finger slowly entered me, and I was lost. I needed him. At that moment, all I wanted was to feel more of him inside me, have him fill me.

I felt like this was the moment. If I don't ask Liam now, I probably never would. If I didn't want him now, why am I even allowing this to happen? I wanted him. He excited me like no one had done since Andy. He had knocked down the defences I'd built to keep myself alone. Keep me in my grief and guilt. I didn't want to be alone anymore. I wanted to feel desired again.

"Fuck me?" I asked. The words just tumbled out. I knew at that moment I would beg if I had to. "Please, Liam, I want you to fuck me."

I wasn't sure if Liam heard me. He increased his attention, and I felt the pressure building. His hand gripped my arse, his fingers digging into my cheeks as he pulled me closer to him. The short rough hair on his cheeks and chin tickled against my thighs. My legs buckled. I couldn't stand up anymore. He held me there while I panted and moaned, seeking release.

I felt my climax arrive like a bolt of lightning. It was sudden and intense. My body contracted as waves of pleasure exploded over me. Short, wordless shouts came from my mouth until it was over. I collapsed onto the bed.

I laid there a while, eyes closed, trying to catch my breath. Liam was shuffling around and heard his belt come undone. I felt the bed dip, and I opened my eyes to find Liam naked, climbing up the bed until his face was above mine.

Liam supported some of his weight with one hand and laid on me, our whole bodies skin to skin. He was warm to touch, and he almost felt hot to my now cooled skin.

"Ask me again," Liam said.

Part 8

[moonstruckbucky]

Crown of Thorns (3/?)

Summary: Arranged to be married to the great King Steven, the Reader comes to discover he is not all as she was told. He’s cold and callous and indifferent to their union. Is she really so doomed to live the rest of her life in a loveless marriage?

Pairing: King!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader, King!Steve Rogers x Peggy Carter

Warnings for Chapter: A little lighter, but not by much.

Notes: I’m sorry for the lateness of this. I’m balancing my now hectic work week and some negative headspace. Enjoy this next installment! x

Series Masterlist //  Main Masterlist

Beneath your gown, your knees quake. King Steven is even more handsome up close, practically carved from marble. He’s perfect - except for his eyes. His eyes, which stare you down, their icy blue depths void and emotionless. His jaw is tight as he appraises you, sweeping up and down your body. You feel both hot and cold under the weight of it, stomach torn between fluttering nerves and rolling nausea.

Remembering yourself, you curtsy low, managing not to stumble. When you straighten, it takes him a solid thirty seconds for him to bow at the waist. It’s a stiff movement, but he doesn’t take his eyes off you as he returns to his full height. You wish you could see what he’s thinking. Does he approve of you? Do you disgust him? He’s so carefully closed off you don’t know one way or another.

Around you, it’s silent in the hall. The noblemen and women watch on with interest, curiosity piqued that their King may have found his Queen. Your father watches on, a smile on his face that slowly fades as the two of you appraise one another. Suddenly, you’re not so sure about this at all.

You begin to feel awkward, standing before King Steven as he continues his silent appraisal, and you have to look away. Down at your hands as you fist them in your skirts, at your father who’s now looking worriedly between you.

Then the king moves, extends his arm for you to take to lead you back up the dais. You hope the utter relief doesn’t show on your face as you gently rest your hand atop his. It’s warm, but the bones and tendons are stiff, twitching, as if he’s trying to keep from balling it into a fist. He guides you slowly to your chair, now beside his so that the two of you might converse over dinner.

But you don’t.

It’s silent between you and King Steven seems to be doing all he can to avoid both looking at you and addressing you. He seems to focus somewhere off to the back of the room mostly, eyes flitting around his guests. Taking a drink from your wine, you rack your mind for a conversation starter.

“You have very beautiful horses in your country,” you begin, hope dwindling as Steven remains silent. His jaw is noticeably clenched, muscle jumping as he busies himself with food and drink. Inside your chest, your heart sinks. You try again, “Do you enjoy riding?”

Steven sighs quietly, catching the eye of someone across the room. Pursing his lips against the burn of his mead, he finally regards you. Ice-blue eyes blank, they sweep over your expression, which is quickly growing hopeful at his attention.

“Yes, I enjoy riding.” His answer is short, stiff, but you feel some relief anyways. He hasn’t relaxed, but he’s speaking to you, so you’ll take it. “Do you?”

“Oh, I-I’m afraid I haven’t had much opportunity to, Your Grace.” Now you’re a little embarrassed, broaching a topic of which you know very little. “Women aren’t permitted to ride like men are in my country.”

“Have you never sat a horse?” he asks curiously, angling his body towards yours, and you almost hate how quickly you perk up. His eyes are still guarded, but at least he’s speaking to you - a far cry from how dismissive he’d been.

When you shake your head, he almost seems amused. Something else unrecognizable passes over his eyes, but it’s gone rapidly, replaced by that stony blankness you’re beginning to dislike.

He slices into a bit of meat with his knife, speaks around a mouthful, “A Queen who can’t ride - imagine that.”

It stings, but you manage to hide it. You turn to your own food and eat slowly, your stomach rolling with discomfort, sadness, and anger. Your mother assured you he’d love you, and yet he can’t stand to be in your presence, much less hold a conversation with you. How are you supposed to marry such a man - if he’ll even agree to marry you?

While the clamor in the hall continues, you find yourself utterly alone. Steven has turned to address someone to whom you’ve not been introduced. Your parents chit chat with the nobles beside them. As you look frantically around the room, you jump at a gentle hand on your shoulder.

Sharon frowns down at you with nothing but concern, no doubt reading the growing panic on your face.

“Your Grace, are you well?” she asks, low enough that only you hear. Steven casts her a curious glance but pays her no mind, essentially blocking the two of you out by turning his back to you.

Swallowing, you straighten your shoulders and nod. You’re a princess, dammit, and you’ll present yourself as such.

“I am just fine, Sharon. Thank you.”

She wants to argue, it’s clear on her face, but after a few moments of scrutiny, she nods and backs away. You appreciate the care she already has for you, truly, but you refuse to let anyone, much less a king, make you feel small. So while King Steven continues to ignore you, you let yourself enjoy the work of his cooks.

Roasted meats, spiced vegetables, honeyed breads. You don’t indulge in too much wine, preferring to be of sound mind for the festivities. King Steven has made no attempts to engage you in conversation again, so you opt to watch the interactions. There’s laughter, jokes traded between noblemen, while the women roll their eyes and undoubtedly gossip amongst each other.

Once dinner ends, music replaces the sounds of silverware on plates. The center of the hall is opened up to a dance floor, and nobles all around the room begin to rise. Pair up and flurry about in beautiful ripples of colored fabric. The music itself is beautiful - a bit less lively than what you’re used to, but pretty regardless, and you feel yourself swaying in your seat.

Occasionally, you catch Steven watching you, an unreadable look in his eyes that you choose to disregard. The middle of the crowd opens up when a pair of enthusiastic dancers steal the show. The music picks up and the dancers twirl, leap, and spin to the new melody; you begin to clap along, a genuine laugh rippling from your throat as you watch them.

Even when you catch Steven’s eye, catch the thoughtful frown on his lips, you can’t bring yourself to stop. It’s contagious, the excited, happy energy in the room, and while your home had frequent parties, you can’t remember any of them being like this. This lively and jovial.

“My dear.” Your father’s voice makes you jump, so enchanted by the frivolity. He holds out a hand to you. “Would you do me the honor?”

Smiling, you accept your father’s hand and rise, casting a quick glance at Steven. He’s staring out at the crowd intensely, a million emotions flickering across his gaze that you don’t have the chance to identify.

The music slows, just a little, as you and your father join the throng. Your dress’s skirt billows out as your father twirls you around, leads your steps gracefully. The smile is beginning to hurt your cheeks as he dips you and spins you under his arm. His matching grin is bright, his cheeks ruddy from drink and merriment.

It’s as he’s spinning you again, the music shifting again to something faster, more upbeat that makes it harder for you to keep up, that you see Steven rise from his seat. He looks to you for only a moment, before he stares off at something on the other side of the hall, but there are too many people for you to see clearly what he’s looking at. As he steps down from the dais, his dark blonde head disappears into the crowd of people.

You’re a little disappointed that he hadn’t come to dance with you, hoping that dancing would liven him up, make him warm up to you. The feeling, though, is swept away as you’re swept around the room.

Two more lively songs pass, the last one you choose to sit out, before Steven returns again, looking flustered. His cheeks are tinged light pink, and you assume it’s from drink because he quickly downs an entire goblet of mead. The amber liquid drips down his chin towards his doublet, and it takes immense self-control not to reach out and brush it away.

So preoccupied are you with staring at Steven, that you completely miss the derisive look your father sends him from a few seats down. Steven barely spares you a glance, brushing your curiosity away with a wave of his hand for his goblet to be refilled.

You’re not sure why you say it, or where the courage comes from, but you say it anyways. “You haven’t asked me to dance.”

