#don't approve with the city shirt

[dorabellingham]

Floodlights

warnings: none

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when you make a cameo in his series

may contain spelling and translation errors!

The camera began with a panoramic view of the city of Madrid, with the golden light of the sunset reflecting on the streets. Jude's smooth narration fills the silence as he describes life as a professional football player.

—Being a player is more than just living the dream, it's more than titles, more than recognition... It's a constant battle between success and real life.

The image changes to a sequence of him in different stadiums, wearing the Real Madrid shirt, then the English team. He smiles and continues:

—But what many people don't see is the most important part, which happens away from the spotlight.

The camera moved smoothly to a studio lit by warm lights. Bellingham is sitting casually on a couch, and next to him, you.

You're both relaxed, with Jude wearing something simple, like a white shirt and jeans, and you in a muted green dress. You seem a little shy, a stark contrast to the natural confidence of the man next to you. On the corner of the table, a photo of you on one of your many trips together is prominent.

—You know... most people don't know Y/n behind the cameras, but she has always been the basis of everything in my life. I was a 15 year old boy when we met. And believe it or not, everything changed after that day.

The camera briefly focused on you, who smiled sideways, a little shyly.

You, with a discreet smile, interrupted.

—I remember that day like it was yesterday. I didn't know who Jude Bellingham was... football wasn't my thing.

*a short video starts filling the screen*

The sound of young laughter fills the air as a home video starts playing. The scene shows you and 15-year-old Jude laughing at a simple party. Both are surrounded by friends, including Bukayo Saka, who is filming.

—Jude was...just a kid at the party. —You narrate, while the video shows the young player trying to talk to you for the first time, visibly nervous. —Actually, I thought he was Saka's childhood friend or something!

You laugh.

Jude, laughing, complements his wife's speech.

—I was sure she was dating Saka or Dele. I couldn't understand how someone like her could be single.

Soon the scene changed to an interview of Bukayo and Bamidele, sitting on the same sofa a few days later. They are clearly at ease, laughing about old memories.

—Jude was completely obsessed, seriously. He asked me every day about Y/n, as if I were the older brother who had to approve the relationship or something. It was hilarious.

Saka said, while smiling remembering everything.

—When she came to watch some of our training, something really friendly, Jude didn't hit the goal at all. He looked like he was in the moon world.

Dele commented, crying, laughing.

The scene soon returned to the couple, after the surprise presence of the two close friends. As Jude and you continued talking, the camera cuts to a montage of photos and videos showing the development of your relationship over the years. The screen displays a sequence of photos of you in various places around the world, starting with a selfie in a London cafe and moving through photos from trips to Santorini, Miami and Paris. Each image captures the love and complicity between you.

You say, reflexively:

—I never thought dating someone in football would be easy, you know? I always had this image... football players train, the pressure is a lot, and they are always on the road.

The camera cuts to an image of the you in Ibiza, with the sunset in the background and Jude kissing your cheek.

You continue, smiling sideways.

—But Jude always proved me wrong. He was different from the beginning. And I think that's why, even in the most difficult parts, we always found a way to support each other.

The tone of the song softened as the camera panned back to you in the studio. The mood is now a little more serious, but still light.

Bellingham, looking at you, deeply.

—Being a football player has its difficulties. I remember when things were really complicated... when the pressure was too much. It was at that time that I realized how essential her support was. I was at the height of my career, but at the same time, it was the time when I needed emotional support the most.

You exchanged passionate smiles and your hands met on his legs.

—She doesn't need to say anything. Just being there was enough.

With Jude now showing a slight smile, the camera cuts to an image of you in Madrid, you holding a baby. The image is followed by another montage, this time of you celebrating important victories, with you always by his side.

—If I am the player I am today, it is because of her. It's not just about what happens on the field, it's what happens off it too.

You, who smiled, visibly moved, looked at Jude and said.

—And I've never needed more than what we have. He always made sure I felt safe, that I knew how much he loved me.

The documentary moves to a more relaxed part, where the camera hits you in a country house. The sound of children's laughter fills the air as you play with the still small Benji. You're running through the grass, Jude trying to teach your son how to kick a ball, while you watch fondly.

Jude, now with a more playful tone, said.

—I never thought it would be so good to have a family. Seeing Y/n with Benjamin... makes me realize how unique our journey was. She was the start of it all.

The camera then showed a home video of a family Christmas, with you hugging your parents and family around the tree. It's a genuine moment, full of laughter and joy, that shows a simple and real life behind the fame.

—Football gave me a lot, but my family gave me what really matters.

The episode ended with you sitting on the couch again, now more relaxed. You laughed at an inside joke, and the camera captured this moment of silent intimacy, a demonstration of the quiet, steadfast love you share.

—I know that, at the end of the day, when it's all over... this is what will remain. Us. Y/n was and will always be my biggest support. And everything we built together only makes me sure that the future is ours.

Jude said, his voice shaking slightly.

The camera focused on you, who, still shy, smiled and said:

—I just want him to continue to be happy and mine... that's all that matters.

The speech drew a line from everyone present on the set, and even made Jude try to wink at the camera, but it left something to be desired.

—I promise that by the next episode I will have taught him how to blink!

[mattsmunchkin]

bed chem

paige bueckers X south carolina!reader

contains: smut, draft paige, use of y/n, cussing, lots of plot (i hate smut w/o it)

word count: 2.7k

a/n: this is my first time writing smut so please bear with me and give me feedback because i am unfortunately a virgin. this also would've been out sooner but college is beating my ass so this took over 4 days to write.

you check yourself out in the bathroom mirror as your makeup artist adds some finishing touches. you're dressed in a long sheer dress with your undergarments slightly visible. the dress is skintight and hugs your curves in all the right ways. your hair is pulled back in a slick low ponytail with your long curls draping along your exposed back.

with one last look and approval from your fashion team, you're heading out the door and down to your limo outside.

to say you're nervous would be an understatement. you're projected to be the top pick, but with caitlin clark right on your neck in stats, tonight could go anywhere.

obviously, you would be happy with whatever pick you got, but once the mock draft came out a few months ago, it's all that you could think about. not to mention, social media has been non-stop sharing their opinions about who they think should get the top spot.

"how you feeling, l/n?" your manager, morgan, asks from beside you.

"ready to get tonight over with." you laugh nervously.

"tonight is supposed to be fun. no matter what happens." she grabs your hand and squeezes it. you give her a small smile.

"i know. i'm just ready to be back on the court." you look out the window at the passing lights of new york city. how have you never visited this place before?

"that makes two of us," she lets go of your hand as she leans her head back with a sigh, "this offseason has been beating my ass. i don't think i can spend another day sitting in an office."

"sounds like i need to scout for a new manager." you tease as she lightly punches you in the arm. you two share a laugh as the car pulls up to the venue.

the entrance is lined with paparazzi who anxiously wait for the next attendee to arrive. you take one last deep breath and shake the nerves as you step out of the door that was held open for you. you thank the man as you follow morgan towards the entrance of the building. she steps aside as you stand in front of the cameras and pose for some pictures.

as you begin to walk away you hear commotion from behind you. you turn and see a woman dressed in a full white louis vuitton suit posing confidently for the cameras as they shout multiple commands and compliments.

"who is that?" you ask morgan who is on her phone trying to figure out where to go. she follows your line of vision.

"paige bueckers. she's a red shirt senior guard at connecticut and projected to be the number one pick in next year's draft. she's a powerhouse." she goes back to her phone as she takes a call.

you're not sure how you haven't noticed her before. south carolina played uconn, right? you suddenly can't think straight as the woman 10 feet in front of you has captivated your thoughts without even trying.

lost in a trance, you didn't even realize that she's now standing in front of you.

"hey beautiful." she stares down at you with a smirk on her face. her eyes stealing a quick glance at your body.

"hi." you smile up at her as you stare into her blue eyes. a blush creeping onto your face, the chemistry between you almost instant.

"i'm paige." she extends her hand towards you. you're taken aback by the formality, but your hand quickly meets hers.

"i'm y/n."

"the gamecock?" she asks, earning a nod from you. "i've heard a lot about you." your hands disconnect as she puts hers into her pockets.

"oh yeah? like what?" you smirk, crossing your arms.

before she can answer, morgan is calling your name saying that the ceremony is about to start. you glance back at paige who is also being called by her team. you two share another look before going your separate ways.

once in your seat, your nerves start to hit you all at once. mixed with the flooding thoughts of the woman you met not even 5 minutes ago, you're not sure how long you'll be able to sit through this.

opening remarks are through and the indiana fever takes the stage to make the first-round pick. you take a glance around the room and see paige seated a few rows back in the crowd. she winks at you before bringing her attention back to the stage.

"with the first overall pick in the 2024 wnba draft, the indiana fever select y/n l/n from the university of south carolina!"

cheers erupt around you as a smile takes over your face. you instantly pull morgan into a hug before making your way onto the stage to take a picture with the fever jersey.

you thank the woman on stage and wave at the crowd as you head back to your seat.

the rest of the night drags on as they go through the rest of the draftees. you and paige steal frequent glances throughout the ceremony as tensions grow between the two of you.

you were absolutely captivated by her at first glance and with the smirks and winks she's sending your way so frequently, you could feel the desire between your legs growing by the minute.

afterwards, you are outside on the carpet once again as the media broadcasters interview the stars of the night. you are bombarded with questions ranging from growing up playing basketball to what you're looking forward to the most as a part of the fever.

during one of your interviews, you feel a hand brush against your waist as someone passes behind you. you look and see paige smirking back at you before she turns and walks out of the venue. you bring your attention back to the interviewer and pray you don't look as flustered as you feel.

before you know it, you're back into the limo you arrived in. you let out a long-awaited breath you didn't know you were holding.

"you haven't even been a part of the team for a whole day and season tickets are already sold out." morgan says with a grin on her face. you smile and shake your head.

"you think that would make me feel better." you lean your head back and close your eyes.

"remember, you don't have to prove yourself to anyone. you earned your spot. all you have to do is keep doing what you've been doing the past 4 years." she reassures, placing a hand on your bouncing knee.

you flash her a small smile before returning your gaze to the city lights outside.

the rest of the ride is silent as your social battery died a little too early in the night for your liking. you were ready to get back to the hotel and take a long shower to...debrief.

once you've said your goodbyes to morgan and your team, you walk to your room as fast as your feet can take you. you close the door behind you and lean against it with a sigh. your phone buzzes with a notification from instagram.

kamoreaarnold wants to send you a message!

your brows furrow at the unfamiliar name. you click the notification and open the chat.

KK Arnold

hey girly pop! i gotta question for you

You

do i know you?

KK Arnold

don't worry abt it

yk my girl paige?

You

what abt her

KK Arnold

so basically she's like obsessed with you and wanted me to ask you for your number

You

oh?

why didn't she ask me herself?

KK Arnold

she scared

so is that a yes?

You

yes

*your number*

you send your number to this kk girl and get ready to get in the shower. you glance at yourself in the mirror and look over tonight's outfit. trying to convince yourself that you're no longer a gamecock.

before you can let your emotions get the best of you, you open tiktok to distract yourself. you scroll mindlessly until a video pops up that makes your eyes go wide.

an edit of paige somehow made its way to your for you page consisting of multiple clips of her from tonight. you watch the clips flash on your screen to 'so anxious' by ginuwine. you feel like the wind got knocked out of you at the way she was so confident in front of a camera. it's like she knows the affect she has on people.

as if it was planned, a call from a random number takes over the screen. you smirk with the hope of a certain person being on the other side and quickly collect yourself before answering.

"hello?"

"hey pretty girl." you hear the same intoxicating voice from earlier, only this time it's low and husky.

"hi paige." you say sweetly. you bring your legs closer together at the instant effect she had on you from purely her voice.

"how you feeling? about getting drafted and what not."

"oh i'm feeling great! just ready to be back on the court and stuff." you curse yourself at your awkwardness. you barely know this woman and all of a sudden, she has your thoughts in a knot.

"oh yeah?" you can hear the smirk in her voice. the two words making your head spin.

"mhm" seems to be the only thing you can push out right now.

your thoughts are everywhere at once and you can't seem to focus on whatever paige is talking about. you curse yourself for how easily you're allowing yourself to be enthralled by her at such a high level. you keep picturing her lips and how she would wet them with her tongue every so often. you can only imagine how soft they are and how good they would feel-

"y/n?" her voice brings you back to reality as your eyes shoot open. you realize you didn't hear a single thing she had said.

"yeah! sorry, i uh...what were you saying?" you pinch the bridge of your nose. why are you fumbling this woman so hard right now?

"what y'thinking about, baby?" the pet name rolling off her tongue effortlessly fills your head with sinful thoughts. you can hear the smirk that never seems to leave her face and the hushed tone in her voice.

"can you come over?" the question leaves your mouth before you can detest, and you hope it doesn't backfire. you couldn't spend another moment separate from this woman.

"i'll be there in 10." she responds almost immediately. she hangs up before you can respond. your mind starts to race as you think about having paige bueckers in your hotel room, all to yourself.

the next 10 minutes could not have come any slower. you spent them pacing your room and only thinking about her hands all over your body. how her lips would feel. her breath on your neck and down your body.

God, you hoped she was still in that damn suit.

you hear a knock on your door and immediately jump up from your seat on the bed and walk towards the door. with a deep breath you open the door and are met with the same paige you met on the red carpet 3 hours ago.

her lips are immediately on yours in a heated kiss. her hands set on your waist pulling you closer as yours find their way to her neck. your lips move together harmoniously, as if they've done this a million times before.

a muffled groan escapes her lips when your teeth sink into her bottom lip, her grip on your waist tightening. she moves her hands to your backside signaling you to jump to which you oblige.

she carries you over to the bed and sets you down, the kiss never faltering. her lips make their way to assault your neck as your breathless moans fill the room. it's music to her ears. your hands have been roaming her body when they tug at her top.

"take it off." you breathe out. she smirks before leaning up and tugging the top off, leaving her bare. you lean up to kiss her stomach as your tongue runs up her abs not breaking eye contact.

"fuck baby." she croaks out. she reaches behind you and begins taking your dress off. you lay back down as you lift your hips to allow her to completely strip you. her eyes roam your naked body, taking you in. "you're so beautiful."

her lips reattach with yours. her hands play with her belt buckle, undoing it and sliding her pants off. you wrap your legs around her waist and pull her closer to you.

"need you." you say between kisses. you buck your hips forward needing to feel something.

"you want me?" she reattaches her mouth to your neck, leaving more marks. you hum a response. your mind is fogged with anticipation and desire. "use your words baby."

"yes, fuck, yes i need you paige." she removes her lips from your neck and looks into your eyes with a lust-filled gaze.

"ride my face."

you're taken aback by her words. she lays down next to you and you waste no time crawling on top of her. you hover over her before her hands grab your ass and bring you to her mouth.

you moan out at the sudden contact. your hand snaps to her head and tugs at her hair, earning a muffled moan from her that vibrates against your core. her tongue runs through your folds and circles your bundle of nerves.

"fuck paige," you grind your hips on her tongue as you two hold eye contact, "so good baby."

you lean back onto your hand as your other makes its way to her work on her core. your fingers work in quick circles as she moans out, throwing her head back before reattaching to you. her tongue slides into you while her nose slightly rubs against your clit as she does so.

you bring your fingers to your mouth, sucking on them before returning them to enter her. you curl them while moving them in and out as your thumb rubs her bundle of nerves.

"holy shit y/n," she removes her mouth as she moans before replacing it with her own fingers. quickly rubbing your core as your pace quickens with hers. you're both a breathless, moaning mess. your eyes squeeze shut with your mouth agape as the knot in your stomach builds. "you're so beautiful baby," she husks before returning her mouth to your heat.

how can she talk so sweet when doing such bad things?

the way her constant moans would vibrate against you and mixed with her mouth moving in ways you could only imagine, you weren't gonna last long at all.

"m' close paige." you moan as your pace in her quickens to a speed you didn't know you were capable of. her mouth somehow finds a way to match as she hums against you, signaling that she was too.

after a few more quick thrusts, the knot in your stomach snaps as the two of you moan out loud whines and profanities, not caring about people hearing. you work each other through your highs before pulling your fingers out and bringing them to your mouth. you suck them while maintaining eye contact with the breathless girl under you who kisses your core before pulling away from you, her face glistening from your orgasm.

you move off of her and plop down next to her as you both catch your breath. she wraps her arm around your waist and pulls you in. she pulls the covers over the two of you as you share a kiss, this one gentle and sweet. you pull away and rest your head on your hand as her fingers run through your hair.

"that was so much better than i imagined." you lightly laugh as your legs intertwine with paige's.

"you imagined it before?" she asks in a teasing tone. you lightly slap her arm as she lets out a laugh.

"don't make it weird." you wrap your arm around her as you lay your head on her chest as sleep threatens to take over your body. there's a moment of silence between you.

"i hope you know this wasn't a one-time thing." she speaks up, vulnerability lacing her voice. you smile against her.

"well i look forward to the next time then." her arms tighten around your waist as she pulls you closer. she places a kiss on the top of your head.

"goodnight beautiful."

"goodnight p."

[kurokawaia]

❛ RUN, BABY. RUN ❜

Yandere! Sanzu Haruchiyo X Fem!Reader

WC; 4k+ | !MDNI! 18+ | TW/CW :: OVERALL WARNINGS Yandere themes dark content, inexperienced!reader, timid!shy!reader, pet names 'baby' 'doll' + more, drugs (sanzu's part), alcohol, clubs, age gap -> reader is implied to be around 20-22, reader is described to be shorter than Sanzu, smut, nsfw, piv, no protection, begging, rough sex? missionary, oral -> female receiving, male receiving, doggy, marking, possessive, possession, restriction, kidnapping?, biting? eventual predator play, based on the song runrunrun by dutch melrose + more

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮𝐼𝒮 :: meeting Sanzu in that club and accepting that one offer to dance with him, that was when you should've said no, then maybe, you wouldn't be in this situation you are in now.

HONEY'S A/NOTE :: not as dark as i wanted it to be but ill edit it later to make it rlly dark for all you dark romance girlies!!

m.list | tokyo revengers m.list - PART 1 / PART 2

Sanzu watches you and he can feel his heart thumping faster looking at your sweet, innocent face. He can't wait to ruin you. "Impressed?" he asks, though he most definitely knows the answer. Nodding your head. "It's... incredible."

He hums in approval, his arm still wrapped around your waist as he pulls you inside. The elevator ride up to the penthouse is quick, just a little too quick before you know it, the doors slide open into an open, plan sprawl that's all clean lines, dark wood, and floor-to-ceiling windows that look out onto the city below. The view's breathtaking but your attention is quickly pulled back to Sanzu. A ding and then the door closes behind you two, leaving just the two of you.

You wonder what he did for work, this penthouse looks really expensive... You couldn't even fathom what his job is because his hair colour, hairstyle, and how many piercings he has would make it hard for him to find a job, would it not?

All of a sudden, your back is flush against the wall next to the elevator, Sanzu pinning your arms beside your head, his hands gripped tight around your wrists. And then, his lips brush against yours. It's a soft gentle peck before his tongue pushes past your lips and you gasp.