The change is instant. The air around you growing cold as Steven tenses. He fixes frigid, hard blue eyes on you, jaw clenched tight, and you feel yourself tremble.

“I won’t be asking you to dance,” he seethes, low and venomous.

You don’t speak another word for the remainder of the evening.

It’s a sullen walk back to your room. After Steven had so brusquely brushed you off, you took Sharon up on her offer of taking you back to your room, feigning illness. Wanda joins you, the two of them at your side, not touching as is propriety, but close enough you feel their body heat. It’s comforting, sort of, until you’re so warm you realize it’s anger.

“You told me he was kind,” you accuse Sharon, softly but firmly once back in your bedroom. She’s taken aback, rightfully so, as this is your first night. You should feel slightly guilty, attacking one of Steven’s hired help in such a way, but tonight was… Tonight was a failure, through and through. And you’re angry - hurt, and angry.

“He is, Your Grace, I assure you.” She tries to assuage you, holds out her hands in a show of vulnerability as she pleads with you. “Perhaps he… Perhaps he too is nervous. Maybe even a little unwilling?”

You take offense, and you know it shows on her face as she backtracks. Wanda, sensing Sharon’s rising anxiety and need to fix this, steps in.

“What she means, my love, is that marriage is...first and foremost, a duty. One’s duty to his kingdom, and it is not an easy notion to accept. Perhaps King Steven is as nervous and unsure as you are?”

Her answer makes sense. You twist your mouth in thought, let your anger ebb away a bit. You hadn’t thoroughly considered that marriage is as big a change for you as it is for King Steven. The pressure from the courts that he take a wife, a woman he’s never met yet is expected to spend the rest of his life with, birth children with. It’s quite a deal of pressure for both of you, and while you’re taking it in stride as best you can, His Grace seems adamant in digging in his heels.

You dismiss Sharon and Wanda after they ready you for bed, a simple cream nightdress that touches the floor. The bed itself is about the softest one you’ve ever laid in, the mattress conforming to your shape perfectly. You can’t help it, you sigh happily and hug the equally-soft pillow to your face. The furs atop the bed keep the warmth in, and it doesn’t take too long for your busy mind to shut off for the night.

[fromkaermorhentolettenhove]

The Igniting of Burgundy - Chapter 1

Next

Summary: When Geralt is offered the hand of a king’s “first-born”, he immediately refuses. 

However, he doesn’t pass over the invite to stay at the castle for a week and enjoy the luxuries of life for a little while.

By the end, what Geralt will walk away with is worth more than all the riches in the land.

Rating: Explicit

Genre: Canon Universe, Royal AU, First Meetings, Falling in Love, Porn with Plot

Words: 3281

A/N: each chapter will have their individual tags as needed. please don’t hesitate to point out tags i might have missed!!

-

AO3 

or

The slicing of the head doesn’t come soon enough. 

Black blood sprays everywhere as the body comes crashing down, the head rolling to some unknown place. Geralt kicks at the twitching body, making sure the beast is as dead as it can be. He frowns at the corpse, wishing he had only come sooner to finish it off. With all the terror it had been causing, Geralt is surprised he’s the first Witcher to take it on. 

Wiping his sword off in the grass, Geralt then sheaths it and sets off to finding Roach. She had run off when the commotion started, but luckily she hasn’t gone far. Giving her a pat, Geralt climbs onto her and sets back to the town, ready to collect his pay. It had been a frantic villager, calling out for a witcher the moment he had set foot in the market, begging for his help. It was too convenient, as if spies had been watching him from the start, and so, Geralt keeps his guard as he passes through the looming gates.

He chooses the first tavern he comes upon, waiting in a corner for the one who had hired him. 

It is night when they arrive at last and something isn’t right. Geralt readies himself for the worst. 

“The king requests an audience with you,” they start, hands wringing together

“You never said anything about the king,” Geralt bites. 

He shoots up from the table, marches to the door, but a hand on his arm stops him. 

“He just wants to thank you,” the villager attempts to reassure. “Pay you much more generously than we can.”

With a grunt, Geralt shakes off the hand and goes to collect Roach from the stables. He won’t be able to make a quick getaway. Not without some unnecessary damage. When the villager lingers behind, Geralt gives them a stern glare. 

“Well?” he motions. 

He doesn’t know this town, much less the way to the king’s castle, and while he doesn’t trust even the smallest speck of dust in this village, he really doesn’t see any other option. He wants his coin.

“Right,” the villager rushes to lead the way. 

When Geralt reaches the castle gate, guards stand at attention while others watch him with a wary eye. The villager finds some excuse to leave and Geralt is left at the mercy of the king’s guards. That is until the king comes bustling into the courtyard, greeting Geralt like an old friend. The air is still frigid and Geralt keeps a hand close to his dagger.

“I must apologize for not coming myself,” the king explains as he leads Geralt to a small library. “A king’s work never stops and my papers bested me.”

The king shuts the door on his guards’ faces and Geralt has to bite back a laugh. If the king is so easy to trust him, then he is really amongst fools. The king sits at a desk, finishes signing a few documents as Geralt stands, unable to do much else. With a satisfactory nod, the king finally looks up at Geralt.

“You have done us a great service, Witcher,” the king says, hands folded on the desk in front of him. “Had you not killed the beast, who knows how long my people would have suffered.”

Geralt gives a short nod, but no more. It’s all in a day’s work and with lives saved for the day, Geralt considers it a win. Now, if only he could get his coin, then he’d be more grateful to get out of everyone’s hair.

“I would like to show you my gratitude, but you mustn’t feel obliged to accept,” the king continues on. 

With pursed lips, Geralt waits for some trick, something to tie him down to this castle. 

“I offer you the hand of my first born.”

Blinking, Geralt collects his thoughts, trying his best to be polite. Of all things, this is outlandish and stupidity rolled into one. No one would want to be with a witcher in such a way, willing or not.

“I’d rather not force them into a marriage they haven’t agreed to,” Geralt manages through clenched teeth.

The king nods with raised eyebrows. Geralt can’t imagine what the king expected him to reply with, barely managing to hold down his scowl. Old traditions were becoming tiresome and Geralt hopes in time, they’ll be well rid of. 

“Quite, yes,” the king muses. “Then please, accept the hospitality of my castle. Stay for the week and rest.”

Geralt’s immediate reaction is to refuse. He’s already wasted enough time as it is and he’d rather not get caught up in anything else. The king waits for his answer, patient and unaware of the frustration that brews under Geralt’s exterior.

Then again, it’s not often he’s treated like a guest, giving a luxury such as this. To pass up the opportunity might bring up regret later and Geralt settles into his decision. At the very least, Roach will be happy in a king’s stable. 

Geralt nods again and the king stands with a smile. 

“Come,” he motions, holding out an arm. 

Geralt finds himself walking alongside the king who chats about what seems of little importance. With any looming threats beginning to fade, Geralt drops his guard, but not by much.

The king opens a door and Geralt is greeted by the sight of a room, decorated beyond anything he’s seen in his time. Tapestries drape the walls except for one that holds large windows that look out to the ocean beyond. 

There is a fireplace on one side, two armchairs sitting in front of it with a shared table between them. Directly across from that is a four-poster bed lined with red curtains and Geralt squints as he spots a private bath quarter from behind a small door. 

 “I hope this meets your expectations,” the king smiles. 

It’s more than that and Geralt almost feels guilty for occupying such a space. He’ll tarnish it in an instant, be thrown out like a wild animal. He holds his breath as he takes a few steps in and when nothing comes crashing down, Geralt tries to relax. 

“Dinner will be brought up to you,” the king says before he closes the door. 

Geralt stares at the closed door before he steps over to the bed, taking off his weapons first. The armor comes next and Geralt’s bones are tired. He thinks to lay on the bed without eating, but there is a gnawing in his stomach that he hasn’t noticed until now. Taking a seat by the fireplace, Geralt lets himself sink into the cushions as he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. His mind scurries about with plans of what’ll happen after this week, where he’s needed next. 

A knock on the door cuts his thoughts short and Geralt starts to get up before the door flies open. 

“Hello, I’ve brought you your dinner!”

Geralt stares at the man who sets a tray on the small table next to Geralt’s chair. His smile is inviting, warm, almost contradicting the blue eyes that sparkle with excitement. The mop of brown hair on his head moves with his energy supported by a strong build that floats with every step. 

“I hope this is satisfactory to your tastes,” the man beams through his scripted words. 

Looking down at the tray, Geralt finds his hunger growing at the sight of roasted meat and potatoes, a mug of ale and a small bowl of soup. He’s ready to dig in, but not with this man hovering over him. 

“I’ll draw you a bath while you eat,” the man begins to walk away with a slight hop.

“Why?” is all Geralt can ask and he frowns at the head tilt he gets in return. 

“Well, surely you’re in need of one.”

“No, I mean,” Geralt clenches a fist as he finds his words. “Why are you here?”

The man laughs a little at this. “I’m your servant for the night. The whole week if you’d like.”

“I don’t need one,” Geralt is quick to reply. 

When he had agreed to the king’s invitation, he had expected to be left alone. Not taken care of every step of the way. 

“Well, alright then,” the man shrugs, but there is a somber note on the edge of his words. 

As he starts to leave, questions rise in Geralt’s mind. He shouldn’t care, doesn’t care, and yet, his mouth still opens. 

“Wait.”

The man freezes immediately, turning on his heel to face Geralt. His face radiates curiosity and Geralt knows he’s going to regret whatever happens next. 

“What’s your name?” Geralt says after a brief pause. 

“Jaskier,” the man grins and braces his forearms on the back of the other chair, leaning forward a little. “Yours?”

“Geralt.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier repeats and a shiver runs down Geralt’s spine. 

He furrows his brows, untrusting of his mind and body clearly working against each other. He just wants to be alone yet he’s drawn into whatever this man–Jaskier–is. Come to think of it, the last decent bath he had was villages ago and he could do with bathing in something that isn’t river water. 

As if sensing Geralt’s hesitation, Jaskier slowly makes his way to the bath quarters, glancing over his shoulder. 

“Thank you,” is all Geralt can manage and with that, Jaskier hurries in, the muffled sounds of bottles and running water just reaching to where Geralt sits. 

In an attempt to distract his mind, Geralt focuses on his meal, appreciative of the hot food, the delicacies only a king would have. Geralt remembers the raw deer he had just a few days ago and he slows down his frantic eating, focusing instead on the flavors and each bite.

Once his meal is finished, Geralt is practically pounced upon by Jaskier who drags him into the bath quarters. If it wasn’t for all the suddenness, Geralt would take time to appreciate the warmth of Jaskier’s hand on his arm. 

“I can wash myself,” Geralt says when Jaskier doesn’t leave the room. 

“I know, but I want to help with your hair. You have a few bad tangles,” Jaskier replies, as if he had expected Geralt to say that. 

With a smile, Jaskier turns around, busying himself with sorting the collection of bottles. Taking this moment of privacy, Geralt undresses and sinks into the hot water, a small hum leaving him. His aching muscles stretch out and Geralt almost forgets he’s not alone until a bucket of water is poured over his head. 

Geralt thinks to tell Jaskier off, but before he can, strong hands scrub at his scalp, working soap into his hair. It’s nice, really. Jaskier is rough, but it’s a pleasant sting. When Jaskier pulls his hands back, Geralt almost protests until his hair is rinsed and the hands are back, carefully undoing the tangles in his hair. 

“Was it difficult?” Jaskier breaks the silence. 

“Was what difficult?”

“The beast. After all, you’re the only one to come back alive and with it slain as well.”

A rumble of a laugh leaves Geralt. “Whoever the king sent before was too weak. That kind of creature isn’t to be trifled with, but they’re not the most deadly creature in our world.”

“Really?” Jaskier’s voice pitches with his surprise.

Geralt shrugs, grunting a little as Jaskier pulls at a particularly nasty tangle. 

“Sorry,” Jaskier apologies, drawing his hands back. 

Not wanting to lose the feeling of Jaskier’s hands, Geralt shakes his head. “Didn’t hurt.”

Their eyes meet and they stare, almost challenging, until Jaskier breaks first.

“If you say so.”

His attention is back on Geralt’s hair and Geralt hates how his heart leaps. 

He shouldn’t be this desperate, this needy, but every little touch from Jaskier reminds him what he doesn’t have when he’s on the road. Brothels take care of some of that urge, occasionally Geralt finds himself in the company of someone for more than a day, yet it’s nothing compared to the gentle care of Jaskier, this attention that’s all for him. 

“There we are,” Jaskier pats Geralt’s shoulder. 

Getting to his feet, Jaskier grabs a towel and holds it out for Geralt, a small smile still decorating his face. 

Geralt is tempted to just snatch it away from Jaskier but he stands and accepts Jaskier’s choice of wrapping the towel around his waist. He can feel the heat that radiates off Jaskier, the slight tinge of pink to his cheeks. Geralt’s mind spins in treacherous ways and he steps out of the tub, rushes out of the bath quarters before he can let himself go any farther. 

“Will you need any more of my assistance?” Jaskier follows Geralt, standing just a breath away. 

Geralt knows he shouldn’t, not while he’s a guest of the king and when this is one of the servants. 

“I have other things I can offer,” Jaskier’s voice is low.

His hand reaches out and traces along Geralt’s chest. The touch is like fire, sending sparks as their faces inch closer. It’s too much and Geralt lets himself fall into temptation. The two meet in a heavy kiss, tongues immediately shoving into each other’s mouths, a small whine escaping from Jaskier. 

Jaskier’s breath hitches when Geralt grabs his hips, pulling them closer together. Geralt can feel a hardening cock press against his thigh and he pushes his leg up, holding back his grin as Jaskier desperately grinds down. 

Breaking the kiss, Geralt kisses Jaskier’s jaw before mouthing at his neck, shivering at the small whimper he gets as he nibbles at a pulse point. When Geralt bites down, both men shudder, their grips on each other tightening. Geralt licks and sucks until a purple bruise begins to form and he gives it a firm kiss as if to seal it there.

Backing towards the bed, Geralt lays down when he feels the bed against his legs and lets Jaskier crawl on top of him, swallowing as he allows Jaskier to take the lead. 

Jaskier mouths at Geralt’s chest before he takes one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around until it becomes a stiff nub. Geralt arches into the touch, breaths cut short as Jaskier pinches and flicks the other nipple. It’s over all too soon, but Geralt doesn’t have a chance to protest as Jaskier kisses his way down Geralt’s body and he frees Geralt from the towel around his waist. 

There is an audible gasp and Geralt holds himself back from rolling his eyes. Yes, he’s larger than most, but he’s not impossibly huge. 

Glancing down at Jaskier, Geralt’s breath hitches as Jaskier laps at the tip of his cock, eyes staring back. Their gazes remain locked as Jaskier takes more of Geralt into his mouth, occasionally dragging his mouth back up and this sends Geralt’s mind spinning. 

Propped up on his elbows, Geralt can only watch and become lost in his pleasure as Jaskier wraps his hand around the base of his cock, his mouth meeting the hand as they move opposite of each other.

It’s almost too much, but Geralt doesn’t want Jaskier to stop. His hand flies to Jaskier’s hair and he pulls a moan from Jaskier as he grips tight. Geralt can’t help his thrusting hips, the growing need and urgency, but Jaskier makes no protest and Geralt comes, seed filling Jaskier’s mouth. 

To his shock, Jaskier swallows all of it, pulling off Geralt with a sharp pop. There is a lazy grin on his face and wipes off the drool that lingers on his chin. 

“I’m glad I could be of service, Geralt,” Jaskier teases and Geralt sits up, dragging him into a passionate kiss. 

As they embrace, Geralt lets one hand search and feel, untucking Jaskier’s chemise and running his hand along Jaskier’s stomach and chest. Jaskier moans, breaks their kiss to beg against Geralt’s mouth and really, who is he to deny such pleas?

Jaskier motions for Geralt to sit back and once Geralt does, Jaskier shuffles off of him, hastily takes off his clothes. Before he rids himself of his breeches, he pulls out a vial from one of the pockets and clutches it tight in his hand. Then, he’s back on Geralt, perched on his stomach. 

“You were expecting this?” Geralt prods. 

“Never can be too sure,” Jaskier grins and pours a generous amount of oil on his fingers. 

Reaching behind himself, Jaskier starts his preparation, body shuddering as he pushes a finger inside. Geralt wants to see more, but if Jaskier has a process, he doesn’t want to interrupt that. Instead, he runs his hands up and down Jaskier’s sides, heartbeat quickening at the sighs that leave Jaskier. 

“Wish you had come by sooner,” Jaskier breathes as he fingers himself open. “I’ve been dreaming about something like this.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow and this gets a small laugh out of Jaskier that is cut off by a moan. A hand splays itself on Geralt’s chest, fingers curling as Jaskier pushes another finger in. It’s not long before Jaskier is thrusting his fingers deep inside himself, moans growing louder as he hits the right spot inside of him. 

Geralt thinks it’s the most beautiful sight in the world. He can’t help reach up to Jaskier’s face, cupping it in one hand. Jaskier smiles back, kisses Geralt’s palm before he pulls his fingers out and slides down Geralt’s body. 

Having forgotten about his own cock, Geralt shifts when Jaskier coats it in oil, but quickly matches Jaskier’s ministrations. Then, Jaskier is lowering himself down on Geralt’s cock and Geralt sees stars. Sitting up, Geralt holds Jaskier close, moving his hips up as Jaskier slides down. Moans and gasps mingle together, Jaskier’s arms thrown around Geralt’s shoulders as the pace picks up. 

Jaskier’s cock is trapped between them, smearing precome on both their stomachs and Geralt pulls back just enough so he can take hold of Jaskier’s cock. 