You melt into him as you kiss him back. His lips move slowly against yours, almost cherishing every moment, every touch. But even through the sweetness, you can feel it, the hunger simmering just beneath the surface. His hands grip your waist a little tighter, his breathing hitched as he deepens the kiss. Sanzu leans backward just a fraction, his forehead against yours as he takes a breath. "You're something else," he says in a whisper. His fingers brush a strand of hair off your face before trailing down your neck. For a second, you really think that's all it's going to be- just soft kisses and touching. Then, though, his hand slides to the back of your neck, and he pulls you in again, his lips capturing yours with more intensity this time. 

There's still a sweetness to it, but he's clearly been holding back. His kiss grows urgent, insistent, as if he is losing control of the restraint that he has been desperately trying to apply. Your back presses against the cool wall as he cages you in, the slow and deliberate touch of his hands exploring your body. You feel the heat radiate off him, the way his breathing gets heavier, his body pressing closer still against yours. 

As his lips trail down your neck, sending shivers coursing through your body, you can't help but want to see what happens when that control finally slips as he picks you up, takes you to his room and throws you onto his bed. Before you knew it he was on top of you, white shirt unbuttoned, pink and purple dress pants loosely on his hips

He was distracting your sight, making sure that your eyes were solely focused on his own. Sanzu is making sure that your innocent, pretty doe eyes don't look to his bedside table, let alone how the floor looked on the right side. Drugs and empty alcohol bottles were scattered everywhere.

Bottles on the floor, pills and cocaine on the bedside table.

Not to mention the discarded handguns on the floor, he didn't know how many were there but he didn't want you to lay your eyes upon them. Sanzu just hopes that after this you don't decide to go snooping around because if you did you'd find a lot more things that a normal person should not possess. 

He will make sure you stay oblivious. 

You're his now.

A whimper falls past your lips, and Sanzu is on the verge of going absolutely feral and manic. You sound so pure. He wants to break you slowly, so desperately, but he can't. Sanzu wants to do it now. Your arms push together and your breasts push together as your hands grip his unbuttoned shirt, mounds on the verge of spilling out your mini dress. 

Sanzu lets a free hand trail lower, his first and second fingers hooking under your strapless dress, pulling the top down your chest revealing your plain black strapless bra. Pulling away from the kiss, Sanzu almost loses it, your breasts are beautiful (he can't wait to mark them up, is what he really means).

Your back is still arched from the heated kiss, Sanzu moves down, placing soft, gentle kisses down your jaw to your collarbone, slowly, leaving red marks in their wake. During this, Sanzu unclips your bra with one skilled hand, slender fingers unclipping the clasp.

A gasp leaves your lips, your nails on the verge of breaking the expensive cotton blend. "W-Wait..." you stutter out quietly, and you were surprised that he could even hear you by the way his lips left your neck, his green iris gazing deeply into yours.

A deep hum reverberates in his throat, causing you to nibble on your bottom lip. "What you need, Doll?" he says low against your skin and you let out a sigh at how warm the contact is.

"I haven't..." You began slowly before stopping yourself and Sanzu's eyes widened. He knew you were innocent but he was about to lose it if you were a virgin.

"Done anything like this in a while..." you continue and Sanzu sighs in relief mentally. 

Thank fuck you weren't a virgin (he didn't want to break you too much... but he would've loved for you to be his from the very beginning) Sanzu would just have to make sure that you don't think about anyone but him, making sure you forget about any of your past fucks.

"You don't have to worry, doll," he murmurs agasint your neck before trailing kisses down your stomach, sucking longer on the skin exposed above your underwear and you shiver under his touch, a hand entangling within his pink locks. "You tell me when to stop."

A shaky breath leaves your mouth. "Okay," you whimper, biting on your bottom lip as you look down to see your thighs already pulled over Sanzu's shoulders.

Your head was thrown back against the pillow so suddenly that Sanzu's nose bumped agasint your covered clit. A whimper leaves your lips, thighs tightening around his head before veiny hands spread them far apart, and your back arched, you had nowhere to go.

"F-Fuck," you whimper out.

A whimper leaves your mouth when he places a kiss on your clit and your thighs clench around his head. You attempt to arch away from the overwhelming sensation but Sanzu's grip keeps you in place. A satisfied sigh seeps through him into your folds as a mewl from your full lips.

He pulls your underwear to the side, licking a long stripe up your folds and you moan, your back arching and your cunt pressing further into his face which he relished in. Sanzu moans into your folds, the vibrations reverberating throughout your cunt and you tremble.

His tongue climbs up from your wet hole to your clit while you let out a moan. Your thighs try to  tighten around his head but couldn't as a result of his constriction, and as you grind down on his face, a moan echoes through your clit. Your lips were filled with chants of his name, and he relished every moment of it.

"Haru... f-feels s' good," you moan, tears welling in your lash line, he was making you feel so good.

"I've got you, doll," Sanzu says, making sure to relish in your taste, wanting to etch the flavour in his brain.

When you feel a finger push past your closing walls, your eyes expand, and you cry with delight. It felt so fantastic that you never wanted it to finish, even though you thought you would break because of how much pleasure was crossing through your veins.

His finger pressed up against that soft spot inside your walls. Sanzu was slow with his pace as he curled his fingers every time he entered your cunt, along with sucking and licking at your puffy, sensitive clit.

"You're taking it so well..." Sanzu moans against you, refusing to rut his hips into the mattress.

He wants to break you.

He's being to nice, he can't take it any longer.

A moan arouses from you and your hips grind themselves onto his face. He let you for once have some sort of control over the situation, and he decided that if you came quicker he'll let you do it more often. "That's it," he praised.

His motions become more rapid and needy as you cry his name through broken letters, and the one hold he held on your leg tightens. Your stomach coil tightened, and your fingers wrapped around his locks to stop him from moving and make him sigh deeper into your folds.

The only thing the groans did was push you over the edge, and when he placed his tongue firmly against your clit, a quiet scream from your lips. Your stomach coil unwound, soaking his face completely.

He slowly removed his fingers from your drenched pussy, your cum spilling out from your puffy folds. Before rising his head, he places a kiss on your clit and your mewl softly in overstimulation.

"I'm not done yet, Baby," he growls, smashing his lips against yours, a hand wrapping around your throat and you gasp while tasting yourself on his tongue before he roughly flips you over, your breasts and stomach pressed against the mattress. 

Then you felt a heavy, throbbing tip press against your clit and you moaned from the small touch. You tried to squirm away from the pleasurable cause but couldn't as Sanzu knew your body more than you did yourself, he knew you were gonna try to run from his body due to the pleasure. So, he pressed his weight against you once more.

You held your breath when Sanzu sank his throbbing cock into your spongey walls, his length getting squeezed by every ridge within your soaked cunt. A moan left both of your mouths as Sanzu's length nudged the deepest spot within you.

"Look how you take me in," Sanzu grunts. "Such a good little slut." You sigh in pleasure at the degradative praise.

But he didn't move, he wanted to relish in on how you desired to cause friction, desired to move against his touch, but couldn't. Sanzu's cock, prodded so deep in your gummy walls that you whimpered in pleasure, but that didn't stop him from not moving. He was still snug inside.

Hot and heavy kisses trail down from your ear down to the dip of your neck to shoulder and a breathless sigh escaped your parted lips before Sanzu rolled his hips into yours. A moan slips out of your mouth, his thick length scraping all the sensitive parts of your warm insides.

Sanzu's knees spread your legs apart so that any advances from you ensured that they would be shut down, so that you remained situated below him, your pretty body that paled in comparison to his big frame. As he expected, you couldn't move from his trapping embrace.

His movements became faster, his cock thrusting into the depths of my needy hole as strained moans and whines left your throat. Sanzu was panting in your ear and an occasional deep groan slipped past his lips, the sounds which made your cunt flutter tightly around his length.

Sanzu was filling you up to the hilt, his throbbing pink tip hitting that soft, gummy spot in your cunt that caused you to scream out in fulfilment. "I know baby, I'm listening," He breathed, causing you to let out a moan and sigh, body shaking with pleasure. "Found it haven't I?" Sanzu smirked.

Your body tried to arch away from the pleasure, not being able to take the strong rolls of Sanzu's hips, but as you arched your back away, his thrusts only aimed deeper, harder into your G spot. "Y-yeah," you sobbed out, tears filling your lash line. "B-but... Too much, 'Haru. Slow down, too much."

"Oh?" he smirked, his hips moving now at a faster pace, loving how your cunt squeezed his cock even though you wanted him to slow down, how contradicting he thought your words were, you were denying your body the release that you so desperately needed. "Looks like you pussy is saying something else," Sanzu added.

Repetitive moans left your mouth while he pounded into your tight heat. You suddenly had the instinctive urge to press yourself into his length, but you couldn't, his weight was too heavy for you to move against him, and you were utterly hopeless as his thrusts became faster.

"Please, I wanna come," you cry out mewling. "So big, you feel so big, Haru..."

Your body trembled beneath him and the hold he had on your hands loosened. Your hips were getting held, then, the strength he possessed lifted you onto your knees before a bicep wrapped around your throat, lifting your head. It wasn't a tight grip but the power lifted your head from the futon while you shakily rested your weight on your elbows.

Your back arched heavily, finally being able to sink more into him. Sanzu hunched over you, pulling you closer to him and connected your mouth in a sloppy, wet kiss, forcing his tongue inside your mouth, grunting into you while he swallowed your moans. "Good girl, taking me so deep," Sanzu groaned, pulling away from your mouth and pushing this arch into your back deeper.

He watched your ass ripping again his lower abdomen, watching your cunt with purple iris'. Observing how your walks sucked him in, leaving a creamy white rind of arousal around the base of his cock. 

"Making you feel so good, aren't I?" Sanzu groaned his head tilted forward, sweat beading on his forehead as we watched your fall apart and tremble from his dick, broken moans slipping past your plump lips.

A satisfied smirk came onto Sanzu's face as he watched those tears that welled in your fluffy lash line spill down your smooth cheeks. "Such a good little- slut," Sanzu groans. "Pussy taking me in so deep."

"'Wanna come, please," you beg, wanting to feel the release, desperate as the tears stream down your flushed cheeks. "Want it so bad."

You clench around his length as he increases his pace, instantly accommodating to the speed but your moans escalate. "Such a good girl," He leaned down and mumbled in my ear chased with a deep moan that stirred my insides clenching around his length. "C'mon, how much you want it?" Sanzu rasps in your ear.

"Want it so bad!" you whimper, unable to comprehend any thoughts that swelled into your head. "Please, please, please!"

"Oh?" Sanzu grunts his teeth grinding.

You moan out, your body trembling. "Please.... I just... 'wanna" you hiccup out, the coil in your stomach tightening while his heavy balls slap against your swollen clit.

"Yeah? Come, on, doll," Sanzu replies groans interrupting his speech, but it made his stomach and balls tighten, wanting to fill up your cunt with his seed.

"Please, I wanna come," you moan.

"Go ahead," he growled and you spasmed around his length as your high washed over you, your legs shaking as his weight pressed down even more than it was. His thrusts didn't slow causing me to whimper in overstimulation, but Sanzu helped it, his hips continuing to rut into you, helping you ride out my orgasm as he chased his own.

With a groan, his lips planted against mine once again as his hips slammed into mine, hard, his cum spilling inside me causing me to moan into his kiss. Sanzu slipped his softening length out and pulled away from the kiss as you slumped to the futon, his eyes chained to the white splotches of silky come that spilled from your gaping cunt.

He wants to break you further.

And that's exactly what he does for the next three months.

It had started with little things, things one dismissed as quirks or habits. Sanzu had this way of making you be consumed entirely by him, as if he was the centre of gravity you just could not pull away from. 

His house turned into a second home you spent more and more time in, never realizing how it became so. How leaving a few clothes there turned into leaving entire drawers filled with your things. 

Your toothbrush beside his, your shoes by the door, your scent mixed with his in the hallways of his penthouse. And then one day, it wasn't just a drawer or two; it was everything. You couldn't remember the last time you'd spent a night at your own place. Your social circle gradually shrank. At first, it was natural, the hours spent with Sanzu were intoxicating. All he had done was comment subtly on your friends-how they didn't really understand you, how they were too unreliable, always leaving you to your own devices. 

He was the one who was always there, the one who truly cared about your well-being. Soon, nights out with friends grew fewer and fewer, replaced by nights waiting for him to come back from work, keeping your phone on silent "out of respect for him," as he had suggested. Yet, for all his affection, his life remained a mystery. 

Every time he went out, he was always vague as to where he went or what he did. His phone, always buzzing with messages, was guarded. Any question you asked was received with a smile and a kiss on the lips: "Just business," he'd shrug and stroke off your queries. When he took you to his 'meetings', you sat outside in luxurious lounges or dimly lit private rooms for hours, waiting without any explanations. You tried not to mind. You tried to believe him, that he was just protective, just keeping you out of something too messy for you to understand. But the doubt gnawed at you, stealing in when he'd come home late at night, his eyes darker, the faint scent of smoke and something metallic clinging to his clothes...

And then... you found out by accident by seeing the messages pinging on his phone while he was in the kitchen, back home from... work. Messages flashed across the screen, names and details you didn't recognize but somehow instinctively knew were dangerous. Then, you see it, you couldn't focus on anything other than what the message said apart from the one word that stood out. Bonten.

The man your're seeing is apart of Bonten. 

Sanzu's late nights, the few strange men he would occasionally meet with, and how his whole world was shrouded in darkness. He wasn't into anything shady-he was deep in one of the most feared criminal organizations in the city. 

And it was too late to pull away. 

"Baby... what are you looking at?" He asks looking over the counter, eyes narrowing at how your sight was locked onto his phone.

Sanzu picks up his iPhone and his gaze darkens at what you had just seen. 

You know now...

"I... I'd like to go on a walk," you abruptly say and Sanzu glances at you through lidded eyes from his phone.

What you were really planning to do was to get as far away as possible from this physco. 

"A walk? Huh, Baby?" he hums, placing his phone screen down to the marble counter. "Go on and do it..." Sanzu hums, face so close to yours you thought he's kiss you but you shyed away and then his eyes darken. "Alrgiht. You wanna play it like that?-" a silence "Run, Baby. Run..." His lips graze you're ear, "Although, you can't run forever."

Run, baby. Run.

It felt like hours, maybe days, but it had only been 2 minutes and you had no idea how long you'd been running, trying to get away from him. Every corner you turned, every dark alley you darted down, the feeling of his presence followed. No matter how fast you went, how hard you pushed yourself, deep down you knew it would never be enough. You can't run forever. He smiled when he'd said it, pale eyes alight with something wild, something dangerous. Sanzu had always been unhinged, but the fire of that gaze, that hunger was something else. You couldn't outrun him. You knew it. Still, you had to try. Your lungs burned, your legs aching, and you went faster.

Too close.

He's always close. It was the sound of his voice, the tone in which he spoke to you that night a lover promising things, dark and twisted. It started with touches that lingered too long, knowing looks, finding his way wherever you were, he begun to follow you around, began to restrict where you went, and made you cut your friends off. But it grew and escalated until you could not breathe without the weight of his obsession bearing down upon you. And now? Now he hunted you. Chased you across town like some prey, sick, a game he was the only one who could win. "Come on," his voice echoed in the back of your head, teasing, low, seductive. "You know you can't run from me, love. Why even try?" You can't stop. But then, just as you might actually have a chance—just as you allow yourself to believe for this one passing moment you can get away from him—you hear it. Footsteps.  Your heart plummets to your stomach. You needn't look around, instinctively, you know who it is. The heavy, rounded sound of the dress shoes on concrete sends a cold quiver running down your spine. "You're making this too easy." His voice was closer now, too close, and your body seemed to freeze well before your brain could catch up with the command to move. You had only time for a single breath, before his hand curled around your wrist, yanking you back against him with terrifying ease. "Haru— You'd barely gotten his name out before his other hand had latched onto your chin, twisting your face up to meet his. Pale, icy blue eyes stared down into your face with an intensity that stole the breath from your lungs. His smile was twisted, the same he'd worn that night-the night he told you you'd never be free of him. "Did you really think you could run from me?" His voice was low, soft, almost caressing. He pulled you close with that much tighter grip. "After all we went through? After all I've done for you? Your heart is racing, and then panic sets in. But Sanzu holds with an iron clutch, his fingers digging into skin, his body pressed up against yours-rendering the impossible task of moving anywhere. "Haru, please." You struggled against him, trying to pull away, but he tightened his hold instead, his smile growing wider at watching you squirm. "I like it when you say my name in that manner," he whispered huskily against your ear. "But I don't like this when you run away from me, it's as if you have no regard for what I have done for you." It moved from your chin upwards, tracing along your throat until fingers wrapped around your neck. The deceptively soft threat was crystal clear, he would end this, end you, at his whim. And the worst of it? The dark thrill dancing in his eyes told you that he liked that idea. "You have any idea how it hurts to see you faking like you can survive without me?" he whispered, the edge of his lips brushing your ear. "To see you try to run? It's almost... an insult." You swallowed hard, your throat closing up under his touch, but your voice shook out in a desperate, quaking whisper. "Haru, I can't. I can't do this anymore." His fingers constricted around your neck ever so slightly, and you gasped. "But you can, baby. You don't have a choice. You belong to me. You always have." "You're mine, and no matter how far you run, no matter how hard you try to get away from me, I'll find you," his lips ghosted over yours, barely touching, before he pulled back just enough to look at your eyes once more. "And when I do, I'll make sure you'll never leave me again." "Don't cry, baby," he whispered, his voice little more than a whisper. "You'll be safe with me. I'll make sure no one else touches you. No one else can have you."

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | tokyo revengers m.list

taglist :: @theblueslytherin @shuzoku @katsunee @flunkedloser

[leahswife]

parent trap

author's note: while i do enjoy watching football, do not ask me any rules, i'm a newbie and I'll write whatever even if it's a little delulu thanks :) also this is more of an introduction for what i want to do next and i struggled so much with it, not knowing where to start so im sorry. it's also my first fic so pls don't be mean 😭

summary: in which two little girls unexpectedly come into yours and leah's life and decide to turn it all around with some mischief in the way (and maybe with a little help from kyra)

it was a nice sunny day out. mornings were a bit chilly but for london weather, it was surprisingly tolerable. you had come to work today, knowing you were gonna have some visits to do around the farm to some kids, as your surpervisor had given you a heads up the days before. your farm slash retreat slash sanctuary was situated in a calm area, far from the city noises and it was very big on raising awareness to people, often having visits from schools and groups of scouts, etc.

today you were having a nearby school visit. you and your co-workers were going to be separated into groups so you could show the kids all the animals and activities they could do.

luckily, when the group of 5-8 year olds came by, you were assigned with a small group that was relatively quiet but very interested in what you had to show them and very eager to answer some of your 'trivia' questions about the animals. two little girls, who were very obviously twins, clung a little bit more towards you throughout the visit and while one was more shy to ask you questions, the other one was enthusiastic about giving answers. 

by lunchtime, you and your co-workers gathered all of the kids in the canteen for a much needed break.

in the afternoon, you gathered your group on a table outside, so you could explain what the next part was. "okay, so who wants to feed our little goats?" you said, with a smile and enthusiasm for their obvious answers. "i want to feed tigers!" one of the twins, alba, exclaimed. you opened your mouth in fake shock and put your hands on your hips "did you see any tigers around here, miss alba?" she excitedly nodded. "well I'm sorry to burst your little bubble but we've got no tigers here. what you probably saw was 

oscar, our very grumpy orange cat." she pouted but quickly recovered her giddiness when you all walked towards the goats.

about half an hour later, the groups were dispersing a bit and some kids from your group ran to other kids to help them with other activities they were doing. you were trying not to laugh when you saw some of your colleagues trying to control some of the most energetic children when you felt a little tug on your shirt.

you looked down to see one of the twins, aurora, "y/n, is it true the arsenal team plays around here?" she asked quietly, with a shy smile on her face. you crouched down to her height and alba joined in on your little group. you were about to answer when alba quickly whispered "can we go see them??". you chuckled "let me check with my boss and your teachers, yeah? but you gotta keep it a secret from your friends, okay? or else everyone will want to go and right now, that's not possible." they both pretended to zip their mouths and nodded.

after you got the approval from their teachers and your supervisor to take them away for a little while, with a warning to not cause too much trouble, you signaled to the two girls to come after you. you walked out of the farm and they both stood on your sides holding your hands. it was about a 5 minute walk from your little farm to the arsenal training grounds, you knew the girls quite well as they were regular visitors and have done some charity work for the farm so visiting each others' work place to hang out in your free time wasn't uncommon.