“Yes, fuck, like that,” Jaskier moans, slamming down on Geralt. 

With a growl, Geralt maneuvers them on the bed to where Jaskier is laying on his back, his legs wrapped tight around Geralt’s waist. Geralt wants to remember this moment forever, blue, lust-ridden eyes staring up at him, heavy moans leaving that perfect mouth when Geralt thrusts into Jaskier. His hips snap, skin slaps together, as Geralt holds himself over Jaskier, fucking him into the bed. 

Jaskier’s head lolls, moans growing louder. Geralt wants to see Jaskier come and he takes hold of Jaskier’s cock again, pumping him just as fiercely as his thrusting hips. 

With a near shout, Jaskier succumbs to his orgasm, back arching off the bed and white stripes coating his stomach and chest. The clench of Jaskier around Geralt’s cock is just enough to send him spiraling into his own release and he fills Jaskier with sharp thrusts. 

The two lay panting, foreheads pressed together as they come down from their high. When Geralt pulls out of Jaskier and lays down on the bed, he’s surprised to find Jaskier scooting close to him, wiping the two of them off with the discarded towel. 

“You are wonderful, Geralt,” Jaskier praises, kissing Geralt’s neck. 

Geralt’s not so sure, but what he does hold certainty in is that Jaskier is perfect. A string of sadness tugs at his heart knowing that in a week, he’ll have to leave this. As Jaskier lays his head on Geralt’s chest, Geralt holds him close, letting himself fade into the warmth. 

For now, he just needs to embrace this and for one night, not let his worries occupy his mind.

[bokumonoexchange]

Family Traditions

Hey there, @beck-a-leck! I was super glad to see you’d be interested in some good old Hector & Colin interaction. I adore those two and I adored the opportunity to write them. I also lurked on your AO3 to get a better idea for what you might like, and I saw you had an interest in some Hector/Holly stuff, sooooo…I threw in a bit of Potential there as little a treat. Please enjoy! Sorry for the late!

>>Read the story on ao3<< or go under the cut!!

Another splash, and Hector half rose from his lawn chair, ready to dive into the river to save his drowning son.

“I’m all right!” Colin assured him, high-pitched words tumbling over each other. “I just—I just lost the fish again, Pa.”

Hector sank back down, huffing in disapproval to mask his concern. He went back to whittling, as if he hadn’t, for an awful moment, worried another family member had been swept out of his life. “Gotta stand your ground, son.”

“I—I know!” Colin insisted. “These fish keep takin’ my bait. Pa, you reckon they’re hungrier than us?”

These last few seasons, the Westown river had been flowing cleaner and livelier than it had since—since Colin was born. Hector figured the fish were eating better than ever. He shook his head, even though Colin, still plonked by the riverbank, wasn’t looking his way. “You don’t have the bait on right. That’s all.”

“I’m no good at this. I can’t do anythin’ right at all.”

Here he goes.

“Takes time to master a craft,” Hector grunted before the tears crackling in Colin’s voice could spill. “Takes patience.”

Silence from the riverbank. Cicadas rasped in the trees above them, hidden away in thick, dark leaves. Sunlight lasted longer these days, but dinnertime never changed its hour. And Hector’s stomach was starting to gnaw itself at the edges. He tried to remind himself of his own patience, too.

“Pa,” Colin started to say. Hector grunted for him to continue, scraping his whittling knife along the thin strip of wood. “Did you have to…take time with yer whittlin’? For me and my appliqués?”

“Yep,” Hector said. He set aside the finished barbeque skewer and reached for the next strip of wood.

“Does that make whittlin’ those skewers easy now?”

“Yep.”

More silence. Sure didn’t sound like any fishing was getting done over there.

“Won’t have much use for these here skewers if ya don’t catch us somethin’ to skewer,” Hector reminded him, and with a squeak of dismay, Colin rebaited his line.

Their family barbeque was shaping up to be a good one, if Colin ever managed to get his rear in gear and catch them at least one hefty-sized fish. There was nothing like the clean summer taste of roasted carp, his ma’s macaroni salad, and coleslaw from Frank’s last spring cabbage crop. Marco said he might make it down, but Hector knew his hip had been hurting from last night’s rain. Frank had canceled, too, since one of his ewes was due for a new lamb and he was worried, as her last birth had been a rough one.

But the menu was still shaping up right fine, and if their yearly barbeque was just going to be him, his ma, and his son? Well, Hector couldn’t complain at all.

“Having fun out here?”

Hector only just managed to stamp down on his alarm. Good thing, too: this whittling knife had a taste for careless fingers. Holly, the other farmer, stood smiling above him. Apparently, she had decided to make use of the good summer weather: a fishing rod was slung over one shoulder and a fishing pail tight in her grip.

“Holly,” he greeted her. Holly’s smile grew, like he’d shown more enthusiasm than he had. She turned towards the river, shading her eyes against the glaring sunset even under her wide-brimmed hat.

“You’re not out there with him?” she asked, pointing to Colin. Hector huffed and shaved a piece of bark a little too roughly.

“Gotta learn how to do things on his own.”

“Oh, I—I didn’t mean to be rude,” Holly hurried to say. Hector glanced up again, surprised to see an embarrassed flush dusting her cheeks. “He’s a smart kid!”

Huh. Why in the world would she be feeling awkward about that? Hector furrowed his brows, which only served to make Holly fidget more. The hard-cut bark shaving drifted off his corduroy pants and onto his boot, and—oh. In the echoes of his memory, his voice had sounded defensive…

“Didn’t mean to be rude myself,” Hector half-apologized. “Good of you to be concerned for him, farmer.”

“It’s Holly by now, isn’t it?” she smiled again, and when he only grunted, she seemed to take that as an excellent excuse to plop herself on a log next to the freshly-dug firepit. And she didn’t seem to need to say anything more than that. No comments on the weather. No mention of the unused fishing gear in her hands. No chit-chat of nothing.

Instead, they sat in silence. No, not silence: the cicadas still sang their cacophonous melody; the river still gurgled; Colin still sighed every time a splashing fish broke free. Even the rhythmic scraping of his whittling knife on wood felt like it could say more about this fine summer air than Hector could put into words.

“Sorry I ain’t much of a conversationalist,” Hector did finally feel the need to say. Now it was Holly’s turn to jerk from her peaceful perch on the log.

“Sure you are,” she said with enough conviction Hector wanted to believe her. “You just say what needs telling, that’s all.”

True enough, but now Hector had no idea what to say to that. Better to keep an eye on Colin now anyway; he’d finished plenty of skewers for the barbeque he hoped still would happen. Hector set them all down and tucked his whittling knife back in his belt. As his eyes drifted towards his son, tugging on another splashing line like he was saving a dog from a well, movement in Holly’s general vicinity proved her eyes were doing the same.

Just in time, too: with a whoop of triumph, Colin yanked his first prize from the water. “Look, Pa!” he yelled, whirling around with it still on the hook, not in the pail.

“Colin, ya gotta—”

Colin caught sight of Holly’s proud gaze, and of course, all that jubilance fizzled out of him, replaced by that paralyzing timidity that he wasn’t yet managing to break. He fumbled with the line, with the hook, with the bait, and the fish leapt back into the safety of its watery home once more.

“Colin.”

Hector never could figure out how to make his sighs more of an exhale than a growl.

Colin sniffed. “Pa…Pa, Miz…Miz Holly, I…I c-can’t, I didn’t mean no—”

“You did really great, Colin!” Holly interrupted him with so much gentleness the glistening shine left Colin’s huge, miserable eyes. “You almost had it.”

“Yeah, yeah, almost…” Colin repeated. But right away, his lip trembled. “B-but I couldn’t right manage—”

“That just means you’ll get it next time! Come on then. Can I help out?” Holly was already rising from the log almost before Colin started nodding. She picked up her rod and pail again and joined him by the riverbank, telling him in soft tones how he didn’t have the bait on right. Softer and more patiently than Hector had managed. Colin kept nodding along with each of her instructions, wrapping his line finally the correct way and letting her fix his stance. Holly kept him steady, hands on his back just brushing his shoulders. Distant enough Hector doubted Colin could feel it. Close enough she could catch him if he stumbled.

Hector only realized he’d been staring at them far too long when Holly glanced over her shoulder, fixing him with a goofy smile and a merry little wave. And of course his immediate response was to scowl and look away. Right away, he wished he could turn back and make some sort of apologetic acknowledgement back, maybe even a hand raised of his own, but Holly had her back turned to him and was helping Colin slowly, slowly reel what seemed like a promising catch from the far end of the river.

It was safe now to scowl in private, then. Hector busied himself with collecting stones for the firepit so he couldn’t dwell on any lingering embarrassment.

Colin squeaked something incomprehensible from this distance. “Good work, Colin, you almost have it,” Holly’s lilting response drifted over even to where Hector was rustling about for proper-sized rocks. A smile, a true smile twitched on Hector’s lips, when Colin exclaimed something back, no longer timid or ashamed.

Westown had been a far lonelier place before Holly had shown up, especially in this part of town. It wasn’t just Holly who’d moved in, sure: plenty of new faces had rolled on in, too, either on vacation or to set up new shops. Hector tossed the rocks towards the firepit and began arranging them in a neat, orderly circle. A splash, two cheers, and rapid-fire chitchat alerted him of Colin’s very first catch.

Still. For all Westown’s new liveliness—and Tsuyukusa and Lulukoko, so he’d heard—Hector knows this town’s all the better for having Farmer Holly in it now. It just wouldn’t be the same without her, without all these new fresh crops, these new fresh friends from far-flung faces, these new fresh emotions shining on his son’s face Hector had never seen blossom so quickly.

It’d do Colin some good to hear that, he reckoned. Holly too, of course. But because Hector’s mouth was too hungry to be capable of politeness or praise, what came out instead was, “Y’all gonna be done soon, or do we gotta roast up nothin’ but macaroni?”

“Um,” Colin called back, but he cut off his own excuses with another excited cry and began reeling in another fish. Holly stepped back even more, letting Colin claim a fully independent victory over nature. She tucked her hair behind her ear under her hat and smiled so big at Hector he froze in place.

“Probably just one more,” she said while Colin’s defeated foe joined the last in the pail. “He tempted two big old beauties! Plenty of good stuff on them, I’d say.”

Hector grumbled and mumbled and fiddled with the kindling until she went back to watch Colin’s confidence grow. Just within his earshot, the tell-tell screech of the screen door announced his ma’s approach.

“What’s takin’ y’all so long?” she huffed in lieu of greeting. Hector prepared to defend himself and his son, but before he could formulate any sort of response, Holly and Colin’s voices drew attention to them both and away from any of his excuses. “Well, aren’t they babbling like a brook,” Ma mused, crossing her arms over her chest.

Why she wore a cardigan even in this stifling summer heat, Hector would never dare to ask. “Brook’s babbling full of fish,” he said. “Reckon they’ll be done soon.”

Ma cackled. “Promises, promises. Oh, that sweet Colin of yours…”

“He’ll keep it,” Hector said. “Boy’s in good hands. Can see that plain as day.” He stood up, stretched, and headed towards the house to collect the rest of the barbeque spread and plates.

“Hm.” Ma was still watching the two fishing experts perform their duty when Hector returned, juggling far too many bowls, jugs, and tableware than safe. Fortunately, Ma didn’t notice, which meant she couldn’t lecture him. No, all she said was, “This town really feels like some kinda family now, don’t it?” and Hector had lucked out by just finishing setting their cornucopia in a proper, less-dangerous array on the biggest felled log.

Hector, a taciturn man on a good day and a surly one the rest of the time, simply had no reply to that. Fortunately, Ma didn’t seem to need one, because now came the lecture on how much he’d carried himself, why couldn’t he just ask for even the littlest bit of help, she’s not so feeble she can’t take care of her son even a little more…

By the time Ma had worn herself out with her affectionate nagging, Hector had finished lighting the fire and had begun gathering the fresh skewers. “Gotta soak these,” he said needlessly.

Ma sighed. She sounded just like him sometimes. Even Hector could tell. “Then you got all these here dishes out too soon. Flies’ll be at ‘em before you know it.”

“Two of ‘em’ll be done soon, I said,” Hector protested again. Ma, for some strange reason, smiled, soft and warm. She patted his arm without commentary.

“Kids,” she called over to the riverbank duo, “don’t keep your elders waitin’ too long, y’hear? I’m so famished I may just waste away!”

“Gram!” was Colin’s distressed cry, but Holly shushed him and placed his hands back on the reel.

“Don’t go teasin’, Ma.”

“Boy’s gotta learn manners from someone.” Ma patted his arm again with another twinkle in her eye. “Sure didn’t learn ‘em from my son. Didn’t even invite her to dinner, did ya? Terrible manners as ever.”

“Ma!” Hector exclaimed, wincing as he realized he’d sounded exactly like Colin, tone and pitch and all. Ma wheezed another laugh. He cleared his throat as if he could muster up his dignity that way and almost muttered something about where’d she think he learned his manners from, if not his own parent…

But one look Colin’s way, with his own expression and gleeful, beaming smile at Holly while they wrangled the last fish into the bucket made Hector and his deep scowl decide to keep his trap shut. It had served him well in the past, and it’d serve him well again.

“C’mere, you two,” he called over to them instead. They obeyed, Holly reminding Colin not to walk too fast with a bucket of still-wriggling fish. “Sit down,” he said, and brought out a second knife. “Me and Holly, we’re gonna show you how to clean a fish, aren’t we? Family barbeque tradition.” Holly’s eyes widened, lips parting surely to make some sort of protest. Hector mustered all his strength and continued, “Won’t hear nothin’ to the contrary. You’re family, ain’t ya?”

“Yes,” Holly agreed after only a heartbeat’s worth of silence. “Yeah, we are.”

[a-splash-of-stucky]

Priorities (6) - Epilogue

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky has a surprise for you.

Warnings: Floooooof. So much floof my heart is filled with it.

WC: 1.3k

Notes: The finale is here! Thank you so much to everyone who’s followed along with this series, your comments have made me giggle and laugh and snort — I love y’all so much. Enjoy this last part, fam.

Written for @buckyofthemyscira’s 5k Disney Writing Challenge.

Series Masterlist | My Masterlist | Tags are open, add yourself here

It’s been a good day.

You’ve put up a new blogpost, you’ve brainstormed some designs for your spring sticker collection, and to top it all off, you’ve just had a productive meeting with Peter, your web-designer extraordinaire. He’s come up with some amazing ideas to revamp the Sunshine’s Creations site, and you’re excited to implement all the changes that he’s suggested.

Thus, it’s no wonder that you have a huge smile on your face as you toe off your shoes and hang up your coat. The apartment is filled with the warm, comforting smell of a roast dinner, and there’s some mellow, chilled-out music playing over the speakers.

You head into the kitchen to find Bucky cheerfully humming to the music as he pulls a roasting dish out of the oven. He’s wearing a white undershirt and a pair of grey sweatpants that are riding dangerously low on his hips. There’s a strip of exposed skin between his undershirt and pants, and it’s an incredibly distracting sight.  

“Hey honey!” Bucky calls over his shoulder, “Be with you in a sec.”

You lean against counter and watch as he sets sets the dish onto a heat-proof mat to cool down. Bucky pulls off his oven mitts, tosses them onto the countertop, then saunters over to you.

“Hey,” he says softly, lips quirking into a smile as he bends down and gives you a welcome-home peck on the lips.

“Hey yourself,” you murmur, snaking your arms around his waist to tug him closer, pulling him in for a proper kiss. He laughs, but doesn’t resist as you card your fingers through the short hairs at the nape of his neck and press your lips together.

“Smells great,” you tell him, when you finally break apart. “Need any help?”

Bucky shakes his head no. “Nah, I’m almost done — just gotta finish off the gravy. Why don’t you go and get changed?”

“‘Kay — I’ll be back in a bit.”

Eager to get back to Bucky as soon as possible, you dash into the bedroom to change out of your day clothes into something comfier; a pair of black leggings and one of  Bucky’s old t-shirts. You also wipe off your makeup and clip your hair out of your face.

Once you’ve finished getting un-ready, you take your phone out of your purse, turn if off, then put it and your laptop away in your home office.

There’ll be no devices to distract you, tonight.

This is a new thing that you and Bucky have been trying to do every week; putting away all your devices and disconnecting completely from the outside world for a few hours. You’ve missed the little pleasures that come with simply enjoying each other’s company, so this is a great way to strengthen your bond as a couple. Blackout Nights, as Bucky’s taken to calling them, are just one of the many things that both of you are doing to patch up your relationship.

When you shuffle back into the kitchen, you find that Bucky has plated up two enormous servings of food, and drenched everything in a glossy, dark-brown gravy. Your stomach rumbles in anticipation.

“It looks amazing,” you tell him, as you come up to him from behind and wrap your arms around his waist. You drop a kiss between his shoulder blades, then turn to press your cheek to his back. Bucky laughs softly, one hand coming to rest on top of your folded ones.

“Thanks, doll — you hungry?” he asks.

“Fuckin’ starving.”

He barks out a laugh. “Okay, then — grab a plate and head to the couch. I’ve already put your drink on the coffee table.”

You hum appreciatively, giving Bucky one more squeeze before letting him go. “You’re the best.”

After grabbing some cutlery, your carry your plate over to the living room and curl up in your favourite spot on the couch. Bucky joins you soon after, squeezing himself into the gap between your body and the arm rest; he’s close enough that your thighs are pressed firmly together.

“Not a bad way to spend a Friday evening, huh?” he asks.

“Not at all,” you agree, as you pierce a carrot with your fork.

What’s not to love? You’re about to have a quiet evening at home, with Bucky’s complete and undivided attention on you — it’s everything you’d wanted during those turbulent times in your relationship and more.