"who are you guys excited to meet?" you smiled down at them. "all of them!" they both answered and you were a little surprised at aurora's raise of voice but happy she was feeling more comfortable around you. you had worked with many kids over the years but there were always ones that, for some reason, tugged at your soft heart and these two little girls had done it today. 

as you reached arsenal's training centre, you smiled and greeted the staff as you moved with the girls towards the field you knew the girls were at. 

the first person to caught your eye was obviously your big crush, leah williamson, who was sipping on some water as you approached her. "hey, williamson!" you kicked her butt with your foot since your hands were still holding the twins. that startled her and she turned around with a frown on her face, "hey!" she argued, but her frown quickly dissipated when she saw it was you and pushed you playfully. "asshole." "leah!" you quickly gestured to the girls with your head.

"oh, sh–, sorry!" she grimaced as the little girls looked at each other and giggled. you rolled your eyes at leah and introduced them, "leah, this is aurora," you raised the little blonde's hand on your left "and this is alba" who raised her spare hand immediately with a toothy grin. 

leah leaned down with a smile on her face "hi, i'm leah, nice to meet you" they both blushed, intimidated by being right in front of england's captain but their shyness quickly went away when leah asked if they wanted to meet everybody. they quickly nodded with excitement and the blonde led them to meet the rest of team.

you sat on the benches as you watched them all interact, the twins thrilled to meet some of their favourite players. you knew they were in good hands, so you shifted your gaze to leah, who had the biggest smile on her face as she got to play some football with the children.

"staring, are we?" you jumped a bit as kyra sat down next to you with a smirk on her face. you rolled your eyes "uhh, in case you haven't noticed, kyra cooney-cross, i'm keeping an eye out for those under my care." she rolled her eyes at you using her full name, it was a joke between you two when you wanted to annoy each other, but went back to teasing you "oh, i think your eyes are out for someone else y/f/n." "oh, and i think you're supposed to be training, not here biting my ass." she groaned and leaned on your shoulder, "but it's so much fun to annoy you" you smiled at your best friend and tugged on her hair bun. "go meet some people your age" you headed towards the twins and let out a little laugh as she pushed you. "i can't help annoying someone when they're so annoyingly in lo– ah!" you quickly elbowed her as you saw leah running over to you two.

"are you two fighting again?" leah raised her eyebrow with an amused smile on her face. "no, i'm doing you all a favour and putting her in her place." you said, shoving kyra as she stuck her tongue out at you. "i'm off to meet my fans, excuse you." kyra stands up and runs over to the small blondes playing with alessia and katie but not before winking at you behind leah's back.

"they are absolutely lovely." leah chuckled as she turns back to you. "right?? honestly, some of my favourite kids to come by the farm." "maybe it's because they kind of look like me." leah smirked and you couldn't help but scoff, "oh please, you wish you were that cute." she huffed and put her hands on your knees, leaning towards your face to bite the tip of your nose, a habit she learned from kyra in her many tactics to annoy you. you scrunched your nose and pretended to be annoyed by it, hiding how much you wanted leah to bite you basically everywhere and anywhere. in a way, you wish she knew how she made your heart almost combust with the amount of physical touch she was prone to giving you, maybe she would be kind enough to put you out of your misery. however, you couldn't help but crave these little moments, you would take anything leah would give you, even if it meant keeping your feelings to yourself and being content with being just friends.

that moment didn't last long as you both turned your heads behind leah's back when you heard a little scream and you saw kyra, alessia and katie on the ground checking up on aurora. you and leah quickly ran over to see what happened and saw aurora had scraped her knee. leah asked someone to get the first aid kit to disinfect the wound and turned back to aurora to rub her back and console her. "hey little one, how are you feeling?" you asked softly, but she was quick to put on a brave face and say she was fine. "you sure? we can call your parents to come get you if you want." you said, wanting to make sure the twin felt comfortable and safe. 

"we don't have parents." alba said nonchalantly while holding aurora's hand. that caught you and the girls around you off guard. "what do you mean, alba?" you frowned in confusion. "we live in a foster home!" the little girl exclaimed as alessia came over with the first aid kit and gave it to leah, who started to disinfect aurora's knee. "ohhh… in that case, i can call your carers if you want." "that's okay, it doesn't hurt that bad." aurora gave you a smile that only grew bigger when leah gave her a high five and praised how brave she was.

soon enough it was time to go back to the farm with the girls as the school was about to leave. the team said their goodbyes and the twins thanked them all, still mesmerized by getting to play with them for a bit. as you returned with them to the farm, they both hugged you and thanked you too for taking them to meet the team. you were a bit caught off guard but quickly melted and rubbed their little heads. you felt a weird pang in your heart as you watched them leave but just brushed it off as you being emotional and went on with the rest of your day.

quickly after that encounter though, the twins did not take much long to appear again at the farm. they became regular visitors and your bond grew stronger, often taking them to see arsenal and the team quickly became used to them as well. it was also not a surprise to anybody that when the girls were around, you and leah stepped up as the responsible figures for them, always making sure they were fine and always the ones they came to when they needed something. 

one afternoon, after work, you had taken the girls to the training centre and they were playing with kyra as you were talking to leah. "you know you shouldn't cut your hair right after you have a bad game, right?" you giggled as you flicked the strands of her new fringe. "hey! it is not because we had a bad game. i am a fashion trender. i make things a trend." she took off her head band to fluff her fringe with her hands and posed for you. 

"riiiight, i almost forgot you were 'the powerful, the brilliant, the leah williamson'" she was quick to give you a mocking smile, clearly displeased with the overused quote. "well yes, i am brilliant and powerful but you can't deny i have an amazing fashion sense!" "i don't think impulsively getting a haircut after a bad game falls into that category, though" you couldn't help but giggle at her frown. soon, she took matters into her own hands and grabbed your waist to start tickling you at your sides, something that made you squeal and try to get away from her, screaming for help. "stop screaming, you baby!" she stopped the tickling but pulled you in close to kiss the top of your head.

meanwhile, kyra, alba and aurora had stopped their game and were watching you and leah interact. "are they girlfriends?" aurora asked kyra. kyra looked down at them and shook her head "as much as it pains me to say, no, they aren't." alba quickly looked at aurora with a mischievous smile in her face.

"you're thinking what i'm thinking?"

"i'm thinking what you're thinking."

a/n: also if you want to send in some requests regarding this fic, you're welcome to do so :)

[tomssexdoll]

"I just need love for one night"

PAIRINGS: Tom 2010 x Female reader

CONTENT: SMUT

SYPNOSIS: Tom is known as a player, a famous guitarist for his band Tokio Hotel. He is known for fucking girls and just dumping them afterwards, but this time it was different, he felt drawn to y/n, she wasn't like any other woman he hooked up with, she was confident, not throwing herself onto him.

A/N: if you want to be tagged or i accidently missed your tag comment on my pinned masterlist <3

WARNINGS: dom!tom, sub!reader, p in v (missionary), eating out, fingering, light mentions of alcohol

Tom Kaulitz, the lead guitarist of his band Tokio Hotel, a player, womaniser, at least that's how he made himself out to be. I was out at a bar, having some drinks with my friends when he waltzed in, wearing his signature black bandana, his black braids resting on his shoulder, his dark blue jeans and white shirt, topped off with a baggy black jacket.

He walked like he owned the place, eyeing women up and down, a cocky smile on his face as looked around. He was hot, I had to admit. I didn't know much about him, other than he was in a famous band. I mean, his face was plastered all over the city, promoting their album and upcoming tour.

Him and his band mates sat down next to me, all ordering their drinks. Once he took notice of me he decided to make his move, leaning closer to me, "what's your name sweetheart?" he said, flashing me a charming smile, his eyes locking onto mine.

"Y/N," I said bluntly, his gaze lingered over my body as I spoke, "mmh..such a lovely name for a lovely girl.." he chuckled, a hint of a german accent lacing his words, moving his hand gently up my thigh.

"Don't touch!" I slapped his hand off, a surprised look washing over his face before his cocky smile returned, "mmh..feisty are we? I like that," he chuckled, a low and sultry sound.

His hand slowly inched back towards my thigh, the challenge in my eyes only fuelled his desire to conquer me. "Let me get you a drink princess, anything you want, hm?" he leaned in even closer, his breath hot against my ear, the scent of his cologne enveloping me.

"Just a vodka redbull," I smirked, not passing on the opportunity for a free drink. By now my friends were gone, they ditched me to go dance and flirt with guys. Tom signalled the bartender, ordering the drink I requested and a shot of whiskey for himself. His eyes never left mine as he leaned back into his stool.

Once the bartender has prepared my drink, Tom handed it over with a smirk, his fingers brushing against mine, "here we go, sweet thing," he watched as I took small sips, humming in approval.

His pupils dilated as he kept watching me, the way my lips wrapped around the straw, desire building up rapidly in him. "I want to see those lips wrapped around something else besides that straw.." he said, his voice husky and low.

"Yeah I'm sure you do.." I flirted back, I had to admit, his dirty talk and flirting had an effect of me, but he didn't have to know that. I didn't want to just leap into his arms like most girls, I wanted him to earn it.

After an hour of more flirting and drinking, I stood up, "let's get out of here," I smirked, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the bar. Once outside, he quickly opened the door of his sleek, black sports car with a flourish, helping me inside, "after you sweetheart," I sat in the passenger seat, getting comfortable as he started the car, the engine roaring as he sped off.

As we drove I noticed he was acting really restless, his forehead sweaty and his hands fidgety on the wheel, "are you okay?" I chuckled, noticing the way he kept glancing back and forth at my cleavage, a smirk forming on my face "it's nothing.." he huffed out, his jaw clenched as he tried to fight back his urges, "if you say so.." I said, looking out the window.

I wasn't going to be like most girls and jump at the opportunity to fuck him, I wanted him to get riled up, to crave me, give into his desires without me having to do anything.

Tom let out a low growl, unable to resist any longer. He quickly pulled the car over, the tired screeching as the car came to a halt on the side of the road, "fuck it.." he grumbled, reaching out and grabbing my face roughly, smashing his lips into mine.

My eyes widened and I immediately kissed him back, our lips moving in a passionate rhythm. He couldn't get enough of me, his tongue exploring every inch of my mouth, his fingers tangling in my hair, pulling on it roughly as he deepened the kiss. He couldn't wait until he got home, he needed me now.

"Get in the back seat baby..." he mumbled against my lips, pulling away from the kiss to look into my eyes, his eyes dark with lust. Without waiting for a response he unbuckled both of our seatbelts, I climbed into the backseat first, he followed shortly after, pulling me on top of his lap.

I gently grinded on his crotch, pulling him back into another passionate kiss as I reached down, unbuttoning my skirt and sliding my tight top off. "Fuck..you're so hot.." he grunted against my lips, helping me remove my clothes, his hands lingering on every inch of my exposed skin.

He could feel his cock hardening beneath me, straining against the zipper of his pants. He quickly laid me down onto the cool leather seats, taking off my skirt completely. He then reached down into his pocket, pulling out a condom and taking it between his teeth. He fidgeted with his belt, quickly undoing his jeans and sliding them down, the only barrier between us being his boxers and my stockings.

"Fuck..." he gasped, tracing his fingers up and down my legs, easing closer to my burning heat. He couldn't wait any longer, pushing his boxers down and freeing his thick, throbbing cock. His large calloused hands gripped my hips, groaning in relief as he rubbed the head of his dick against my wet panties, coating it in my juices.

"Fuck, I need to be inside you now.." he groaned, tearing the plastic wrapping of the condom, placing the rubber on his tip and slowly sliding it down, letting it engulf his entire cock.

As he finished, he reached down, ripping a hole in my stockings to make his way to my needy cunt, not caring about the damage. He spread my legs wide, pushing my panties to the side and thrusting his cock inside of me in one brutal stroke, not even giving me a moment to adjust to his size.

"Fuck!" I whined, he grabbed my wrists, pinning them above my head as he began to thrust into me roughly, his hips pounding against mine as he gives into his desires. The sound of my skin slapping against his filling the car, the air hot and thick with longing.

I moaned loudly, looking up at him as his cock slammed into me brutally, his face contorting in pleasure as his length repeatedly fucked my tight hole, feeling it clench around him.

He leaned down, capturing my mouth in a brutal kiss as he continued to fuck me relentlessly. His tongue dominated mine, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip as he swallowed my moans. His thrusts became even more punishing, his balls slapping against my ass with each powerful stroke.

"Oh my god! Fuckk!" I cried out, throwing my head back as I felt his tip teasing my g spot. "You like that, don't you, you little slut.." he moaned against my lips, his voice rumbling against my chest as he continued to work his pulsing cock inside me. "I knew you were made for this cock, from the moment I laid my eyes on you.." he smirked, trailing kisses down my cheek to my neck, sucking harshly.

"Fuck..you're so tight, so fucking perfect.." he snarled, his voice muffled against my neck, he left dark purple hickeys all over my neck and shoulder. He leaned back to admire his handiwork, grinning with a dominating, possessive smirk.

He couldn't get enough of my pussy, basically drunk off of it, he hoisted my legs up onto his shoulders, the new angle allowing him to drive his cock even further into my sopping hole. "Yess! Fuck it's so good, oh my god!" I whimpered, arching my back to meet his thrusts.

"Cum for me baby, cmon!" he said, raising his voice, his eyes rolling back in his head as he felt my pussy clench around his cock, milking him for all he's worth.

With one final, brutal thrust, he sent the both of us into orgasm, burying himself to the hilt inside me and erupting, his massive load of thick cum flooding my pussy. I let out a string of soft whines and moans as I came on his cock, my juicy slowly dripping down his cock.

"I need you again..fuck I can't get enough of you.." he mumbled, his chest heaving as he calmed down from his orgasm. It was funny, Tom Kaulitz, known player wanted me so badly? Allegedly he'd just fuck girls and leave, but this time, it was different.

It's like he was addicted to me, he couldn't get enough of my touch, my pussy, my skin, everything, "you're so fucking beautiful..so perfect, need to make you mine.." he groaned, slowly moving his head in between my thighs.

He kissed and licked my inner thighs, his tongue tracing patterns on my sensitive skin until he reached my dripping wet cunt. He parted my lips with his fingers and buried his face between them, devouring my pussy like a starved man.

"Oh my god...fuck..mmh..so good.." he grumbled, his chest heaving as his tongue lashing against my swollen clit, sucking on it greedily as his hands grabbed onto my thighs tightly, his fingers digged into my skin possessively, a sign of his unyielding desire for me.

I moaned loudly, grinding my pussy against his face, my hand travelling down to his braids, gentling tugging on them, "fuckk! Keep going!" I whined. Tom growled against my flesh, spreading my thighs even wider as he buried his face deeper into my folds. His tongue thrusted in and out of me, mimicking the motion of his hips as he devoured me whole.

He was thrilled at the taste of my arousal and the feeling of my body shaking beneath him. He sucked on my clit harshly as his fingers creeped up, plunging into me, hooking upwards to hit that sensitive spot inside.

"Fuck!" I yelped, he chuckled softly at my reaction, he continued to work his fingers in and out of me, fucking me relentlessly. "You're so wet for me, aren't you?" he smirked, adding a third finger into my tight hole, stretching me further, "y-yes! All for you!" I whimpered, throwing my head back.

His mouth never left my clit, sucking and licking it furiously, "i'm gonna keep going until you cum all over my face, understand?" he growled, I nodded eagerly, my eyes screwed shut as I focused on my orgasm.

He increased the pace of his fingers, pounding into my pussy with reckless abandon as he sucked my clit with savage intensity. The combination of his hand and mouth was too much for me to handle and I could feel my orgasm building to a crescendo, my chest heaving intensely, "fuck, you're going to cum, aren't you?" he chuckled, noticing how much his actions were affecting me.

I couldn't form any words, just nodding my head and moaning loudly, answering all of toms questions. The sound of my moans spurred him on, doubling the intensity of his fingers as he started to feel me clench around them, feeling my body tense up "cum for me, cmon baby!" he raised his voice, egging me on.

It all became too much and my orgasm crashed down, I moaned loudly and came all over his fingers, my legs shaking as I rode out my high. I panted, trying to regain my breath after such an intense orgasm. He smirked, slowly sliding his fingers out of me, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean, "mmh...delicious," he murmured, his voice low and satisfied.

He helped me put my clothes back on, kissing me gently and carrying me back to the passenger seat. Before taking off back to my house, he asked for my number, but it was almost like he was too embarrassed to ask, I giggled at his shyness and grabbed his phone, typing in my number.

As he dropped me off home, he couldn't stop thinking about me, his thoughts clouded by me. He found himself longing for me, craving me like a drug, needing me around him, not just for sex but just to be around me like he had never before. He had never felt like this with any other girl, forming no emotional attachment to them, but this was different, he needed me again.

He smiled at his phone, my number staring back at him.

tags: @ballhair @bills-wife-1 @bkaulitzlover

tags: @ella1289 @tomscumdoll @billsdolliest

tags: @tomkslut @billsdolliest @miyukafujii

tags: @pa1n-0f-l0ve @tomsfuckdoll

[lazypanartist]

Hobie Brown x Artistic/DIY Reader

I love him 💙

pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4

Warnings: maybe spoilers for ATSV, IDK. Reader's in the punk scene and from Hobie's universe. Whole lotta projection. Canon-typical injuries

Features info dumping and personal Hobie HCs I guess. It's long ASF. And just self indulgent

Please RB, likes alone don't do anything for the algorithm!

-----

DIY/punk Hobie Brown

If you're in the scene, you know the basics

Patches?

Hand-Stitched

Usually with dental floss for durability/cost efficiency

And originally painted with white-out for the same reasons

Spikes or studs?