“Hey,” Bucky says suddenly, knocking elbows with you.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to say I love you.”

“Sap,” you mutter, even as you lean over to kiss him silly.

—

The dirty plates have been dumped into a sink and a fluffy blanket has been draped over your entangled legs. Your head is pillowed on Bucky’s chest and your ass is precariously close to his groin — perhaps in a few minutes time, that situation could lead to something steamier.

For now, Bucky takes comfort in your weight on top of him, and breathes in the sweet fragrance of your shampoo. His fingers are intertwined with yours, resting on your belly; life could not be more perfect.

“We should go on a holiday,” you murmur drowsily, pulling Bucky out of his thoughts. “We haven’t gone somewhere nice for a while.”

Bucky hums in agreement. “Funny you should say that now — I’ve just put in a request to take ten days of leave at the end of November.”

“Really?” you ask, intrigued.

“Yeah, just waiting for HR to process it. Let’s go to Puerto Rico — or anywhere with a beach, really. Somewhere warm, with shitty cell reception.”

You bark out a laugh as you turn around to face him, planting one hand in the centre of his chest to steady yourself. You’ve got a glimmer of excitement in your eyes and a wide grin on your face.

“Shitty cell reception so that no one can call you about work?” you guess.

Bucky grins as he leans forward to gently bump his nose against yours. “Exactly.”

Your face crinkles into a smile, one that reaches all the way to your eyes. “M’kay. I’d like that.”

He bites his lip as he smoothes your hair away from your face, buying some time before he tells you the news that he’s been dying to say ever since you stepped through the front door.

“What is it?” you ask, brows furrowing in concern, “You look like you’re about to confess a murder, or something.”

He huffs a laugh and shakes his head, marvelling at how you can read him so easily.

“I...had a chat with Tony, today,” he say slowly, “About that promotion I’ve been going on about.”

Your eyebrows twitch with interest, but besides that, you give no other reaction.

“Basically, he gave me his final offer — and the pay would’ve been great, don’t get me wrong, but I turned it down.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. Before you can open your mouth to speak, Bucky rushes to continue.

“I turned down the extra money, but I bargained for something else — and I think you’ll like this.”

“What did you ask for?” you ask, your eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Extra leave — paid leave,” Bucky replies. “We had a bit of back and forth, but eventually, Stark agreed to 15 days of paid leave, in addition to what I already have.”

“You’re serious?” you ask excitedly.

Bucky nods, as a wide grin bursts across his face. “Completely serious, honey. Same pay, same workload—”

“Same team! God, you’ll still have to put up with Sam—”

“Eh, he’s not actually that bad,” Bucky says. “Same everything, except I’m now contractually obligated to take more days off to spend with you.”

Your smile broadens as you sling your arms around his neck, bringing your faces just a hair’s breadth apart. “Best. News. Ever,” you declare, before planting a firm kiss to his lips.

A small laugh rumbles out of Bucky’s chest as he tightens his arms around you, holding you close.

He let you go once before, and it was the biggest heartbreak he’d ever been forced to experience.

He’s not planning on letting you go again anytime soon. You’re his priority now.

[hoyoungy]

blocked.zip | soonyoung (i)

genre: comedy, “fbi agent” au | fbi agent!soonyoung x reader summary: you’ve gotten away with downloading a lot of copyrighted content in the past, but now the fbi agent assigned to you has had enough of it word count: 1738 a/n: you know that fbi agent joke thing going around? i thought it was funny and soonyoung’s funny so i mean it fits. this is a word vomit. warnings include swearing

part ii

“Ugh,” you groaned as you tried to ‘legally’ download a youtube file as a .mp3 format for the third time. Each time you tried, the unusually usual mysterious and invisible window would pop up on the screen for a second and disappear the next, with you stuck on the same website and the file failing to download.

“Can’t you just buy the song?” your roommate asked as she sat across from you at the dining table.

“And throw away like, $2.00? No, thanks.”

“Pirating files is super dangerous these days! Haven’t you seen the news? There are like, FBI agents that are watching you through your webcam. Or-or how your phone and Google can detect your voice, hear what you’re saying while you’re just having a casual conversation, and show you ads that are similar? Watch, let’s test it out,” she said, clearing her throat. “Oh, no! Looks like we ran out of coffee. I really wish we had some coffee right now! I love light roast and blond coffee blends -”

“Shut up, you really believe in that stuff?” you scoffed as you properly categorized your newly downloaded song file in your library.

“Of course I do! Didn’t you see that one video where that girl bought a laptop online and the camera was always on, but she ignored it and went about her day, but a couple of months later, some creep broke into her house and murdered her!?”

“Well, yeah, that was scary… but I taped over the webcam! That has nothing to do with me trying to enjoy my favorite band’s music for free. Appreciating art shouldn’t cost so much money. And besides, this isn’t some post-Y2K paranoia era anymore. Remember when we were so scared as kids when we pirated songs off of Limewire? The FBI has become way more lenient these days ~”

“Whatever you say, _____, but don’t say I didn’t warn you when some weirdo American gets access to your webcam and watches you changing ~”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you muttered. “Ok, on to their next album…”

“Soonyoung, what the hell!” Jihoon scolded him in his office. A slumped and embarrassed Soonyoung sat in front of Jihoon’s desk as he listened to yet another lecture about not keeping a close eye on your internet activity. But it wasn’t his fault you bent the law so often! “Are you not paying attention to your person again? How many times do I have to tell you to not watch Naruto on the second monitor!?”

“I’m not, I swear! And I am paying attention to her! She’s downloaded like, five albums of different artists in the past twelve hours, how am I supposed to keep up with that!?”

“That’s what the ads are for!”

“I’ve tried, Jihoon! She has an ad-blocker for the ad-blocker! She always finds a way to stop me! You know how there isn’t a cure for the common cold because it adapts and evolves so often? She’s exactly like that!”

“Try harder. You’re a FBI agent, for Christ’s sake. You have access to basically their entire internet history and activity! There’s always a way around it, trust me. Start by sending her a threatening message, or something, to slow down the downloading.”

“Just message them? Can we do that…?”

“Of course we can. It’s just like an email. Just be like, ‘hey, we’ve noticed some suspicious activity on your laptop, please refrain from blah blah blah,’ and that’s it.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“Just say you’re in the FBI or something, that usually scares them.”

“I mean, I am in the FBI…”

“Then there shouldn’t be a problem. Hurry and watch her activity before she pirates all of Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo. Your report says that was her latest search.”

“Fuck,” Soonyoung cursed before running out of Jihoon’s office.

When he got back to his desk, it was already too late. On the screen that monitored your internet activity on your laptop, the screen showed that you were already in the middle of downloading episode three.

“Oh no, you don’t.” Soonyoung practically keyboard-smashed a bunch of codes onto the screen that paused your downloading process.

“What the hell!” he heard you screech into his headset. “Are you kidding me!?”

“Now’s my chance.”

On the other side of the screen, you quit your browser and tried to redownload the third episode for the third time, but the download kept failing. That was it, you were going to take your laptop to a Genius bar, or something -

“You have (1) Unread Message,” your laptop chimed.

With hesitation, you opened the suspiciously red message. “Hello, _____,” you muttered aloud. “We have noticed some suspicious activity on your computer. Remember to please refrain from downloading any copyrighted… blah blah blah… Oh shit, hey, take a look at this!” you called your roommate.

“What’s up?”

“The FBI’s watching me!” you snorted.

“Why is she laughing!?” Soonyoung asked his lonely cubicle.

“Why are you laughing!? Oh, my God, see I told you this was going to happen! Look at what you did, now I bet they’ve hacked into my laptop, too! We are so screwed! We’re going to get arrested!” your roommate panicked. “I bet they’re listening to us right now! _____, shut down your laptop - no, burn it -”

“Relax, will you! It’s just a prank, or something! Or another pop-up ad!”

“I’ll show you a pop-up ad…” Soonyoung scoffed. On his end, he coded another message onto your laptop screen. He was probably getting a little carried away with a second message, but clearly you weren’t listening, and Jihoon did tell him to get more serious with this job. He’s not hurting anyone, anyways.

The next message popped up on your laptop screen for you and your roommate to see.

“‘This isn’t a prank’…” your roommate whispered. “This isn’t a prank… This isn’t a prank! Oh, shit, they really are listening to us!”

“No fucking way,” you cursed. “Ok, Mr. FBI agent, if this isn’t a prank, then… what’s our Wifi network?”

“‘PrettyFlyforAWiFi.’ Holy shit, this is real, this is happening right now,” your roommate panicked.

“Shut up! What was my most recent search?”

After scrolling through your history for several minutes, Soonyoung replied with, ‘How to clean wine stains.’

“Do you know our cat’s name…?”

‘Truffle.’