Cheap, bulk buy, screw em on yourself

Or just make em out of cans

Hobie's fit looks like it fits the bill

Old leather or denim jacket with the sleeves cut off

FN/SM painted on the back

Shirt's kinda tattered iirc

Spiked collars are easy

Same with the wristbands

When he meets you?

Whoo boy

It was one of his shows he was putting on

New songs, new faces in the crowd

He spots you from a distance at first

Little sketchbook in hand

You stay through his whole performance

When he's chatting up the crowd afterwards, though?

You're already gone

(Bitch writes a song about the pretty thing watching from afar, bc ofc he does)

He next sees you during one of President Osborne's speeches

Standing in the front row of a gathered crowd, shaking your head at the screen

He drops down after a few minutes, hanging upside down and blocking the less-than-pleasant view

He takes a few moments between questions from others

Little explanations

A promise to do what he can

Takes just a glimpse to look you over

You have a similar touch to the rest of the crowd

Worn out boots, tattered clothes, hand-sewn and painted patches

And your sketchbook still in hand

It's a little peculiar for the crowd

But he doesn't question it

What he does question is where you've gone after he turns to look at you

He only took a second for more reassurances

But when he goes to see you again

You're gone, just like the first time you caught his eye

He realizes then

That he's intrigued

He doesn't know what it is about you

Until he keeps seeing you pop up again

Riots

Concerts

Shows

Speeches

His immaterial object of interest

He finally starts actually talking to you the third or fourth time he sees you

At another of Osborne's liefests

An ambassador on a stage, surrounded by punks

Speaking of the President's virtues

Yeah

Spider-Punk shows up pretty quickly to run him off

And gets to chatting with you

When he first approaches, you ask for his opinion on a patch idea

And turn your sketchbook to show him the page

His spider symbol backpiece

But instead of FN/SM, it simply states

"Down With President Osborne"

He takes your pen and signs as a seal of approval before swinging away

Sure, it was a short interaction

But it led to even more meaningful ones

Like, say..

Him practically dropping out of the sky into a park

You were just minding your business, sketching the scenery

When he almost fell on top of you.

Covered in injuries

He laughs when he looks up and sees that it's you

Because of course it's you

Tries to resist when you start futzing over him

If you're the parent friend like me?

Patch him up

PLEASE

Even if you can't see him back together

Just

Bandaids and gauze pads

And maybe some candy

Bc suckers help with creativity

Or it's just my neurodivergence? Idk

Just. Offer him one in case he needs to bite on something while you're putting alcohol on his injuries

When you're done he looks them over

Promptly winces when he twists his arm 🙄

But then thanks you for your help and swings off

Again

These kinds of interactions become common

He'll find you hanging around the city

Either doodling or just vibing

And drops down to talk for a bit

Or get patched up

Loves when you offer to fix his costume

Bc it looks just as nice & homemade as the rest of your/his fits

Grins under his mask when he sees a new patch or two

And starts snickering if you deny their application

He really appreciates everything you do for him

And figures he should prove it

Sure, he's saved you

But he's saved a lot of people..

He wants this to be special

Unique

And he thinks he knows how to do that..

---

Click for next part

[monster-disaster]

[orc & bear shifter] Thrak & Rowan

orc!Thrak x human!Reader x bear shifter!Rowan Good to know: smut

Summary: After the guests leave, your boyfriends help you to relax.

"This is the last round," Rowan says with a few more glasses in his hands. A quiet thud follows his words as he pushes the door close behind himself. "Good," you hum, scrubbing a plate under the water while Thrak waits for it with a towel. He is next to you. Your arm brushes against his every now and again as you move. "Did you enjoy yourself?" The bear shifter breaks the silence again after sitting down in front of you at the other side of the counter. You smile. "Of course. Your families are really nice." "They like you too," Thrak says, putting away the glasses you are done with. "I hope so." "They do," Rowan says with a reassuring smile. "My mother already invited us over for breakfast next Sunday."

You feel relieved as the men continue to talk. Meeting new people is always hard on you, especially when they are important to your boyfriends, but the day truly went amazingly. Rowan and Thrak gathered their families and friends to introduce you as their girlfriend.

You still can't believe how your life changed in a few weeks. You came to Ironridge to get away from the city, and now you live with two men you fell in love with at a terrifying speed. Your house in Meriad is rented out, and your things are in the living room, still in boxes.

"Now," Thrak's voice wakes you up from your thoughts. He is behind you. His broad chest is pressed against your back, and his breath fans over your ear and the curve of your neck. "We can continue unpacking, or we can make you relax a little." "Oh?" You gasp, already feeling the familiar clench in your stomach. Anticipation surges through your veins. "You were so stressed lately," Rowan grins with a knowing glint in his deep green eyes. "I think you deserve a relaxing night." "I think Rowan is right," Thrak hums, his lips brushing over the sensitive part under your ear. His tusks graze the soft skin there. "What do you say?" "Okay," you gasp, pressing yourself even closer to his body. He towers over you easily, slipping his hands on your hips. The squeeze of his fingers goes straight to your pussy. Your panties are already soaked, and they barely touched you. "Then be a good girl and bend over," the big orc grunts behind you, grinding his erection against your ass as you do as he says. You can feel the cold surface of the counter even through your shirt. Your nipples harden into small peaks.

Thrak's fingers slip under the waist of your shorts, and with a quick pull, you find yourself bare in front of his hungry eyes. A gasp leaves your lips when you feel his grip on the flesh of your bottom. He gropes your ass, pulling your cheeks apart to see you better. An approving growl escapes his chest, sending goosebumps all over your body. Heat creeps up your face at the vulnerable position he put you in.

"She is already wet," he says. Your center burns and aches under his heavy gaze. "Yeah," Rowan hums. "I can smell her." You are still not used to Rowan's sensitive smell. He knows whenever you are horny, it makes you excited and humiliated at the same time. "Grab the edge of the counter and pull yourself up a bit, Nora," Thrak orders you again, but you don't even have time to react. Your fingers curl on the edge while he grabs you again to adjust you in front of him. Your legs hang in the air, and the wooden counter digs into your hips. "Please," you groan impatiently. "Thrak?" You know he enjoys the whine in your voice a bit too much to your liking. You can hear the orc moving behind you, kneeling down and moving closer. His touch smoothes over the wet slit of your pussy, opening you up with his fingers. "So pretty," he hums. You can feel his words in your wet center. Your walls flutter around nothing. "Such a pretty pussy." "Thrak," you moan his name again, pushing yourself back to him. "Please." "What do you want, hm?" He teases you mercilessly. "Tell me, Nora, and I will do it." The answer is at the tip of your tongue, but you can't find your voice. The need to feel him throbs inside you, making it impossible to think straight.

Suddenly, Rowan's hand cups your face, making you look up at his tall form in front of you.

He and Thrak are similar in a lot of things. They are sturdy and powerful. They manhandle you with ease, not even feeling your weight in their thick arms. Rowan is barely shorter than his friend, and while Thrak's body is hard muscles everywhere, the bear shifter has a bit of softness.

The man says nothing as he leans down to kiss you. His lips brush over yours, his beard tickles your face, and his tongue slides into your mouth when you sigh at the feeling. "Tell him what you want," he encourages you after breaking away to let you breathe. "Use your words, love." You don't know how much you can bear between these men. "I want your tongue, Thrak," you force the words out. Your voice is breathless and impatient. "I want your mouth on my pussy." Your confession draws a satisfied growl out of them, and you almost scream when Thrak buries his face in your glistening pussy.

The orc uses his hands to keep you open for him. Flattening his tongue, he licks a long, wet line across your slit. His tusks dig into the sensitive part where your thighs meet your center. They graze your skin with every move he makes. His lush lips close around your clit. His tongue flicks and teases the small bud.

"Ohgodohgodohgod," you chant breathlessly. You whine and wiggle in his hold, trying to grind yourself against his face some more. Thrak's chin is soaked in your wetness. His senses are filled with your taste and smell. His cock twitches in his pants, throbbing with the need to pound into your warm channel.

"Open up for me, love," Rowan's voice straightens your thoughts for a second. When you lift your head to look up at the man in front of you, he stands with his cock in his hand. He jerks himself off lazily, watching the curve of your ass and the delirious heat in your eyes. Your lips fall open on their own accord, waiting for the bear shifter to step closer. Rowan draws the line of your lips with the swollen head of his erection. Your ragged breathing fans over the sensitive skin of his shaft.

You can almost hear the bear in him when he growls as he pushes himself into your mouth. He grabs a good chunk of your hair to keep you in position while Thrak is still busy with your seeping cunt. Your muffled groan resonates through Rowan's length up to his spine when you feel the orc pushing his tongue into your hole.

Both of them fuck you in sync while you lay on the counter, letting them do whatever they want. The wet sound of Thrak devouring you and the mixed moans and groans fill the otherwise quiet house.

"Don't!" Rowan grunts out, pulling himself out of your mouth at the last second. His free hand squeezes around the base of his cock. "I don't want to cum yet. I want my seed in your pussy." Your walls flutter around Thrak's tongue at Rowan's words. You can almost feel him stretching you out and filling you up. But instead, you feel the orc's thick fingers inside you. He thrusts into you while his mouth goes back to your clit. "She is almost there," he growls. "I can feel her gripping my fingers. Fuck!"

The hot coil inside you snaps with such force you can't even breathe. Your hole squeezes around Thrak while your body shakes and jerks without your control. Your blood burns in your veins, and still, you want to beg for more.

Rowan smirks at the mess they made out of you. Satisfaction stretches his chest as his gaze meets with Thrak's. They don't have to say anything to agree that with your arrival, they have everything they ever wanted. "Come on, love," Thrak grunts, scooping you up from the counter. "We are not done with you yet."

- Masterlist Ironridge Masterlist Patreon

[mackeydoodledoo]

She Wears Short Skirts, I Wear T-Shirts: Chapter 7

Pairing: Bridget (Cheerleader AU) x (Fem!)Reader

Chapter Summary: 4 Years.... You hadn't seen her since high school. You really haven't kept in touch with anyone since. You've always been forcing yourself into your music with your bandmates. At the end of another local show, a familiar face faces you again...

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, 2nd Chance Slow-Burn

Chapter Key: Italics = Thoughts, +*+ = Time Skip, F/n = Friend's name, B/n = Band Name, Bold/Italic = Flashback

Chapter Theme: I2I - Magnolia Park/Disney

A/n: If anyone has heard of 'A Whole New Sound', specifically the chapter's theme - it's amazing.

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

*Y/n's POV* You rush off of the stage and head to the merch table to help F/n's girlfriend as a line of people begins to build.

It felt odd being back home...

Since graduating high school, and the tour right after the fact, your band moved to the city, and put out an EP. F/n and her girlfriend are engaged...

Life's crazy.

Popularity was steady. You go to other towns to open, and open at venues in the city...

+*+

You help her break down the merch stand as your bandmates bring the packed stuff to their cars.

"Great show," A very familiar voice makes you stop in your tracks

"Oh... It's you..." F/n sighs, rolling her eyes, "You might want to take this one..."

As if you didn't have a guess on who it could be. F/n takes the last merch bin from your hands as you stare blankly into the car via trunk.

"Y/n, I know you can hear me," Her voice says

You slowly turn around, stiff. However, lightly gasp.

It was Bridget...

Only...

It definitely didn't look like her...

But it was her.

Her pink hair? Gone.

Bright, peppy style? Watered down to less brighter clothing.

"Bridget...." You say

Awkward silence other than your condensed breathing...

"That's all you have to say to me?" She asks

You shut your friend's trunk and brush past her.

"I don't have time for this right now Bridget," You wave her off over your shoulder

"But, I do," She says, following behind you

"You can speak now while I finish upbringing these out," You say, picking up one last container

"No, I want to speak to you face to face," She says

"I can't bear to look at you right now," You sigh, putting the container in the bassist's truck bed, "Now go home. I'm sure Hook isn't pleased you're here to see me."

"Yeah... About that..." She sighs

"What?" You scoff, "Hook cheat on you or something?"

You turn when she doesn't answer right away. So you turn to look at her but the tension in your body goes away when you see her nails nearly clawing at her elbows, and her lip quivering.

"Get in," is what comes out of your mouth

I might regret this....

She walks over to your passenger seat and gets in with no other words exchanged.

"Y/n!" F/n whisper-hisses

You look over and see them throwing their arms in the air; 'what the fuck?!' written on their face. Your face contorts with; 'I might regret this..' You walk to the drivers side and get into it. You drive off from the venue, going to your go-to late-night food stop.

"Ahh, Y/n, long time no see," The manager smiles, "I'll get your usual ready."

"I have Bridget with me too," You say

"Ahh, I'll get her usual ready as well!" He adds

The sliding door closes for a moment before he opens it to take your card to cash out the order.

"You know, in the last four years, Bridget comes to this place and orders whatever she got the first time you've brought her here," He tells you, giving your card back

You sit and wait for him to bring back the food.

"Hook never approved, so I had always gone here on my own when I'm home for the weekend," Bridget confesses

"Of course he didn't," You sigh, "It's practically soul food. Really hits the spot after a long day."

+*+

After getting food, you stop in the downtown pavilion.

"How often do you come home?" You ask, "Just to eat this food?"

"Mostly every weekend..." She answers, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve, "Part of me hoping to see you here...."

"Well, if you must know, I have my own place in the city now," You say

"Is that so?" She sighs, sounding sad

"Well, I'm not driving back there tonight," You add, "Need a bit of a scenic change..."

"Oh... What about your music?" She asks

"We're kinda taking a break," You answer, "We've just been doing our local shows. Had to cap off ticket sales when we hit the capacity."

"Well, lucky me then," Bridget says, "I try to get into the small, local shows... But, only been lucky this one time..."

"Oh... You still follow our socials then?..." You say

"You sound upset about that..." Bridget says

"No, I'm not upset. Just surprised about it," You clarify, "You know, after Hook, at least from what I've seen, wouldn't let you listen to anything pertaining to the band. Especially me. If it's okay to ask, what... Happened between the two of you?"

She puts her food down and sighs, trying to find where to begin...

"You really don't have to start way back when," You say, "Just when you found out or whatever..."

"Okay," She says, "Basically, I walked into his apartment, wanting to surprise him after I came back from my culinary internship.... Saw a girl sitting on the couch next to him; his arm wrapped around her any everything..."

"Ouch," You say

"Blocked him on everything," She continues, "But, saw his pathetic apologies before then."

Well, now she knows how I felt about simply seeing her with Hook after winter break...

"How long ago?" You ask

"Last month," She answers, "At least, I found out last month."

"Ouch, harder," You sigh, "You two weren't living together right?"

"No, I wanted my own place," She says

"Must have been hard for Hook," You say, "Or not. I don't know."

"Might not have been," She tries to not cry

"Where'd your pink hair go?" You ask, changing the subject

"Felt too connected to high school," She says, wiping emerging tears

"Come on, you were the most popular girl in the halls," You say

"Ended up not feeling worth it," She says

"Hmm... Is blonde your natural hair color?" You ask

She nods, "Who in their right mind would go around, saying that their natural hair color is pink?"

"No one," You chuckle, "Do you... Still do cheerleading?"

"Yeah, at Auradon University," She answers, "Not the captain but it's nice not having so much responsibility on your shoulders for a change. You should come to a game. The girls would be ecstatic to find out I know someone in a bad they love."

"Oh?" You ask, "They love my friends and I?"

"Oh, absolutely, I never hear the end of it," She says, "I wanted to say that I went to high school with two of the members, but I got scared that if I do, I'd be asked so many questions. I also hadn't seen you until tonight..."

"Hmmm..." You say, "Well, I just might make an appearance. I have to make sure it'll fit into my schedule."

"You would do that?" She asks

"Why not make them jealous?" You joke

+*+

You pull into her driveway... Taking you back down memory lane.

"Thanks for... Driving me home," She sighs into a smile

"You're welcome," You slightly smile, "I'll possibly see you around."

As you reach back home, you greet your parents, and head off to your room. As soon as you flop into bed, you see a text from F/n.

Dude, are you serious? What? You seriously drove around with Bridget?! I thought you weren't on a talking basis with her. She revealed some shit I'm not disclosing. It seemed pretty serious. Ugh I cannot believe you sometimes. My life, I'll fuck it up my way. Just.... Be careful this time. I will.

You throw on your pajamas and see a text from Bridget.

Hey... Hey, you doing okay? Yeah, I just wanted to ask if you were doing anything tomorrow. Not that I know of. Why? There's a fall market somewhere in the city that I've always wanted to go to. Care to join me? Oh the Central Fall Market. Sure. I can take you to one of my favorite places down there too. I'd like that :) See you tomorrow Yeah. Goodnight Y/n, thanks. For what? A lot of things.

You plug your phone in and adjust yourself into your bed comfortably and lay there until your eyes grew heavy.

+*+

You put on your warmest jacket.. You were kinda excited to finally go to the market, but nervous on how it will go with Bridget.

"Careful honey," Your mom says

"You know I will," You say

You drive a few doors down to her house; Bridget waiting for you on her porch. Almost immediately she runs to your car with barely any time to put the car in park.

+*+

You find decent parking and the both of you begin walking to the marketplace.

"Have you been here yet?" She asks

"Not yet," You answer, "I'm really more about the oddities things, not the cutesy market kind of thing."

You watch as she rushes to a random stand....

"Hey I'm going to look around a bit," You whisper in her ear

She turns to you and nearly gasps at how close you were to her face. Your eyes move to her lips but quickly move back up to her eyes. You clear your throat as you walk to the stand that caught your eye.

You see crotched things. You pick up a few of them and hand the vendor your money.

"Thanks Y/n," They say

"Oh, you know my name?" You ask them

"I follow your band," She mentions, "Been to a few shows here and there. Ya'll are a vibe."

"Thanks," You simply say and then walk away

You walk back over to Bridget, who was now eyeing some bar soap. You tap her shoulder and she turns to you. You hold up a paper bag and the second she looks into it, she squeals. In the midst of her excitement, she gives you a kiss on the cheek. You stand there as you watch Bridget happily moves onto the next area.

+*+

The both of you find a hot chocolate stand and you buy to chocolate for the both of you. The only open seating was a loveseat in the corner, near the window.

"Sorry," She says

"For?" You ask, trying to keep yourself composed as much as possible

"Making you uncomfortable," She says, "You're all stiff. That's not good for the cold."

She swings her arm around your shoulder and leans you back into the couch with her.

"I've kinda missed moments like these," She confesses, "Hook never wanted to do the simple things like these.... Saw them as boring and rather go to a party instead."

"Have you gone to some?" You ask

"A few... The types if parties he takes me to... Aren't for me," She says

"That sucks," You sigh, "What kind of thing... Do you like?"

"Simple strolls through the market," She gestures to what the both of you were doing, "The simpler things. You're a whole celebrity, and yet you're making the time to do these things."

"Well, like I said, my friends and I are on a break from music," You clarify, "Performing is on a 'need openers' basis."

"Still, you're the popular one now," She chuckles

"I don't care about popularity," You say, "People here know when to treat a musician like a regular person. They'll acknowledge me, ask for a photo or auto here and there. But, have yet to be stalked."

"Hope not," She says, "About the stalking part."

"Hmm..." You sigh, leaning onto her shoulder

The both of you watch as people begin filing out to the city.

"Hungry yet?" You ask

"A little, yeah," She answers, "Taking me to that place you were talking about?"

"Yep, come on, let's get food," You stand, holding your hand out to her

You watch as she slightly smiles, takes your hand and stands up after you.

+*+

You park your car in the lot and get out, waiting for Bridget to follow.

"Hey Y/n!" The hostess greets you as soon as you walk in the door, "Just you again?"

"Actually...." You say, stepping to the side, revealing Bridget

"Oh! You've finally brought a date!" She grabs a few menus, "Follow me."

"Date?" Bridget whispers, following behind you

"Oh, it's nothing," You try to play it off

"We're one of the only places open late, so she always comes here," The hostess continues talking, "She mentioned someone she had a crush on, hoping to bring her here one day."

"Okay thanks!" You raise your voice

She snickers and she walks away.

"What was that about?" She asks, sitting across from you

"Since moving here, I've needed to find a new post-concert food stop over here," You explain, "This is the place."

"Cheating on your hometown post-concert food place are we?" She teases you

"Hey, doesn't count if I'm not there all the time," You argue

"Fair point," She sighs

The both of you order food.

"What did the hostess mean by 'you finally brought a date'?" She asks

"Like she said, I mentioned wanting to bring a specific person here," You say

"Is that... Person me?" She asks

"Maybe, maybe not," You take a sip of your drink

*Bridget's POV* She chuckles as she leans back into the chair and sips her drink. You look at her wrist; a tattoo.

"I noticed you had a sleeve," You point out, "What is it?"

"You'll see eventually," She replies

A waitress comes with some food and she continues leaning back in her chair.

"What?" You ask

"Take the first bite," She tells you, "I want to see your reaction."

You take the food off the plate and take the first bite. Your mouth waters as you take another, and another...

*Y/n's POV* "See?" You chuckle, beginning to eat, "Hits the spot after a gig down here."

"Does this place have any other locations?" Bridget asks

"Not that I know of. Hey, W/n, is there any other locations of this place?" You call your waitress over

"Probably in the next city over.... Auradon, I think," She answers

"Oh! I'll have to check out that one too," Bridget says, 'I attend Auradon University."

"Ugh, that prep college for rich snobby kids?" She scoffs

"Hey hey, Bridget, isn't a rich snobby kid," You defend her

"I'm so sorry Y/n," She raises her hands in defeat, "I didn't realize that your girlfriend... Was..."

Your eyes widen and you give her the stare of; 'go.' So she doeskin most likely going to figure out how to earn your forgiveness.

"Girlfriend?" Bridget blushes

"She's at Vill Isle University," You explain, "Auradon's biggest rival."

"I don't care about being called rich or snobby," She says, "She called me your girlfriend."

Of all things....

"Sometimes people say things under stress," You explain, "Plus, they all like me in here. I'm basically a regular."

The both of you finish dinner and begin driving back to your hometown.

"We have a show coming up next weekend in the city if you want to go," You say

"I'd love to," She replies, "But, it looked like it was sold out..."

"I can get you an all access pass," You blurt out

"You'd... Do that?" She asks

Kinda...

"Yeah," You say, "You'd have to just give them your ID to verify you're the person that's on the list. I'll get it taken care of tomorrow."

"Thank you," She says

You walk Bridget to her front door.

"Thanks for today," She says, "I honestly needed it."

"Good," You sigh

"I'm sorry," She says

"For?...." You ask, as if you didn't have a guess

"High school shit," She says

"Don't worry about it," You say, rolling your eyes, "That was awhile ago and-"

"No, I need to apologize for it," She says, "There-there had been a lot and-"

"Hey whoa slow down," You say, cupping her cheek

She stops...

"Why don't we talk about it another day then?" You suggest

She nods.

You sigh as you gently kiss her forehead. You saw the flush flooding to her cheeks. You clear your throat as you slowly retract your hand, putting it back down to your side.

*Bridget's POV* "Uhm, goodnight Bridget," She waves you off

You watch her leave your driveway and back down the road. The feel of her forehead kiss lingers.

Chapter 8

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Seven: Thursday

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Moon Boys x F!Reader

Summary: You’re a workaholic, but now that you’re on a week’s vacation, your lives are going to take FULL advantage of your presence aka the Moon Boys keep you in bed for a whole week.

Warning: smut - semi-public, teasing (reader's a little bratty in this one), a little bit of dom/sub tones, grinding, p in v

Series Masterlist

You've finally allowed your loves to take you outside of your shared apartment.

"Just a few hours outside, honey. Get some vitamin D."

You smirked at Marc as he led you outside, "Oh, I think I've been getting more than enough D, Marc."

He playfully rolled his eyes at you as he wrapped his arm around your waist and kissed your temple, murmuring, "Behave."

"Or what? I'll get a spanking? Don't threaten me with a good time, Spector."

Marc groaned, "You're going to be insufferable, aren't you?"

You shrugged, "This is what happens when you make me go outside instead, we could be inside going at it like rabbits. But whatever."

______________

Marc brought you to a new cafe that opened up a few blocks from the apartment. You'd seen it passing by at one point, but never had the time to check it out. Since you're not working for the week, this was the perfect opportunity.

He ordered himself a sandwich and you a panini and a strawberry cake. Your usual drink of choice, but with a flavored syrup that they had available.

You and Marc now sit in the back corner, away from the rest of the cafe patrons.

Marc watches as you sip your drinking, testing the flavors. You nod, approving of its taste, "I like it!" you slide your drink across to Marc and he takes a sip. He nods like you and murmurs, "Good."

You then take a bite out of your panini, giving the most sinful moan. Marc, sipping from his own drink, starts to loudly cough to cover your sounds.

Oh, she's going to be trouble today, it seems, Steven says to Marc.

You smirk at him while you chew your food and he frowns at you, "Baby?"

"Hm?"

"What're you doing?"

"Eating. This is a really good panini, hon. Try it," you hold it out to him and he shake his head, "I'm good."

With eyes like a hawk, Marc watches as you continue to eat your food. When you go to drink your beverage, you "accidentally" spill some on you. The liquid falling down your cleavage.

"Whoops!" You pull down your shirt a little more to show more of your breasts to Marc, "Silly me," you say as you wipe yourself down.

Marc sighs and runs a hand down his face, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching you, "Really? We're going to do this?"

I think you are, Marc, Steven snickers.

You 'innocently' bat your eyes at your love, "Doing what, hon? I'm just eating. Can't help it if I'm a bit clumsy."

"You're being a brat," he states.

You smirk at him, propping your arm on the table and resting your cheek against his hand, "What're you gonna do about it?"

If that's how you're gonna play, then two can play at that game. He smirks back and shrugs, "Nothin'." He goes to eat his sandwich and you pout a little, hoping to get a rise out of him.

Aw, she's so cute when she pouts!

Stop it, Steven. We're not falling for it! Marc mentally scolds his alter.

_______________

After brunch, you and Marc stepped onto the bus to take you further into the city where you two would walk around and maybe head into some shops.

The bus was surprisingly crowded for a weekday, so you and Marc were huddled into a corner. Marc's back to the wall of the bus, you standing in front of him. An idea popped into your head and you 'stumble' back against Marc. His hands go to your waist and he murmurs, "You okay?"

You smile over your shoulder, "Perfect." You don't step forward, rather you press yourself up more against Marc and start grinding on him a bit. You didn't want to make it obvious to the other passengers though.

Marc knew what you were doing. His nails digging into your waist and he leans forward, lips against your ear, "Princess, you better behave. I mean it, or you won't get anything at all today."

Maybe we can-

No, Steven.

You sigh in defeat and step forward to create some distance, but you're pulled back by Marc. He murmurs to you, "Oh no. You stay here, don't need everyone to see my hard on that you caused."

You giggle, but then gasp when Marc pinches your side.

_______________

Marc's arm is around your shoulders as you both walk down the streets of London. Tourists and locals alike pass you, minding their business or taking in the sights and sounds.

You then spot a boutique and you're pulling Marc inside before he can do anything.

"Wha-hm."

You smile at him, "I just want to look around," you say as you run your fingers along a scantily mannequin, red lace covering very little of it.

Marc clenches his jaw, "Sure you are."

He follows you around, not making any indication if he sees something he'd very much like to rip off you.

You rush over, picking up a black barely-there open cup crotchless teddy, "Do you think Steven would like this?"

Bloody hell. That's practically nothing. Steven says in Marc's head.

You grab another, a very strappy, open cup and crotchless teddy, "Can you see what he thinks of this one?"

Marc stares at you intently, eyes not blinking until suddenly he shakes his head and looks around, "Wha-oh."

You smile gleefully at Steven, "Hi, lovey." You place the sets onto a rack and wrap your arms around him, pressing your lips to his.

Steven pulls away and gives you a stern look, "Now, lovey, I know what you're doing."

"I'm not doing anything, Steven," you say nonchalantly, going back to the pieces you pulled, "I wasn't serious about this pieces, by the way. Maybe we can find something you do like."

Steven gulps and nods, "Y-Yeah, Sure, love."

He follows you around, either giving you a yes or a no on different items that catch your eye. You end up with a good amount, bringing them and Steven with you to the dressing room. He sits on the bench while you try each of them on.

You try on the most modest of the bunch, moving towards the more revealing ones. You did this on purpose, of course, hoping that, with each one, you'd rile Steven up more and more.

You knew you were successful too from the way that Steven's hands were covering his crotch. He was fidgeting in his seat.

"I think this one is it," you say, modeling the white floral teddy. It oozed a sense of innocence and sensuality.

"Bloody hell," Steven groans, wiping his now damp forehead.

You dressed back into your clothes, but before stepping out, you fall to your knees in front of Steven, hands running up his thighs, "Do you need help with that, Steven?" you nod to his crotch.

"We shouldn't, especially since Marc-"

"Marc's not in control right now. You are," your hands inch up towards the tent in Steven's pants, "So, I ask again, do you need help with that?"

Steven mindlessly nods and you immediately work on undoing his jeans, bringing him out of his boxers and pumping his length up and down.

"Fu-" you slap your hand over his mouth.

"Don't want to get caught, do we?" he shakes his head, "Good."

You continue to jerk him off and his chest heaves with every breath. You take off your own pants and underwear, straddling his lap. His eyes widen and you immediately say, "I think this will both help us, don't you think?"

You grind yourself down onto his length and Steven's head fall back, bumping against the wall of the fitting room. He immediately sits up and you bury your face in his neck, giggling, "Careful, lovey."

You move your hips, running your slit along Steven's length. Steven's biting his lip hard, keeping himself from moaning. He pulls you closer to him, mouth going to your shoulder so he can bite down.

You hiss at the pain, but you also find it pleasurable. You continue to move, teasing yourself and Steven as you start to have his cock nudge your entrance.

"Fuck me, Steven. Please? I need you so bad?" you whimper in his ear.

Steven looks to the mirror and see Marc shaking his head, disappointed in his alter's weak resolve.

Don't.

Steven immediately ignores Marc, taking himself in his hand and lowers you onto him.

You moan into his shirt, hoping the music playing within the store is loud enough to hide your sounds of pleasure.

You move slow against Steven, not wanting to make the room shake or creak to reveal what you two are doing.

"So beautiful, lovey. So sweet for thinking of me. Looked so gorgeous."

"Steven," you quietly whine his name.

"Marc's so upset with us," he says with a chuckle, "We're definitely in for it."

"Don't care. He was being mean," you say in pants, still riding Steven in a slow pace.

"If I recall, you were also being a cheeky thing, weren't you?"

You giggle, "Maybe."

"Shit, right there," Steven gasps, "Please tell me you're close?"

You nod, desperate for finally having some release since Marc had denied you earlier. You reach down, rubbing at your clit for more pleasure, "Fuck, yes. So close."

"That's it, lovey. Good girl. Give it to me," Steven begs, his hands gripping you like his life depended on it.

"Shit," you gasp, cumming as you continue to ride Steven.

"Right there, right there. Oh fuck, Y/N," Steven groans, cumming with you. You continue to move, helping you both through your orgasm.

Your movements still, leaving you and Steven breathing hard. You lean back to get a look at his face. It's damp and slightly red. Your chuckle and peck his lips.

You slowly climb off him, grabbing your pants and underwear, sliding them on.

You grab the last set you tried on and watch with a grin as Steven stands, tucking himself back in, and zipping up his pants.

He approaches you, hands grabbing your face and pressing a kiss to your lips with more love and less lust.

Against your lips, he murmurs, "Marc says you're in trouble."

You snicker, "Trouble is my middle name," you reply with a wink and step out of the fitting room to purchase your new set.

[cx-boxbox]

I was going to write a fic about Lando wanting to wear pretty clothes, but I gave up after a couple scenes. Anyway, here's the only part I kept:

Lando’s fingers twitch nervously as he collects his packages, fiddling with the corners and ducking under the tape sealing the flaps shut, but he’s careful not to accidentally open them where anyone can see. It was already embarrassing enough to ask the concierge for them, and he cringed at the heavily branded boxes. The lady probably now thinks he has a secret girlfriend or something.

It’s nice out in Melbourne, and Lando is more than happy to swap the polo and jeans he wore to the paddock for a new purple v-neck that’s so soft and light to the touch it might disintegrate between his fingers and shorts that are just a tad bit shorter than the ones he ran around the city in. He has already been photographed without his shirt within days of arriving, so if he does bump into someone, it shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise.

But it is really just Lando’s luck that he quite literally smacks into his teammate’s back as he rounds the corner.

Oscar straightens with his bucket of ice, blinks at him, and asks, “Where are you going in such a rush?”

Lando folds his arms over his chest.

“Dinner. Not a foreign concept to you, hopefully.”

“‘Course not.” What is a foreign concept is how Oscar’s gaze keeps drifting south, flickering between the plunging neckline of Lando’s shirt and his upper thighs.

Oh, how interesting, he thinks, amused. Out loud, he asks, “Wanna come with? I have no idea which places are trainer-approved.”

It takes a moment for Oscar to shrug and respond, “Sure, why not. Teammate bonding and such, right?”

Lando gasps and plucks the bucket from Oscar’s hands. He pokes Oscar’s shoulder for good measure. “We’re plenty bonded, mate!” Not as much as he’d like, but still. “Just admit that you’re simply leaping at the idea of spending time with me away from the paddock.”

“I’m going to bring you to a seafood restaurant.”

“Aah! No, no, don't do that. I dressed up so pretty, I even shaved, and you’re not ruining my hard work with, eugh, fish.”

Once again, Oscar’s gaze travels over Lando’s figure, and Lando is incredibly delighted to see red tinting his cheeks. He preens a little, which he cannot be blamed for.

It’s so flattering that it more than makes up for Oscar’s simple affirming, “Hm.”

God, Lando would be so over this whole flirting-not-quite-boyfriends thing if it wasn’t so entertaining. He just hopes that Oscar’s patience doesn’t run out before either one of them gives in and just confesses. He also hopes that he isn’t misreading anything either. That would be fucking humiliating.

The little smiles and full-body laughter Lando regularly receives from him keeps him hopeful at best and delusional at worst.

On the way to Oscar’s hotel room, Lando asks what he planned on doing with the ice, and he only receives a shrug and a mumbled, “You never know when you just need a bucket of ice.”

“That’s fair.”

“Speaking of ice, are you going to be cold in just that? It gets cooler in the evenings, and your circulation sucks.”

“A price I’m willing to pay. Have you considered that maybe your circulation is working overtime? That it might be doing too much?” Lando retorts in lieu of admitting that he didn’t actually think that far ahead in his nervous excitement. A green hoodie promptly hits him in the face.

It’s not McLaren merch. It’s OP81 merch, and it smells like Oscar. Lando resists the urge to ball it up and shove his face into it.

“Just hold onto it if you don’t wanna wear it now,” Oscar says before disappearing into the bathroom. He re-emerges in a long-sleeved shirt and trousers that don’t have drawstrings. Lando almost breathes a sigh of relief. Small mercies.

Oscar’s hoodie also ends up being one of those small mercies, and Lando burrows into it comfortably as they take a longer route back to the hotel because the city after dark is nice. Oscar raises an eyebrow at him in his subtly gloating fashion, which Lando ignores in favor of tucking his nose into the collar.

“You look prettier in my hoodie,” Oscar mumbles.

“Huh?”

“Never mind. We’re here anyway.”

[hussyknee]

Red, White & Royal Blue: Collector's Edition Henry PoV bonus chapter by Casey Mcquiston.

(transcribed from the page pictures posted)

This is the coda to the end of the book, so don't read it if you haven't read the book first. Sadly, the Collector's Edition doesn't seem to be available on Kindle so. Arrrr matey.

Download link for file at the end.

....

HENRY

“I am not asking you to believe in it, or even to like it,” Henry says stonily. It’s been a long morning already. He is beginning to perspire. “I am simply asking you to show a modicum of respect.”

“To–to your quiche?”

“Yes. To my quiche.”

Bea puts down her tape gun and wipes her eyes. “Pez!”

“Yes?”

“Henry says he’s going to make us a quiche!”

Pez’s squawk of a laugh bounces down the stairs. “Pull the other one!”

“I make them all the time for Alex,” Henry insists. “They are perfectly edible.”

“So, when you promised us breakfast if we got up early to help you.” Bea says, “you meant that you were going to make us breakfast?”

“Yes!” Henry says hotly. “Stop laughing!”

“I’m sorry!” Bea says. “It’s only that...well, Henry, the last time you cooked breakfast for me, you were twelve and you put a sausage in the microwave until it exploded.”

“That was your idea! And it’s been ages since then! I’ve studied, all right? I’m quite good now. Those pictures I send the group chat aren’t just for show.”

“Oh, aren’t they?” Bea says rudely, as if his incredibly generous offer to cook her a shallot-and-thyme quiche with mushrooms from the farmer’s market means nothing at all. As if he’s lived in this house for five entire years without learning to use its kitchen.

Perhaps if their lives weren’t so chaotic, if Henry weren’t flying out of New York every time Bea had a spare moment to fly in, he could have proven this to her earlier. But Pez, who lives mostly in the city now and visits so frequently he’s earned his own Secret Service code name (Cardinal, since Henry is Bishop), should know better.

“Percy Okonjo,” Henry says as Pez joins them, “you were here last weekend when I made mince pie. You loved it.”

“Did I?” Pez wonders aloud, with an annoyingly Bea-like lilt.

“Look at this apron!” Henry gestures to himself and the navy blue apron he’s wearing. Alex gave it to him for his birthday last year. “Would a man who can’t make a quiche have an apron like this? It’s monogrammed.”

“You’re royalty, babes,” Pez points out. “Everything you own is monogrammed.”

From the pocket of his serious-home-cook apron, his phone buzzes. Reinforcements. The FaceTime connects, and Alex says, “Good morning, love of my li–”

“Alex,” Henry interrupts, “tell them about my quiches.”

Alex pushes up his sunglasses and frowns into the camera. He looks so lovely with his faded T-shirt and jean jacket and shaggy hair. Pure American heartthrob, might as well have a cowboy hat on. Henry never does tire of it.