“Holy shit.” You began to laugh quite hysterically, still unable to believe that you had a real FBI agent assigned to you and was currently chatting it up with you and your terrified roommate. Your mind began to flash back to all the embarrassing and, um, not so appropriate searches you’ve done in the past. Everything you’ve ever searched, downloaded, basically have seen on the internet, this person has seen you do it.

“Burn it,” your roommate threatened. “Or I’m gonna do it.”

“No, I can’t afford another laptop right now! Besides, I bet you have an FBI agent assigned to you, too.”

“Yeah, but at least I won’t go to jail for downloading illegal content.”

“That’s true…”

“You won’t go to jail, dumbass.”

Both you and your roommate stopped moving when your laptop began to speak. Now this was really starting to get scary.

On Soonyoung’s end, who was tired of typing out all of his proof and explainations that have been ignored as you and roommate bickered, he decided to finally turn on his microphone on his headset and do the absolute unspeakable - talk to his assigned citizen. Soonyoung was already in deep shit with Jihoon and the entire agency anyways, so he might as well dig deeper.

“You won’t go to jail now, but if you keep downloading and torrenting so much stuff, you will.”

“It’s a boy,” you stated. “My FBI agent’s a dude. Ok, that, in some form or another, has to be illegal, too, like that’s just not safe or fair!”

“Life isn’t safe or fair.”

“Are you my mother now? My FBI agent mother?”

“I can’t believe you’re arguing with your laptop,” your roommate said as she walked away from you. “Don’t bring that thing near me until you figure out your legal problems!”

You sighed dramatically so that Soonyoung could hear you from the other side. It was just the two of you now, face to face - sort of - waiting for the other person to break the ice.

“So I’m not going to jail, right?”

“No, but I’m assigned to watch over your internet activity still. If your excessive illegal downloading continues, I’ll have to have you arrested.”

“Then how long until I’m in the clear?”

“Either until you get a new laptop and a new agent assigned to you or as long as I deem necessary.”

“So we’re basically stuck with each other, huh?” you asked.

“Unfortunately.”

“Cool… Well, since we’ll be working together for quite some time, I’ll intoduce myself first. Hi, my name is _____.”

“I know.”

“… Of course you do,” you dead panned. “And you are…?”

“Soonyoung.”

“What a nice name for a scary FBI agent man. Do you know what I look like…?”

“I can only see you when you turn on your webcam.”

“That’s so weird!” You felt the strong shivers creep up your spine at the thought of some strange man looking at you while you webcammed with your friends or classmates. The corners of Soonyoung’s lips twitched slightly at your strange, scared noises. “Please tell me you’re not some old man with a tub of lotion by your desk.”

“We’re the same age.”

“Damn, you know my birthday, too! But somehow knowing we’re the same age makes this all less creepy.”

“That’s… good?”

“I’m not too sure, either. Now that we got formalities out of the way, I’m going to continue downloading this episode if that’s ok with you.”

“What!?” Soonyoung screeched into his mic. “No, that’s not ok! I just told you that you could get arrested!”

“Yeah, but you seem cool!”

“There are dozens of free streaming websites for that show, why do you have to download each episode!?”

“It’s not the same.”

“Oh, my God,” Soonyoung sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose harshly.

You were going to have a lot of fun messing with Soonyoung.

[skam-season4]

Welcome Back Yousef

Read on Ao3

Summary:The whole gang celebrates Yousef's return.

Notes: Y’all wanted the party, so here ya go! There are some of our favorite ships in there like yousana and evak, there are some of our not so favorites, like noorhelm and vildus (vagnus?), some we have mixed feelings about, like joneva, but the point is that it’s cannon compliant, and the ships that aren’t our favorite exist, but thet don’t get as much any “screentime” as the good ones. Also Vilde is gay because they literally set it up in the show. Theres also a special crackship that i’ve talked about before, you’re welcome. i got lazy like three paragraphs in so sorry if it’s shit.

Sunday, August 20, 2017 at 8:37 pm Multiple points of view

Yousef rolls his eyes at his friend’s impatience. He pockets his phone and doesn’t respond, figuring it’s kind of pointless when he and Sana are already standing on her front porch. 

They took their time walking back to her house, just talking about Yousef’s trip, how Sana was while he was away, and just enjoying being around each other in general.

Now, standing on Sana’s front stoop, Yousef is excited to see his friends again. He and Sana appear to be so late to his own “surprise” party, that it’s already in full swing. They can hear the music from the backyard, and the loud chatter that carries with it.

Yousef makes to walk inside, but Sana stops him. “Remember to try to look surprised. Elias will never forgive me if he finds out I ruined the surprise. I give him so much shit for it when he does it, and I don’t need to look like a hypocrite,” she exclaims as she waggles a finger at him.

He laughs and says, “Okay, I promise. Alt for deg, girl.”

She rolls her eyes fondly as they make their way inside, walking through the living room and kitchen, out to the backyard. They walk through the doors together as Yousef puts on a mock - surprised face that turns into a genuinely - surprised face. The backyard is breathtaking. There are fairy lights strung across the trees on the sides of the yard that drench the scene in an almost magical, soft glow. Everyone is wearing nice clothes, but not too formal, and chatting comfortably with one another. The whole atmosphere is just laid back and chill. It’s perfect.

The entire party seems to collectively turn to see who showed up, look back to their conversations, and then realize who it was. Un-synchronized shouts of “Surprise! Welcome back Yousef!” and scattered cheers ring through the backyard. Elias starts running back and forth, seemingly trying to figure out what to do.

“Sana! You were supposed to text me before you guys got here!” Elias exclaims, hands running back and forth along the back of his head.

Sana scrunches her face up in confusion. “What? You didn’t tell me that!”

Elias gives her a skeptical look. “Ja, I did. I told you yesterday!”

Sana raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Nei, you did not tell me! I would have remembered if you did.”

Elias deflates slightly. “Oh. I thought I’d told you before.”

Sana just shakes her head in disappointment as Eva busts out laughing from somewhere in the back of the yard, Noora consolingly patting her shoulder. The attendees start to resume their previous conversations as Sana makes her way over to the back of the yard.

Noora is still patting Eva’s shoulder, William standing behind her with a confused expression painting his face. Jonas is standing behind Eva with a fond, amused look on his face.

Surprisingly, Eva isn’t even drunk. There’s no alcohol at this party, as it’s at the Bakkoush’s house, but this is something that Sana would typically expect out of Drunk Eva.

“What’s happening?” Sana inquires as she gives Eva a skeptical look. When Eva only laughs harder, Sana turns to Noora for explanation. “I have no idea.” She says simply.

A minute passes while Eva gathers herself again, moving away from Noora and standing on her own. Jonas takes this as a queue to step forwards and rub her back.

“I was just talking to Even earlier. He said that you and Elias have always been so much alike, but every time someone would tell you that, you’d look at each other and start shaking your heads and deny it. Then, right after he said that, Elias came over to us to say hi, and asked what we were talking about. Even told him, and he turned to me and was like, ‘Nei nei nei, he’s been on this for like, nine years, this guy has no idea what he’s talking about.’ So then we started talking about something else, but then you and Yousef show up, and you were like, ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ and he was like, ‘I thought I’d told you before.’” Eva looks at Sana, waiting for her to start laughing along, but Sana just looks confused. “Don’t you remember? Back in first year, it was the three of us,” she gestures to herself, Sana, and Noora, “In the library? We were talking about, uhm, Chris! Penetrator Chris and Ingrid hooked up at that one party and you saw it, but you never told me until we were in the library together?”

Sana and Noora start giggling along too, as Noora jumps in too, trying to talk over the giggles.

“Ooh, ooh, remember that time-” Noora begins, just in time as Chris and Vilde jump into the conversation.

“Halla, girls,” Chris greets.

“What are we talking about?” Vilde asks.

“Just reminiscing about the good times, yeah?” Noora sighs as she throws an arm over both Eva and Vilde’s shoulders. Vilde smiles and laughs along as she rests her head on Noora’s shoulder, and Noora squeezes tighter.

“Oh, remember the whole cabin trip during easter break in first year? And the Ouija Board? The one that-”

“Oh yeah, and the magic hijab-” “The one that said-” “And the no reply on Jodel-” “-THAT SAID WILLIAM WAS THINKING OF NOORA, AND JONAS STILL LOVED EVA, AND, AND, ISAK WAS GAY!” “-AND CHRIS SAID THE SPIRITS WERE SMOKING CRACK BUT LOOK AT HIM NOW!”

“-AND THE POTATOES!” Vilde and Noora shriek in unison, pointing at each other as they dissolve into uncontrollable laughing.

(Half the party is looking at the group of them by now, among them is the most confused, Isak, who just heard his name shouted along with the fact that he’s gay, and something about an Ouija Board. He’ll ask Eva about it later. None of the girls notice the looks being shot their way.) “Hva faen is the deal with potatoes and you two?” Chris asks, exasperated.

Noora and Vilde share a fond look for a moment before Vilde quips, “Your body needs potatoes.” Before anyone else can inquire about the mysterious potatoes, the girls all burst into more rounds of trying to shout over each other and coming up with the best remember this’s.