“Sorry?”

“Bea and Pez don’t believe I can make a quiche.”

“What? Have they seen your apron?”

“That’s what I said!”

“Henry’s quiches are great!” Alex says loudly, to the kitchen at large. “I almost never find shells in them!”

That sets Bea and Pez off again. On the screen, Alex’s face crinkles into laughter.

“Thank you very much, Alex, you’ve been a tremendous help,” Henry groans. “How are things? Florist this morning, wasn’t it?”

“Just finishing up.” Alex says with a grin. “Final approvals done. Everything looks great.”

With only one week until moving day and two until the wedding, it made sense to divide and conquer. Henry agreed to stay in New York and finish packing up the brownstone with help from Bea and Pez, while Alex, June, and Nora are ticking off the last of their checklists in Texas.

“Of all the surprises that wedding planning has brought us,” Henry says, “your ability to micromanage floral arrangements has certainly been...one of them.”

“You know I love to curate a vibe,” Alex says.

“That you do,” Henry agrees. “Where are the girls?”

“Getting donuts,” Pez answers before Alex can. He holds up his phone, open to a photo of June blowing a kiss while Nora fellates an éclair.

“Donuts!” Bea says. “Now there’s an idea!”

They spend the rest of the day drowning in cardboard boxes and bin liners, packing everything but the furniture and the downstairs television. Pez reminds him once an hour that they could pay someone to do this, but Bea is stubborn, and Henry is reluctant to let anyone else wade into all the intimate trappings of his and Alex’s life. It was bad enough explaining the contents of the trick drawer in their dresser to Pez, much less some mover he’s never met.

When it’s done, Bea puts A Knight’s Tale on in the living room and promptly falls asleep on Pez’s lap. Pez passes out too, but Henry stays awake, because Heath Ledger deserves an audience. And because he knows if he doesn't wake Bea and move her to the guest bedroom, he'll have to hear about her back spasms in the morning.

David hops up beside him on the loveseat, and Henry strokes the top of his snout until his little body relaxes into Henry's side.

"Nervous old boy," Henry hums. It still does seem like the ultimate irony that the dog he adopted for emotional support has anxiety. David has grown more and more worried all week, as more and more of his home disappeared into boxes. "We won't leave you, I promise."

The brownstone has been a good house for them. Sturdy brick walls, neighbors that actually let them be. Henry has loved it more than he ever loved Kensington, or at least as much as he loved Kensington when his parents both lived there too. Some mornings, when he comes downstairs to find Alex with the coffeepot and the kettle already on, he feels the way he did when his family all slept under one roof. This roof is quite a bit smaller than that one, but the feeling isn't.

So, perhaps David hasn't got entirely the wrong idea. It is hard to let the place go. For the past month, Alex has kept asking Henry why he's staring, and the truth is that he's been committing to memory exactly how Alex looks in every room. How the bannister fits in his hand, the place on the foyer wall where he always braces himself to pull on his shoes.

Everything that's happened in the past five years has happened, at least in part, inside this house.

…

It's seven months after Alex's mother's second inauguration, and Henry is wishing he had never even heard the word "credenza." Then he wouldn't have to decide where to put one. Alex is arriving in half an hour to help him move it, but Henry still doesn't know where. Across from the fireplace, perhaps? But what if he wants to put a sofa there? Does he want a regular sofa, or a sectional? Should it go upstairs, in his study? Or should he leave room for bookcases?

He longs to be back on a beach, sipping something from a pineapple.

It’s been a long, glorious summer since Alex packed up his White House bedroom, called Henry, and asked, "Do you want to get the fuck off the continent?" They did Dubai first, then Lagos. Rio, for old time's sake. Buenos Aires, paper lanterns in moonlight and Alex flirting with the bartender for free drinks. June through August became a lovely blur: Alex asleep against his shoulder on the plane, Alex throwing his Portuguese phrase book out the window of a speeding car, sand in unmentionable places, Alex Alex Alex. Endless runways and half-arsed disguises, swimsuits that got smaller and smaller until they simply didn't wear them anymore. Falling in love, the sequel, with fresh suntans and all the time in the world.

And now here they are in Park Slope, where Alex is renting the second floor of a brownstone two blocks from Henry's.

It's practical, they agreed, to live in the same neighborhood before they live at the same address. They've scarcely gotten a chance to date the normal way yet– if it can be called "normal" when their combined security teams are headquartered in an empty apartment down the street. Still, Henry wants this to last.

They've sprinted headlong into everything so far, but now he wants move slowly, in delicious increments. He wants to savor nights, minutes, firsts, to covet them and then let them dissolve on his tongue, like the sugar cubes he snuck off his gran's filigreed tea trays when he was small. He wants a life.

He wants someone to tell him where to put this damned credenza.

It's a vintage Broyhill Brasilia piece, walnut with clever brass drawer pulls. June helped him pick it out when she was in town with meeting her editor, but she never gave him any advice on where it should go. He hasn't ever been allowed to decide where furniture should go before.

So, it’s...there, in the center of the empty living room, the first piece in the entire house.

“Maybe you could start with a rug or two,” says Alex from the foyer.

Henry turns to find him with his keys in one hand and a paper bag in the other, smiling in a beam of mid-morning light, and, ah. Yes. There it is. That sweet, sharp gasp of nerves. The half second when he forgets how to use his mouth. If he knows nothing else, at least one certainty remains, which is that seeing Alex Claremont-Diaz in the flesh will always do this to him.

Alex in a photo is handsome, but Alex in life is a symphony. He’s refracted light with a cherry cola chaser. He’s got a Fibonacci jawline and a troublemaker smile and thick forearms built for posing in doorways with his sleeves rolled and thumbing corks out of champagne bottles. The first time Henry ever told Pez about him, he said, “God, but he’s lethal.” It’s only worse once you get to know him.

“Weird place for a credenza,” Alex comments. He kisses Henry’s cheek, then passes him a warm bundle wrapped in parchment paper. “Hope you like sausage-egg-and-cheese.”

“I don’t know where to put it.”

“Sandwich goes in your mouth, typically.”

“The credenza.”

“Ohhh, right,” Alex says, pretending to have just caught on. He winks. Henry sighs theatrically but accepts a second kiss, on the lips this time. “Why don’t you just put it right here?”

He points to his left, where a blank wall stretches from the front door to the foot of the stairs. It does, upon closer inspection, appear to be the exact right size.

“Oh,” Henry says.

This is where they overlap. Where he ends and Alex begins. Great gooey puddle of feelings, meet course of action; endless burning energy, meet point of focus. Agonies, meet your most obvious, most natural, most inevitable conclusions. It’s frightening sometimes for a person like Henry, who has spent his entire life pedaling his agonies about like baguettes in a posh little bicycle basket. What is he to do with them now?

Yes," Henry concedes, "I suppose I could," and Alex laughs.

...

It's the summer of 2022. Henry has opened his third shelter, and Alex has just finished bulldozing his first year at NYU Law.

A few boxes of books still wait at Alex's place, but otherwise, he lives in Henry's brownstone now. Their brownstone. A UT pennant beside a Chelsea scarf on the living room wall. A fridge full of Topo Chico and Bulmers. Two pairs of shoes by the front door, brown Barker derbies and Reebok trainers. Nobody could mistake it for anyone else's.

It's their first Chore Sunday (Alex's idea), and Henry has put the last of the laundry in the dryer. He's in the kitchen doorway, watching Alex unload the dishwasher.

Alex once told Henry the type of man he's typically attracted to: tall, broad-shouldered, pretty eyes, a little haunted. Bit of attitude and a smile that makes you curious. For Henry, it's never been so simple. He liked boys in his classes because they bothered with the assigned readings and fancied one of Philip's awful Eton friends because he could sail and smelled of cinnamon. The only thing all his Oxford boys had in common was that they didn't know how to speak to him. He's never had a type, and he's always been sure Alex was singular, anyway. Alex is unlike anyone he's ever met before or since.

But here, now, watching Alex bend to remove a salad bowl from the bottom rack, he is confronted with the hard truth. All those boys did, actually, share one trait.

"Are you gonna help me with this," Alex says without even an investigatory glance over his shoulder, "or are you just gonna keep staring at my ass?"

...

It’s Christmas 2022, their first since Alex officially moved in, and Henry is going to make a yule log if it kills him.

Perhaps he’s been too ambitious. He’s rather new to all. Growing up, he was rarely permitted in the kitchens, and he concentrated his uni diet on fast food and takeaway. He can make toast and boil an egg, and he’s got a deft hand with the coffee percolator and a gin swizzle from time to time. He knows about food– the finest foods, actually, he’s yet to meet an Englishman who can select a better brie– but he never learned to cook, until recently.

Recently, as in when Alex became too fanatically involved in his second-year coursework to remember to feed himself.

It began with force-feeding Alex a bacon butty twice a week. Henry’s arms suffered little constellations of grease burns, but bacon was easy. And those faded, so they didn’t deter him for long. Curiosity piqued, he taught himself the basics of pasta, how one can simmer almost anything with garlic and onion and butter and it will taste good over noodles. It bolstered his confidence enough to truly commit, and now, between hours at the shelters and video calls with his mum, he watches tutorial after tutorial on how to brown butter and roast chicken. Only half of what he makes turns out the color it’s meant to, but he loves it.

He loves walking to the market on the corner and hunting down specific ingredients from the family recipes June sends him. In fact, it’s become such a regular pastime that the paparazzi have cottoned on, which is why his mother finally forced his security team to hire an actual body double. Now some bloke named Angus with his height and build and nearly the same face goes on diversionary strolls while Henry peruses jarred chilies.

With all his independent studying, he was certain he could manage a dessert. He wanted to do something impressive, since they’ve convinced their families to let them host Christmas dinner. Only, his sponge has gone all wrong, and if he’s learned anything from Bake Off, he knows it’s not meant to have cracked in five places when he tried to roll it up. Paul Hollywood would have him pilloried.

“Think you might’ve left it in too long?” Oscar asks from across the kitchen island. He’s wearing his white elephant prize, a sweatshirt airbrushed with the slogan YOU CAN’T SPELL CONSTITUTION WITHOUT TITS. Inexplicably, Henry’s own mother brought that one. “Lookin’ kinda dry there.”

“I appreciate that you are trying to be helpful,” Henry enunciates, “but if you say one more word I may start crying, and then we’ll both lose some respect for me.”

Later, when Pez has persuaded him to “call it, mate, put it out of its misery,” he carries his disgraced platter of ganache and cake and marzipan out into the living room and lets everyone go at it with spoons. The house feels full to bursting, and not just because of the Christmas crackers. There are all three of Alex’s parents, Henry’s mum, June and Nora, Bea and Pez, Shaan and Zahra on speakerphone, occasionally an awkward Philip and Martha via FaceTime, and, because he had nowhere else to go for the holiday, Angus.

(“I don’t like him,” Alex muttered when Henry suggested inviting his own body double to Christmas dinner.

“Why not?”

“Because he looks exactly like you, but I find him deeply unattractive, and that freaks me out.”)

Ellen tells everyone the story of the year Alex got his first real bike for Christmas and knocked out his two front teeth by Boxing Day, which prompts Catherine to recite eight-year-old Henry’s letter to Father Christmas, in which he requested a leather-bound journal and a holiday to East Wittering so he could gaze at the sea. Bea pushes Henry behind the upright piano, and he takes requests for an hour. It only ends when Pez rewrites half the lyrics to “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” to be about his own lactose intolerance. No one wants to follow “tidings of Lactaid and soy.”

After the third round of mulled wine, when Alex’s parents have called their drivers and his mum has retired to the guest room, June and Nora find themselves under the mistletoe. Everyone whoops and whistles until Nora finally pulls June in by her Christmas-light necklace and kisses her to a round of applause. June's cheeks turn red, but she looks pleased as anything.

"I can't believe it took this long for y'all to finally kiss." Alex says, to which Pez bursts into laughter. "What?"

"Alex," he says fondly. He drains his glass and pecks Alex on the forehead. "You gorgeous, stupid little turnip."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Pez just shakes his head and strolls off to the kitchen.

"Wait," Alex says.

He frowns, like he does when he's trying to recall something incredibly minute and specific from his torts textbook. Then, suddenly, a light goes on, and his own mug is clunking on the lamp table, and he's running off after Pez.

"Pez, what's that supposed to mean?"

...

It's late morning the summer before Alex's last year of law school, 2023, and Alex is the first word out of Henry's mouth.

Truthfully, that's how he begins most mornings. On a Monday morning five time zones away, "Alex" pitched low to the screen of his phone. On a Friday when Alex's early lecture is cancelled, "Alex" in F major, muffled in the pillow as his body moves and the day stretches out before them. Half three the night before an exam, a hoarse "Alex," followed by, "turn the bloody light off and come to bed."

This morning, it's because David is barking at the door. A rainstorm is brewing, and if jet lag didn't have Henry dead under the bedclothes, the gray gloom would. Alex was the one who surfaced from sleep half an hour ago and blearily ordered three entire pancake breakfasts from some 24-hour diner a few neighborhoods over. He should have to get up and answer the door.

“Alex.” Henry mumbles, turning over.

Alex has got the quilt tugged up so high he’s only a shock of wild curls on white linens.

“Nnnghh,” Alex groans from the depths.

“Breakfast is here,” Henry says. The doorbell helpfully rings again. David howls.

Alex’s face appears, pouting. There’s a crease from the pillow down one of his cheekbones, a comet’s tail in a constellation of freckles. “Can you get it?”

Henry rolls his eyes but smiles. Inevitable.

He drags himself out of bed and pulls on the joggers and hoodie from last night’s flight. It’s not until he feels the breeze on his ankles as he descends the stairs that he realizes they’re Alex’s, not his.

On their doorstep, a pink-haired delivery girl is looking bored under her bicycle helmet.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Henry says. He fishes a crumpled bill out of Alex’s pocket. “For your trouble.”

The girl pulls a face.

“Got any real money?” she asks. Her accent reminds him a bit of Alex’s mum.

He blinks down at her hand, which is holding a twenty-pound note. “Ah. Sorry again. Er.” He snatches his wallet out of the bowl on the credenza and gives her all the American dollars he has.

“She’s gone, Davey,” Henry says afterward to David, who’s now fretfully circling the living room. “You’ve protected us from another fearsome home invader. Well done.”

He lets David out into the back garden to do his business, then carries the food upstairs. Shockingly, Alex is awake and propped up against the headboard.

“I’m getting too old for red-eye flights,” Alex says, rubbing his eyes.

“Love, you’re twenty-five,” Henry reminds him. He deposits the bag on the nightstand, and Alex wastes no time tearing through the plastic and tucking in to his breakfast. “And I’m older than you.”

“Yes, you are. But like... I get why we have to go to Philip’s kids’ christenings. The cousins, though?” He sets to work smothering his pancakes in syrup. “I mean, at least my cousins would stack their baptisms. One and done, baby.”

Henry opens his mouth, prepared to answer with one of a thousand things. That the tabloids will have even more of a field day than usual if he stops doing his chores, that there will always be a church dedication or a swan upping or an appointment for a top hat fitting, that he’ll always be obligated to have one foot in London and one day they’ll have to choose where to settle down. It’s far from the first time they’ve had this conversation.

But then Alex shovels a massive bite of pancakes into his mouth and says, “Anyway, I love you. Do you wanna have June and Nora over tomorrow? We can play Mario Party again. I wanna see them get in a fistfight. Oh, and my dad’s in town next week, and he said to tell you he’s bringing that book you asked about–”

And that’s when Henry knows: He doesn’t ever want to go back.

...

It’s the end of spring 2024, and Henry is not eavesdropping, per se. He excused himself to answer a call from Shaan, which really could not be avoided. Shaan has taken to his new life as a househusband with predictable aplomb, and most of his calls these days involve Henry getting to talk to a baby who is clearly destined to become prime minister. He simply can’t send that to voicemail.

It’s the first time they’ve had room in the schedule for his mother to visit since Alex accepted his law job, which Henry understands very little about but has been assured is the most strategic next step for Alex’s career long game. When Henry left the room, Alex was still trying to explain it to Catherine. It all sounds terribly prestigious.

He is just returning to the sitting room with a fresh pot of tea when he hears his name from around the corner.

“–and the next morning Henry and Arthur vanished,” his mother is saying, “and when Uncle Algie called, I told him that Henry couldn’t go on the annual pheasant hunt because he was violently ill, but actually Arthur had taken him to Rome for two weeks on the set of that go on ridiculous car heist film he was working on, the one with, oh, what’s his name–“

“Jason Statham,” Alex says promptly, through wheezing laughter.

“That’s the one!”

“Loved that movie,” Alex says. “I can’t believe Henry got to be on set.”

“It was all Arthur’s idea, but he was right to do it. Uncle Algie is a dreadful bore, and Henry despises his son. Guilford. Did you meet Guilford at the wedding?”

“Henry made sure I avoided it.”

“Yes, that’s for the best,” Catherine says daintily. “He has matured into an absolute dickhead.”

Henry wishes he was in the room to see the way Alex sputters out, “Oh my God.” Alex always forgets that Catherine went to uni and married a commoner from Sheffield.

And then Alex sighs and says, “When Henry and I get married–”

Henry manages to recover the teapot before he drops it.

It’s not a surprise to hear Alex mention marriage. They’ve been sorting it out for years: political logistics and Alex’s child-of-divorce anxiety and a thousand questions about a royal wedding neither of them actually wants to have. He’s already bought an engagement ring, even, and judging by how tetchy Alex gets whenever Henry tries to put his underwear away for him, he’s not the only one.

But it is the first time he’s heard Alex mention it to his mother. He dropped it so casually, so matter-of-factly, as if he’s been talking to her about marrying Henry for years. Henry supposes it’s possible he has been. Is this why Alex had tea with her in London last month and told Henry he wasn’t invited? Have they been conspiring?

They’re discussing hypothetical guest lists now, which cousins secretly hate one another and who wore an inappropriately large fascinator to whose birthday tea, but Henry isn’t listening anymore. He’s thinking of a cafe table in Rome, his dad waving over a second round of gelato.

In his memory, he’s nine years old, and his father is saying, Whoever you marry, Henry, make sure they think your mum is a laugh, because she is. She really is.

He clears his throat and finally rounds the corner. “Tea, anyone?”

...

It’s 2024, and nobody knows they’re engaged.

Granted, they’ve only been engaged for about three hours, but Henry is curious to see how long they can go. It feels nice to keep a secret that doesn’t have to be a secret. It’s more that they’re keeping it like a pet, or something especially beautiful from the garden that they’ve coaxed into a jar.

A record is spinning on the turntable, one of Alex’s, maybe the Joni Mitchell he borrowed from Bea. They’ve shoved their phones under the couch cushions and ordered a pizza the size of the moon, and now they’re sitting in the center of the living room floor, demolishing it. They kiss, then eat more pizza, then get distracted kissing again. Henry licks a streak of pepperoni grease from Alex’s forearm, which is a fantasy he didn’t know he had until he’s living it. They tangle up on the rug, and Henry decides he’ll take Alex sailing next weekend, or even out to the edge of the river, just to see him against a horizon.