Jonas and William make eye contact over the group of oblivious girls and both shake their heads, silently understanding that there’s a mutual confusion plaguing them both. Both boys take this as a queue to leave.

Jonas lets out a huff of laughter as he spots Isak not too far away, in the corner of the yard with Even. As he approaches, he watches the exchange between the two of them. Even is standing close to Isak, hand resting on Isak’s upper back, as he leans in for a kiss. Even seems to expect a long kiss, whilst Isak only gives him a short peck and turns back to his plate of food he has in hand.

“...love food more than you love me,” Even whines as Jonas draws close enough near to hear the conversation.

“Maybe I do,” Isak shoots back, chin upturned with sass. Even feigns offense and puts a hand on his chest, gasping a scandalized breath to go with it.

Isak looks up at him with hooded eyes and says quietly, but still loud enough for Jonas to hear, “Nei. Nothing more than you.” Even smiles a bright smile and kisses Isak again, who actually returns more than a quick peck this time.

“Blegh,” Jonas says as he approaches. “You two are gross,” he grumbles, though his tone and the smile he shoots at Isak suggest anything but that.

“Halla gutta,” Magnus interjects loudly as he and Madhi step into the group.

A chorus of hallas ring around the circle as Magnus breaks it, stepping forwards to greet Even with a tight hug. Isak’s eye twitches when the hug lingers for more than one second, but Jonas thinks he’s the only one that saw it.

“What’s happening over there?” Isak questions, raising his fork and pointing in the general direction of the still shrieking girls, who are currently yelling something about Noora chewing out William in first year and William’s pubic hair.

Jonas just gives him a sideways look before responding, “I don’t even know myself, man. Something about Ouija Boards and Jodel and potatoes.” The boys laugh and shake their heads. “Yeah, but uh, how is everything? I know we haven't talked as much recently, we’ve both been busy lately. But it’s good? With you and Eva, I mean?” Isak prods. Magnus, Madhi, and Even have turned to their own conversation already, so now it’s just him and Isak.

“Det går bra, det går bra,” Jonas replies as he bobs his head. “I really think we can make it work this time. Just from the couple of months we’ve spent back together, I can see how much she’s grown without me in a year and a half. And it’s all for the better. We’ve both grown into ourselves a bit more now, and I feel better than I have in a long time.” Isak looks back at Jonas with a soft expression. Isak knows in detail more than anyone else about the messy start to their relationship the first time around, and knows better than anyone else how much it had hurt Jonas when he and Eva had split up.

Isak and Jonas exchange a private smile that Even catches out of the corner of his eye. As Mahdi says something else that makes Magnus shriek in protest, and Jonas and Isak join in the roasting session, he takes this as an opportunity to slip out of the group, quickly squeezing Isak’s shoulder before leaving the boys to their own devices for a little while (no one is drunk, so he’s not too worried about leaving them alone).

Even takes a few long strides to over where Elias, Yousef, and Sana are all standing together. “She’s the one that spoiled it, man!” Elias exclaims. Yousef looks down at Sana, who’s standing close by his side.

“Nah. You brought it up in the chat first.”

“That’s no fair, bro. You’re only taking her side because you like her.” “Aww, Elias! Are you jealous!? It’s okay, I like you too,” Yousef sarcastically coos. He reaches out and wraps Elias in a hug that’s half bro hug but half soft and caring.

“I do. I love you,” Yousef says to him. Sana and Even watch the exchange fondly as he catches her eye over the tops of the boys’ heads. She gives him her signature Sana Smirk, and his eyes twinkle right back at her. Yousef and Elias untangle with rapid pats on each other’s backs. Yousef steps back and says something lowly into Sana’s ear. She nods and the two walk away, not touching but still unnecessarily close to one another. Even watches them for a few moments, observing their interactions. He’s happy for Yousef. He’s over the fucking moon stoked for Yousef. Even knows how long he’s been pining for Sana (and how Sana pined for him, because let’s be honest, they’re not subtle when they’re together), and he’s glad they finally got together. He watches as they make their way over to the snack table, which is empty save the two of them. As soon as they have a little privacy they immediately start flirting. Within a few moments, Yousef has already thrown approximately three Cheetos at Sana, one of which got stuck somewhere in the folds her hijab. It appears to be lost now as they both pick through the grey fabric, dissolving into uncontrollable giggles. Even though Sana was going through a rough time a couple of months ago, and he’s glad to see her genuinely laughing and smiling again.

Even is pulled back to reality when he hears Elias sigh next to him. He turns back to Elias only to find him also staring at his sister and best friend.

“I’m happy she’s happy,” he says simply. Even smiles to himself. Even after years of zero interaction, Elias still manages to voice his internal thoughts aloud.

He turns back to face Even fully.

“Are you happy?” Elias asks it so simply. No judgement. No overbearing worry. No nosy snooping. Just genuinely wanting to know how his friend is.

Even’s small smile turns into a wider one, but still humble.

“Yes.” Elias meets his eyes and nods, matching his smile. They’ll have time to talk more later, but for now, that’s all they need. “But it’s good to have you back, man.” Elias offers as he claps a hand on Even’s shoulder.

As if on queue, Mutta, Mikael, and Adam pop up to his right, all offering their own hands to pat his other shoulder or rub circles on his back.

He’s amazed how their old dynamic picked back up so quickly despite the history and how things had ended. Even is overwhelmed with love for these boys, who just accepted him back into the squad without anyone blinking twice.

“But what about you? How are things with Isabelle?” Even asks, and Elias’s smile grows as he looks at the floor. All the other boys chime in and start in on him about his situation with her.

Mutta had already talked to Elias earlier this week, so he knows the inside scoop.

He walks over to the snack table and piles his fourth plate up with junk food. Another girl approaches the table, plate already in hand with crumbs on it. She’s wearing a t-shirt with a french fry pattern on the shoulders, along with a purple and pink jacket thrown over it and a unicorn headband in her thin, brown hair.

“Jeez, this is like my third plate!” She exclaims. She smiles in Mutta’s direction as he laughs.

“It’s my fourth. I got you beat,” he counters playfully.

The girl looks up and meets his eyes. She had just taken a bite off of her plate and has her fork in her mouth. She seems to have swallowed her food, but is spinning the fork around in her mouth.

Mutta takes this opportunity to take in the girl’s entire appearance. She’s much shorter than him, a little stocky and judging from her wardrobe choice, quirky. He looks back up to her face and takes in her soft features.

She’s beautiful. Suddenly he’s hyper aware of the fact that she’s eyeing him up and down, slowly as she continues to spin the fork around in her mouth.

“I’m Chris. I know you’re Mutta, but we haven’t really met yet.” She says. He smiles at her and offers his hand. He accepts it.

“Hi Chris, I’m Mutta. You just said that, though. Uh, sorry. Why am I still shaking your hand?” Chris glances down at their joined hands, which are still shaking in the space between them.

They hold eye contact for what feels like another two minutes (it’s actually more like six, but who's counting)

Vilde watched the exchange from her spot in the yard, as Magnus comes up behind her. “Everything good?” “Yeah. Great,” She smiles at him. She means it. Magnus smiles and kisses the side of her head and squeezes her hand. “Just checking in.” He walks away back to the group of boys nearby, consisting of Mahdi, Mikael, Adam, Even, Isak and Elias.

Sana appears to her left and leans in to nudge her shoulder. “You’re seeing it too?” Sana asks through giggles, referencing the eye-fucking taking place at the food table. “Yeah,” Vilde giggles along. She cocks her head a little. “It seems different this time though. Do you know Mutta well?” She turns to look at Sana.

“I’ve known him for a long time.” Sana responds after a moment. She glances back at Chris and Mutta. “I’ve never really considered it before, but now that I think about it, the two of them make total sense.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

Yousef approaches them both with a warm smile at Vilde and a dopey, love-sick one for Sana. “Hei,” she greets him. “Halla.”

“I’m going to go talk to Eva. Let me know if anything new happens over there,” Vilde interjects quickly, before leaving Yousef and Sana by themselves.

“Are you having fun?”

“Of course! Takk. Serr, takk. This was so nice.” “I didn’t do this! Mikael and Elias planned it all.” Yousef shoots her a skeptical look. “We both know that’s a lie.” Sana giggles and nods. “Yeah. But most of the decorating was Vilde, she volunteered to set it all up the second she heard about it.”

“But still. It’s amazing.”

“You’re welcome.”

She takes a step closer to him and leans into his side for a moment.

“I’m really glad you’re back. Like, really, really glad.”

Yousef grins to himself like an idiot. He takes in the scene in front of him, the Bakkoush’s backyard brimming with people that love him.

“I am too. Like, I really, really am. I love all of you so much.”

Notes: uh yeah, so what do you all think about chris / mutta? I’ts such a concept I love it. this entire chapter was just foreshadowing what ill write more about in the future, (gayvilde) (EliasandIsabelle) (JonasandIsak) etc.