Four-nearly-five years in, the main thing he’s learned is that Alex is a world without end. All Henry wants is to go on with him forever. To keep finding new favorite parts, to keep turning things over and studying their soft bellies and finding the best bits.

So, he will.

...

It snows on New Year’s Eve 2024. Alex looks out the window and shrugs off his coat.

The Young America Gala may be no longer, but Nora, June, and Pez aren’t to be stopped from throwing a New Year’s party, especially now that Pez has gotten his own part-time flat in the city. They’re the three fates of New York City’s holiday social circuit: birth (June, managing invitations), life (Pez, topless), and death (Nora, also topless).

“What if,” Alex says, turning to Henry on the foot of the stairs, “we don’t go to the party?”

“Nora will murder me,” Henry says. “She told me she’s not afraid to do that now that I’ve given up my title.”

“Murder is still a crime even if you’re not officially a prince.”

“Yes, but she said, quote,” he puts on his best American accent, “They can’t put me in the Tower anymore. Who’s gonna arrest me now? Mr. Bean?”

“Why don’t we just send Angus? It’s dark. Maybe she won’t notice.”

“Where’s your double, then?”

“We live in New York, I’m sure I can find a male model somewhere.”

“As always, sounding the very bass string of humility.”

“Is that fucking Shakespeare?”

“Henry IV.”

“I’m gonna give you a wedgie, you fucking nerd.”

In the end, it doesn’t take much to convince Henry to stay in. Lately, it never does. Alex texts June a flimsy excuse, and they toe off their shoes and relax out of their button-downs.

Henry does have to admit he’s exhausted, in the way that one only can be on the last day of the year, when every other day of the year piles way up behind it. It’s been a big one: Alex’s first law job, the endless press about Henry’s decision to surrender his title, the engagement, Bea’s wedding, the incident with the croquet mallets and the Dutch ambassador at Bea's wedding.

Sometimes Alex jokes that they squeezed it all into one calendar year because no headline can stick if there's another next week, but it's only half a joke. They've been bone-tired for months.

"I'm surprised you're the one who wants to stay home," Henry says. "I remember a young lothario who lived to ruin people's lives on New Year's Eve."

"Ruin?" Alex says. "That's not how I remember it."

"It certainly felt that way at the time."

They drift to the kitchen, past all the traces of the year. The dried flowers, the new scuffs on the floorboards. The box of bound manuscripts of Henry's first finished poetry-ish short-fiction-ish essay-ish collection. The holiday cards from senators and diplomats and old Texas friends, topped off with Alex's favorite of Rafael Luna and his astonishingly fit partner in matching Christmas jumpers. Henry would think Raf had been forced into it if it hadn't come with a case of beer and a note of thanks for letting him stay over the last time he visited Alex and had one too many tequila shots at drag bingo.

Alex withdraws a bottle of Clicquot from the refrigerator and says, "We're not washed, are we?"

“We're aging," Henry points out.

"That's right," Alex says, eyes immediately sparking at the opportunity. Henry preemptively sighs. "You're almost thirty."

"Almost twenty-eight is not almost thirty."

"It basically is. You're old. You'll be thirty a whole year before me. You'll be popping antacids and I'll be in the club, popping my p-"

"You're not even in the club now."

"I could be, I'm just choosing not to, because I don't want to deal with the snow. That's not aging, it's growth."

He slides Henry a glass of champagne and adds, "It's probably time for us to start talking about what's on your Do Before Thirty list, huh?"

Henry takes the glass and chooses going with Alex's bit over pointing out that he's entering his late twenties, not dying.

“I’ve done quite well on that front so far, actually,” he says. “Wrote a book. Started a nonprofit. Engaged to the love of my life.”

“Involved in an international sex scandal.”

“Shook the hands of all five Spice Girls.”

“Best dressed at the Met Gala.”

“Cried in the Water Lilies room at the MOMA.”

“Grew your hair out, then cut it all off.“

“Taught myself to make beef Wellington.”

“That one’s, uh, still in progress,” Alex hedges. Henry gives him an affronted look. “But, yeah! Definitely. And you got really good at scones.”

“That I did.”

“Right,” Alex agrees. “So what’s left? Streaking? Dropping acid? Having sex on our kitchen island?”

Henry takes a moment with that one.

“Having sex on our kitchen island?”

When the clock strikes the new year, the house is quiet. The timer on the light over the front stoop clicks off. The champagne bottle rests between two glasses on the edge of the sink, spent and sticky around the rim, a single soggy strawberry at the bottom of each flute. Miles out from their apartment, fireworks fight the snow over the East River, but in their kitchen in Park Slope, the only sounds are the two of them.

Henry, almost twenty-eight, presses his warm body to the cool marble and gets his midnight kiss.

...

“Do you know what today is?” Alex asks on a lukewarm September.

It’s 2025. He’s in the doorway of Henry’s study, where Henry has been all evening, answering emails.

“Hm? No.”

When Alex doesn’t immediately fill the silence, Henry looks up from his laptop screen.

“What is it?”

“Five years since the story broke,” Alex says.

It takes a moment for him to realize what story Alex means; there have been so many of them. But of course, he means that gigantic, terrible one. The one that changed their lives forever.

“Oh,” Henry says. He closes his laptop, leaning back in his chair and away from it. “Well. Hated that.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees. “Zero out of ten. Would not do again.”

His tone is light and casual, but when he folds his arms across his chest, Henry can see his glasses in the front pocket of his flannel. It’s been months and months since the last time Alex didn’t feel confident enough to wear them.

For his part, Henry can remember much of that day, but not all of it. He remembers stirring sugar into his morning tea when Shaan walked in wearing an expression Henry had never seen before. He remembers Pez arriving like the cavalry in Gucci slippers, hustling Henry away from his handlers with the same graceful disdain he used to direct at Eton classmates who stared at them too much. He remembers Bea finding them in the music parlor and refusing to hear Henry’s apology, and he remembers Alex’s call and Alex’s arrival.

The funny part, though, is he can’t remember anything between Bea and Alex. He knows that Philip was involved, and there were stories on every news channel, and he spoke to his mother at some point. But the space in his memory where those hours belong is simply blank. His psychiatrist says it’s post-traumatic stress disorder, and Henry is inclined to agree, considering the two of them spent the entire following year recalibrating Henry’s anxiety and depression medication around the event.

Those hours will always be gone. There are things he will never get back.

Most of the time, though, when he thinks of that day, the second worst thing that's ever happened to him, he thinks of Alex's hand in his under a Buckingham Palace table. He remembers, clear as a bell, Alex's voice telling him they would survive it together. It happened to Alex too. It wasn't what they would have chosen, but it was what they received, and they've done their absolute bloody best with it.

He rises from his desk, crosses to the doorway, and gathers Alex up against his chest. Their size difference isn't that pronounced—Henry is taller but lean, Alex shorter but sturdy—but in moments like this, he's thankful for the way Alex's cheek perfectly aligns with the crook of his neck. He's grateful for how effortless it is to slip a kiss to Alex's temple.

Neither of them says anything else. It's all been said a thousand times, in speeches and through official statements and in the dark when it's only the two of them. It's enough to stand here in the center of the house, in the quiet, and let it hold their weight.

...

At the end of 2025, Henry has a bad day.

There's nothing specific that causes it. The days just happen like this sometimes, even with all the therapy and medication and supportive partnership and fulfilling creative projects in the world. There are other people, he supposes, who don't spend their lives waiting for the next bad day. He's had every bloody luxury but that one.

Alex comes home from work to find him curled up on the armchair in the study, staring out the window at the light-polluted night sky over the row of brownstones across the street.

“What are you doing?" Alex asks him.

"Looking for Orion," Henry deadpans.

Alex kneels on the rug in his tailored suit pants and rolled-up sleeves and rests his cheek on Henry's knee, the way he often does when Henry's in a mood. Henry's fingers slide into his curls. They've grown a bit longer in the past few months. Lately. Alex looks quite like he did when they met, except for the glasses and the stubble dusting his jaw.

“I’m tired of big law, “ Alex confesses. It would appear he’s in a mood too. “I know it’s only been a year and a half, but...I kind of hate it.”

Henry contemplates that, along with the dark circles around Alex’s eyes.

“You don’t have to do it, you know.” Henry tells him.

Alex looks at him like he did in that hotel room in Paris the first time they woke up together, like the only thing he knows for sure about what he’s being offered is that he wants it completely. It’s an intimidating look to receive, but it’s only ever improved Henry’s life in the end.

He kisses Henry’s knuckle, just below his ring.

“I have some ideas.”

...

In February 2026, a flu sweeps through Park Slope. Neither Alex nor Henry can agree on who gave it to whom first– Henry knows it was Alex, since he’s been up late consulting with his mum about a voting rights bill in Texas, and his immune system always suffers when he gets upset about Texas—but regardless, they’re trapped in the brownstone together for a week. At least Alex doesn’t have to work through his illness the way he usually does, since he resigned from his job last month.

Somewhere around day five, Henry realizes it’s the longest consecutive amount of time they’ve both been home in years. They always seem to be leaving or returning: rushing off to appearances, climbing out of security caravans in half-undone suits, meeting Cash at the curb at three in the morning with bags over their shoulders. It’s nice, in a way, to get reacquainted with this home they’ve built together.

While Alex naps, Henry paces the entire floorplan.

The first floor, with its long living room and the original beams and mantelpiece, which Henry had restored before he moved in, because he always has been precious about the history of things. Then the kitchen and the deep blue cabinets and the wide back window over the knotty pine dining table handed down from Alex's dad. Upstairs, on the second floor, the guest bedroom with all of his mum's preferred hand creams in the attached washroom and the sitting room with the shelf of swan figurines Pez started collecting years ago in a dramatic fit of June-related yearning. One more flight up to the top floor, with his study and Alex's office and the hall with their photo from Shaan and Zahra's wedding and, at the far end, their bedroom.

The bedroom is his favorite part of the house, and not only for the obvious reasons, no matter how much Alex tries to imply otherwise with suggestive eyebrows. He loves the high ceiling and the chipped plaster medallion of roses at the center. They picked out the bed together, and every morning that he wakes up in it, he gets to turn over and see Alex's loose pens and glasses wipes scattered atop the dresser and know that this, his life, is still real. Perhaps he likes the room best because it feels separated from every other part of the house, lifted up and bundled in, which is the first time he's ever been safe in a tower.

Most importantly, of all three levels of bay windows jutting from the redbrick front of the brownstone, only the one in the bedroom has a seat. They've filled it with velvet pillows and mossy green cushions, and once or twice a year, on one of their vanishingly rare slow days, Alex will climb in and fall asleep.

That's where he finds Alex when he eases into the room with a mug of soup in each hand. He recognizes the quilt wrapped around him: they slept under it in Alex's childhood twin bed the night Ellen won her second term, and then Alex crammed it into his suitcase and brought it back to Washington.

He stirs as Henry sets the mugs down on the dresser.

“Thanks,” he says in a hoarse voice.

Henry nudges in beside him, gingerly removing Alex's glasses from beneath his elbow before they get crushed.

"You know," Henry says, "I chose this house for the bay windows."

Alex blinks at him, fully awake now. "Really?"

"I thought you might like them. You always talked about the one you grew up with. Hoped they might make the place feel like home."

Alex smiles. "They do."

Henry looks at him in his quilt, sleep-mussed and flushed from fever and overdue for a shave, and he remembers that night in the yellow house in Austin. Before Alex led them back to his old bedroom, he peeled up the cushion in the living room window seat and showed Henry pages of elementary school scribbles still hidden there. And he told Henry that he thought once of hiding a picture there too, if only he'd had the nerve to tear it out of his sister's magazine.

Love, Henry has found, has a way of growing backward. You fall in love with a person in the present, and then every person you've ever been gets to fall in love with every past version of them. A sleep-deprived Georgetown freshman falls in love with an Oxford sophomore who's testing out undoing the top button of his shirts sometimes. A ruddy-cheeked teenager with his nose in a book loves a backtalking lacrosse captain. A boy comes home from school with perfect marks and sees a picture in a magazine, and the boy from the picture pauses on a palace staircase.

The crux of it is, he loves every version of Alex to ever sleep under that quilt. Everything else is mostly set dressing

"I'm having a thought," Henry says.

"Congratulations," Alex deadpans automatically. Then, "Tell me."

"This life we have here," Henry says. "This house. It's good, yeah?"

"Yeah, of course it is."

"But we could have a good life somewhere else too."

Alex frowns. "Like where?"

"Somewhere... farther from everything, maybe? Somewhere we could slow down, and things could be quieter, and you could do the work you want to do. I think I could use some time away from it all, honestly. Maybe I wouldn't even have to have a body double anymore."

Alex considers that for a long moment. They both know where Henry means, even if he doesn't say it. Besides New York and DC, and London on its best days, there's really only one place Alex would seriously consider living. They've joked about it before, but Henry's always thought it might be nice to spend a few years somewhere completely different than he's used to. A place where he could see the stars.

At long last, Alex sniffs and says, "You're gonna fire Angus? He was just starting to grow on me.”

...

“If you don't wake Bea up, you're gonna have to hear about her back spasms in the morning,” says a voice that is most certainly not Heath Ledger's.

Henry startles awake to find Alex leaning over his shoulder from behind the loveseat, curls everywhere. The room is dark, and the end credits are rolling.

"You're not home until tomorrow," Henry mumbles.

"Moved up my flight," Alex says. He's so close to Henry's face, he's gone a bit cross-eyed. His lips bounce off the tip of Henry's nose. "I missed you."

It's only been a few days, but the truth is Henry missed him too. He supposes he should be used to empty beds and time differences by now, especially when they began that way, but he suspects he'll never stop waiting at the door. You know what will be the best part of getting married?" Henry asks Alex.

"The line dancing."

"The way I won't have to miss you nearly as often."

Alex softens, then maneuvers himself over the armrest until he's draped across Henry's lap. David climbs on top of him and curls up on Alex's left buttock.

Letting go of the house has been hard, but this particular decision was easy, once they finally said it out loud. A gradual, careful withdrawal from public life, at least for a few years. They’ve given so much of themselves to the world and had the privilege of feeling a legacy take shape beneath them, but they need rest too.

It was June who convinced them, actually. Even now, there are certain things only June can say to Alex. Early in the spring, when she was finally transitioning out of her speechwriting job for Raf, she called Alex from Colorado and told him she was moving to New York to be closer to Nora and Pez, and she wanted to sublet the brownstone. When Alex pointed out that he was still living in it, she said, "We both know you've been looking at farmhouses in Austin for six months, it's time to shit or get off the pot."

(Henry loves his particular collection of Americans. They truly do say what's on their minds.)

The new house is beautiful. Henry's only seen it in person once, but the previous owner was a reclusive tech executive with shockingly good taste, so Architectural Digest featured it last year. He's had the article open in a tab on his phone for two months, and he scrolls through all those perfectly lit photos twice a day, getting high on possibilities. Lazy mornings in the wide sunroom, midnight dives in the lake. It's easy to imagine Alex mellowing into a brisket-smoking, tamale-rolling Texas dad out there, and it's just as easy to imagine them basking under cedar trees until their mid-thirties and then deciding they're ready for another round. The wonderful thing is, they can take their time either way.

It isn't a full release from their obligations, but it is the next step after formally relinquishing his title. More boundaries, more of their own rules about what they will and won't do. No royal wedding, but a private ceremony at the lake house and a honeymoon unpacking boxes. A job for Alex at a smaller firm where he can finally get his hands in the earth. A quieter life.

"You're right," Alex says. "You know what else is gonna be awesome about married-people life? We can have actual, real-life date nights. Just imagine it: free refills and bottomless chips and salsa."

"Oh, I've got another one," Henry says. “You can finally show me how to navigate an H-E-B."

“Baby, don’t talk dirty to me in front of company.”

“Please,” says a groggy voice from the couch.

“Hi, Bea.”

“Time’s it?”

“One in the morning.”

“Ugh.”

Grumbling and tugging a blanket around herself, Bea wakes Pez and the two of them head off to wash up before bed. The odds of Pez returning to the couch for the night or availing himself of their bed so that Alex has to sleep on the couch are just about even, based on six years of Pez falling asleep at their house. It’s a comfort to know that when they leave the brownstone and June moves in, Pez will still be making himself at home in it.

Downstairs, surrounded by boxes, Alex crawls out of Henry’s lap and slides a large shopping bag out from behind the loveseat. “I brought you something.” Alex says.

Inside the bag is a box made of the sort of heavy cardboard that augurs something expensive. He imagines Alex hurling his patched-up rough-ridden leather duffle into the overhead compartment of the airplane and then sliding this bag under the seat so carefully that there’s not even a crease in the paper.

He takes the lid off the box and unwraps layers of tissue paper to reveal a hat. A cowboy hat. It’s made of gorgeous, thick felt, with a cattleman crown and a satin lining. A nearly identical one has hung in Alex’s office since he moved in, though Alex’s is midnight black and this one is a warm, pale sand. Where Alex’s hatband has a small gold buckle, this one has a silver pin in the shape of an English rose.

“It’s a Stetson,” Alex says. When Henry looks up at him, his cheeks have darkened faintly. “I know it’s not really your thing, but you ride horses, and it’s kind of a big deal where I’m from to get your first Stetson, so I wanted to be the one to give it to you since you’re about to be an honorary Texan. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want–“

“I love it,” Henry interrupts.

Alex pauses, then breaks out in a grin. “You do? I was afraid you’d think it was a joke.”

“It’s the least ridiculous hat I’ve ever been given,” Henry tells him. “It didn’t even come with a matching tailcoat.”

“Nah, but maybe we can get you some Wranglers,” Alex says.

“Some chaps, perhaps.”

“I just told you not to talk dirty to me.”

Henry laughs and kisses him over the open box, thinking of the next year of their lives. Sunday morning fry-ups, swimming holes, a wedding cake that doesn’t wind up on the floor. Tomorrow he needs to ask if Alex checked on the bakery while he was in Austin, and if they have any more packing tape, and whether Amy’s daughter has gotten her flower girl dress yet.

Tonight, though, Alex is home a day early, and the house is making all its soft, familiar night-time sounds around them. No one sees in through the windows. No one comes in through the gate.

“Henry,” says Alex.

“Alex,” says Henry.

“You and me,” Alex says.

“You and me,” Henry agrees.

End.

Download as EPUB

Download as PDF

(Let me know if you have any problems with the links or files.)

[fictionalmenmakemecry]

Fuckin' with the Ecosystem- Chapter 4

Character: Carmy Berzatto x Reader

Summary: You decide it was time for a new chapter. You pack up everything in New York and drive back to Chicago with Carmy by your side. Due to the stress you both feel from the move, you're both on edge which leads to a mess you have to deal with.

Warnings: Angst, cursing, fluff

A/n: Chapter 4 is here! The further this goes the more twisty it's gonna get! I'm only getting started. Poor Carmy always has the best of intentions but seems to get caught on the delivery. Thank you for all of the support guys. I really appreciate it. I have a taglist going, let me know if you want to get added!

If you haven't read, here's: Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 and Chapter 3

Enjoy!

As you put the key in your door and walk into your apartment, it hits you that you're starting a new chapter. Once you made the decision to move to Chicago, you rang your landlord, letting him know that you were moving out. He wasn't too pleased to hear about it. You told him that you'd find someone to sublet it for the remaining 3 months you had left on your lease. You knew it wasn't going to be a challenge as New York was continuously dealing with a renting shortage.

The two weeks flew by. You felt like you were always catching up on what needed to get done. But never being able to finish a task completely. You put an ad out for your sublet, and to say people were desperate was an understatement. You had several responses in minutes and multiple viewings arranged. Once you picked the few people who were good to sublet, you handed it over to your landlord, as he had the final approval. Within a day of that, you had an official date to move out, and suddenly, everything felt real. Before this, in your mind, you felt like you could change your decision, and it would have been okay. But now, you don't have an apartment next week, so now you had to move, whether you had wanted to or not.

"Getting cold feet?" Carmy voice spoke out of your phone.

"No, no.. just seeing my things in boxes is... making it real" you looked around seeing your frames leaning against the wall and your possessions all over the place disorganized.

"Your flight is good?" You asked, bring your focus back on the task on hand.

There was a moment of silence.

"Yea, think so. Here, let me send you the link to my flights" Carmy muttered

Your phone vibrated with an email notification labeled as "NY flight".

"Okay... well... I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?" You asked, feeling your stomach flip realizing you'll be seeing him.

Since you've been so busy organizing everything, you forgot the whole point of the actual move. To start a new job in a new city, with great people and a close old friend. The stress was nearly over when it came to closing the chapter in New York, and was replaced that was excitement for Chicago.

"Sure will, don't stand me up." You sensed a smile off of him

You waited at the arrival gate, scanning the bundles of people coming out. Your eyes hopped face to face, until you finally recognized one. He walked up to you with open arms carrying his backpack on one shoulder. He was wearing his wool coat and white shirt combo. Always a classic for him. You gave a quick hug, breathing in his usual smell which was a mixture of cigarettes, deodorant and gum.

Carmy was relieved to see you waiting there. He noticed you before you noticed him. A warm sensation spread across his chest when your eyes landed on him and a smile broke out on your face immediately.

You both hopped on the subway, Carmy telling you everything that happened since you've been gone. He explained how Richie, Fak and Marcus has been busy breaking down the place. While Tina and Ebra have enrolled into a short eight week course in culinary school. Syd has been busy researching new flavors and themes for the restaurant.

"Suga' has been dealin-"

"IRS are being a pain in the ass" You cut him off walking down the street getting closer to your apartment.

"Yeah.. how did you know?" Carmy looked over surprised.

"We've been chatting on the daily. She keeps me in the loop. She's also been helping me find a place in Chicago." You grinned at him pulling out your keys as you came up to building.

"Oh.." He hummed and looked down.

"So, you know everything already. Why didn't you stop me?" He asked, him now feeling out of the loop.

"I like the sound of your voice babes" You mocked, opening the door.

You looked back at Carmy, who followed you into the lobby, giving you a smirk.

You both arrived at your apartment and swung the door open. He followed you in, dropping off his bag at the door.

"I have most of the small things packed away. It's alotta awkward big stuff I'm gonna need help with." You turned around to see Carmy looking around while walking further into your living room.

You felt vulnerable now that he was standing in your safe place. The place you called home for 4 years.

"I know- its not much bu-"

"It's.. its nice. Cosy," he landed his eyes back you, giving a gentle smile.

Your apartment was small and not the most modern. But over the years, you tried your best to make it yours. Your kitchen was a joke. You barely could swing a cat in it. But lucky for you, you worked in a restaurant which mostly kept you fed and you never really cooked anyway.

"That kitchen is an abomination," He stated, pointing at it in shock.

You chuckled knowing he was going to judge your kitchen.

"You wanna know the worst part?" You walked over and grinned.

You leaned over to the stove which was crammed in the corner of the kitchen. You opened the door of the oven. The door stopped 3/4 of the way before hitting the wall in front of it. You glanced over to Carmy who's jaw was open. He raised his arms to his head in dismay.

"What the actual fuck" He uttered, walking away with his head shaking.

With a busy couple of days ahead of you, you started getting errands done. Tomorrow was the final day, and there was still a lot of shit that needed to get sorted. He started breaking down your your bed frame and tables you had.

"Ikea piece of shit" He muttered to himself as he struggled with taking out a screw that was stripped.

"Who the fuck made this bed?" He yelled out to you from the bedroom.

You smiled to yourself, knowing he was going to love the answer.

"Take a guess" you yelled back.

"Dickhead Nick" He spat finally getting the screw loose.

You giggled to yourself hearing the string of curse words Carmy was uttering.

"Finally" He huffed, after half an hour of struggle.

You popped your head around the corner and watched Carmy gather the parts of the frame and put them all together in the corner of the room. The frame was heavy, but Carmy lifted it like it was nothing. You couldn't resist looking at his arms flexed with the movement of each piece. His arms against the tight sleeves of his shirt.

"You okay?" You snapped back to notice Carmy looking over at you, dusting his hands off.

"Yeah- yeah, sorry. I'm just tired," You walked away, feeling yourself blush from the thought of getting caught admiring him.

Carmy went to collect the rental truck as you finished off putting the last few things in boxes. That night, you both slept on the floor with a blanket and pillow. It didn't matter how uncomfortable it was. You were exhausted to the point of passing out.

You woke up with the sounds of your alarm. You picked up your phone to see 5:00 am. You looked over to the sight of Carmy laying on his stomach, his face smooshed into the pillow with his mouth half open. As you sat up, the floor boards creaked, making him stir. He stretched out his arms, yawning. His white shirt tossed beside him.

"Warm?" You rubbed your eyes.

He looked at you with his eyes half open. You flicked your eyes to the white bundle beside him. His eyes followed, and realized what you were talking about.

"Um- yeah. This place is fuckin' boilin' at night," he muttered sleepily, sitting up.

"Yeah, that's the one thing I don't like about this place." Your eyes traveled down to his bare chest. His gold chain resting against his skin. Your dragged your eyes away before he noticed.

You thought back to years ago when he was way more scrawny. He really had grown into his... physique. His shoulders were a lot more toned and built than you remember.

Hold up, you caught yourself. You stopped yourself going down that rabbit hole. It's been awhile since you've gotten any but you and Carmy have never been like that.

He leaned over and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing his hair all over, pushing his arms through.

"So... let's get ready, and pack the final things in the truck, sweep the place, and we should be good to go before traffic gets bad," you commented getting onto your feet and made your way to the bathroom.

"Heard" He mumbled rubbing his eyes.

You both worked your way through the apartment and played Tetris a little with trying to cram as much as possible in the truck.

"I'm tellin' you, if you take that out, you're just going to undo all the work we did last night." You grunted, getting annoyed with the constant struggle of your belongings.

"Lemme try." Carmy snapped back, glaring at you.

He handed you the box that you were both struggling to fit. You were beyond exhausted, and the thought of driving 12 hours put you in a further bad mood.

You watched, annoyed, as Carmy readjusted the lamp that was taking up too much space.

"I know you don't wanna have this in front with us, but you goin' hafta." He took out the tall lamp awkwardly, losing his patience with it. He wiggled it and angled it out. Then, he took the box off of you. He slotted it into the gap that was left behind by the lamp. He slammed the doors and turned to you, a small smile appearing on his face.

"What?" You barked, frowning back at him.

He stared at you for a moment.

"Nothin," he shook his head, the smile still on his face.

If he was honest, he couldn't stay annoyed at you when he looked over and saw how pissed you were, holding your lamp. He thought about how rough you both were . Your hair tied away from your face, and his just a bush on his head. Both sporting bags under your eyes. You standing there holding a lamp angerly, just shifted something inside him. To him, you looked ... cute? He couldn't place the words. He dismissed the thought quickly but with the remnants of the smile left behind. You both had a lot of shit to get through today, and he's thoughts weren't on top of the list.

You entered your old apartment for the last time. Completely empty. The walls looked bare after so long filled with your favorite pictures and posters. You walked through all the rooms and checked the closets to make sure nothing was left behind.

You glanced down the hallway to see Carmy leaning against the wall, playing with the truck keys absent-mindedly. Two months ago, you were minding your business, figuring out your next job in New York. With one phone call, now you're moving to Chicago to work in a non-existent restaurant.

You made your way back to him, and you took one more look before closing the door.

"Ready?" He asked, looking back at you.

You nodded, smiling back at him.

With a long road ahead of you, you decided to take turns driving the truck. Carmy offered first. You didn't know if because he saw how tired you were, or he was just being kind. Twenty minutes into the journey, you were conked out.

One arm on the steering wheel, the other resting on the door, he would glance from time to time over to you. You leaned up against the other side of the truck with your head against the window using your hoodie as a make-shift pillow.

Carmy had a constant knot in his stomach the last week. He felt excited to see the plan that you made actually happen. It really did feel like a new beginning had started. The restaurant being remodeled and you moving to Chicago, it felt real. For once, he was actually feeling hopeful about the future.

Along the journey, you made a few pitstops for bathroom breaks and snacks.

"Where... ar wehh?" Carmy lifted his head feeling the truck coming to a stop outside a gas station.

" I dunno, fuck middle nowhere Pennsylvania," you said before getting out of the car.

"Still? Fuckin' hell. How big is this state?" He groaned, readjusting his head.

You came back with two energy drinks, and you threw him a bag of chips.

"Thanks," he mumbled

"It's the only payment you're getting for helping me move." You smirked, cracking open a can.

You heard him give a light chuckle before putting his head down again.

Once the sun came up, you both felt more awake. It a crisp winter morning. Cold, fresh, but the sun was shining with a clear sky.

You pulled over for another pit stop.

"Huhh" Carmy readjusted in his seat, completely disorientated from his power nap.

"Needa pee" you said restlessly.

"Again?" Carmy complained

"Energy drinks run through me"

The truck came to a halt. You jumped out and raced inside, barely waiting for the automatic doors to open fully before going in.

Carmy sat up in his seat and decided it was his turn to drive. He made his way to the driver side. He thought to himself for a moment before turning on the truck, putting it into drive, and pulled away.

He had no idea what got into him, but he wanted to fuck with you.

He had moved the truck to the other opposite side of the gas station, to the point where you would have to turn around to see it as you walked back to the old parking spot.

He watched the door waiting for you to come out. His hand resting against his mouth, tapping his finger on the steering wheel.

You walked out in the direction where the truck was parked, to see it not there anymore. You swore you parked it right there, took glance around to your left and right.

Were you losing mind?

Did Carmy take off?

Doubtful but it did pop into your mind.

Carmy continued to watch from the driver seat. A sneaky smile emerging on his face, he watches you look around. He could tell you thought you were losing your mind.

He gave the steering wheel a light push, and a short horn blared out of the truck. He saw you whip around from the sound, and a smile popped up on your face.

You went to the truck and got in the passenger side.

"You fucker" you giggled punching him lightly in the arm.

"Gotta keep you on your toes." He chuckled, rubbing this arm where you hit.

"I thought you dipped." You said securing your seat belt.

"Na, I'm not that bad," Carmy pulled out of the gas station.

For the next couple of hours, you chatted about random things, trying to keep you both dying from boredom. The conversation would get interrupted with Carmy's road rage of people cutting him off and traffic building up as you got closer to the cities.

"Why the fuck would Google Maps bring us on this route, it's slammed" He glanced at his phone

"Cause someone wanted to avoid tolls" You rolled your eyes to him.

"You fuckin' think I'm willing going to pay 90 dollars to those bastards?" He lightly hit the steering wheel in frustration.

"Well it would only be half-"

"It's not about the money..." He broke off as you both crawled along the road.

Nine hours into the twelve hour road trip, and both of you were starting to feel it. You were looking rough to begin with, but now you both felt just as rough.

With you behind the steering wheel again, you glanced over and saw him gaze out the window, his head leaned back. You didn't know if he was asleep. The sun was slowly starting to make its way down. The dusky sky was followed by an early dark night.

"Pull over at the next gas station." Carmy spoke up, looking over at you.

"Why?" You checked your rearview mirror and blind spot before turning your blinker on.

"Chicago is a mess when it comes to one ways. It'll be easier if I drive the rest of the way" He explained licking his lips.

You didn't fight him on this. You hated driving in a new city, the stress of the traffic, especially in a truck that was a lot bigger than your old car, you were glad he offered.

You switched sides and felt a ping of sadness that the road trip was near to an end. You were glad that the move was finally over, but wished you appreciated being around Carmy more. You felt the need to cling onto every minute spent with him. The feeling that you got in your stomach, your gut. You haven't felt that in a long time. The peace you had with him when cruising down the highway.

"What's your address?" He asked as you pulled up to a stop at a red light.

You pulled up your email confirming your lease contract on your new apartment. He glanced over, his eyebrows immediately popping up.

"You're fuckin' kidding me, ight?" He scoffed.

"What?" A hint of worry in your voice.

"Could you have picked a rougher neighborhood?" He asked sarcastically.

"I asked Sugar an-"

"Suga hasn't a fuckin' clue. Why didn't you ask me? Or anyone else...." He ridiculed.

"It can't be that bad." You dismissed his attitude, trying to reassure yourself.

There was a moment of silence with the red light turning green.

"Fuck- okay. it's fine. But if any- I mean any shit goes on, you immediately call me or Richie, okay?" He took his eyes off the road staring at you.

"Yea- yes, of course" You nodded pressing your lips in a fine line.

As you traveled through Chicago, you looked through the perspective of it as your new home. You took note of maybe some cafes and shops you wanted to go visit. You started to see more and more neglected buildings as you got closer and closer to your new apartment.

"I didn't have many options." You blurted out.

"With the timeframe I had and what I can afford right now. It was between this place and another, but I would have to wait another week before getting the other place, " you explained, feeling uneasy looking out at the streets.

"W-why didn't you tell me? We could have worked something out? You know I would have fixed you up with somethin'," He said softly.

You looked over and saw his eyes soften. You felt guilt, layered on top of all the negative feelings that were in your stomach right now.

"I didn't want to be in the way. I felt like I was already a burden with taking you away from the restaurant for the last couple of days" You brought your head down not wanting to go down this train of thought.

Carmy brought his hand up to his face and rubbed his forehead. He didn't want to make the situation worse. He wanted to pick his words carefully, feeling your uneasiness beside him.

"Look, the place isn't probably that bad and it's not forever" He gave a small smile trying to comfort you.

"Six months" You whispered feeling completely disheartened by the change in atmosphere in the last couple of moments.

"Yea- that's good. That'll fly by" He smiled again.

But it was too late, his first reaction was the real one and not what you needed. To move to a big city by yourself is hard enough. To do it in the bad part of town is not something you wanted to also deal with.

"What number?" He asked, looking out his side window

"Two thirty," you whispered.

Carmy continued down the street at a slow speed, keeping track of the numbers on the buildings.

"Here" He pointed in front of him pulling over to the curb.

You didn't even want to look. The weight in your stomach was keeping you from looking up. The adrenaline from New York had worn off, leaving you with disappointment and worry.

Carmy hopped out of the truck and was looking at a building that was a little run down, but the entrance was clean, and there were no dodgy people around that he noticed right away. He looked up and down the street to see a corner shop and a laundromat closest. He instinctively took out a cigarette and light it inhaling the smoke. He turned back to the truck window to still see you in the seat, looking down.

"Shit" He muttered to himself knowing he fucked up. He had to say exactly what was on his mind. He couldn't just keep it to himself and wait til' you got here. He mindlessly kicked a pebble on the ground while finishing his cigarette, trying to think what would be the best thing to do. He didn't want to make things worse. You were both on your reserves when it came to energy and patience with each other. He didn't want to stumble at the final hurdle.

After a few minutes, you heard the door being pulled open on your side.

"Hey... Look, I'm sorry... this is a really nice building from what I can see..." He braced his arm on the door jam.

"You're just sayin-"

"I'm not... I'm really not. I'll promise to tell you if your apartment looks like a shithole when we go see it"

You looked up to see his dead serious face break into a smile. You felt a smile creep up on your face even though you didn't want it to.

"C'mon" He nodded up, bringing his hand out for you to grab.

He helped you down off the truck, and you went inside with him right behind.

As you went to the building managers office, he walked around feeling out the place. He walked to the mailing room, which was a mess with piles of neglected mail from past tenants.

The place overall smelt like stale bleach. It was dated and worn, but it was clean. He was grateful for that.

"Got it"

He noticed how quiet you were. He would looked over and you give him a weak smile. But deep inside he knew you weren't okay. He wanted to hug you and hold you. He never had the intension to hurt you and he was pissed off with himself that he did.

You made your way to the fourth floor and made a wrong turn on the hallway before turning back.

"Here it is, 46C," you hummed, sticking the key in the hole.

With the door swinging open, you both walked in. The layout was close to your old apartment. The door opened to the living room with a hallway to your left where the kitchen and bedroom lead.

You walked into the living room where blank walls faced you with two windows looking out to the street below.

"Bathroom isn't bad" you heard Carmy call out further in the apartment.

You walked over to see him sitting on the toilet lid.

"I see you're giving it a test ride," you chuckled.

"Someone has to." He shrugged jokingly.

Him seeing you chuckle, even if it was a light one made him feel somewhat better than he didn't completely wreck the evening.

You turned around to see the bedroom directly across. It could comfortably fit a queen bed, which was a relief. From the pictures, you couldn't tell if the bed would be cramped in it.

"So, I was thinking the bed would be here?" You whipped around, spreading your arms, imitating the size of the bed.

"In the middle?" Carmy asked walking in behind.

You nodded, turning around to face the wall.

"Yeah... I think that would work," you grinned seeing the potential in this room.

You continued to imagine how the rest of your belongings would fit in your new bedroom.

"Let's get started. There's a lot to move still," he made his way out of the room.

The curse words that were uttered from both of you as you awkwardly moved the big pieces of furniture first. It was a close call when it came to the mattress fitting in the elevator. Carmy was adamant that it was going to fit.

"No way in fuckin' hell was I gonna drag this shit up four floors." He gave out as he was crushed against the elevator holding the mattress.

Both of your faces were flushed red and sweat gleaming from the heavy lifting.

Carmy and you struggled as you dragged the plastic covered mattress down the hall to your apartment. It was the last of the big pieces with mostly boxes left to carry.

Another hour, and the truck was finally empty. You took your phone out of your pocket to check the time. Eight o clock shined back at you.

"Damn, getting pretty late" You huffed, pushing the stray hairs from your face.

"I'll return the truck tomorrow," you continued watching Carmy close the back doors of the truck.

You stood there looking at each other for a beat.

"I better head home," Carmy said, taking a few steps back.

"What? No- I owe you dinner. It's the least I could do", you crossed your arms, feeling the cold around you.

"You sure?" He checked, with his head down looking up through his lids.

With Chinese on your lap, you looked across to see Carmy lean up against one of your many boxes with his legs stretched out in front of him on the floor.

"You're right, it's pretty good," you hummed, enjoying the burst of flavor in your mouth.

Carmy nodded along, tucking into this food eagerly.

The apartment was mostly quiet with the odd random distant yell from outside, you presumed to be crackheads.

"I know you won't believe me, but I really do like this place" He looked up around your living room.

"The location is shit, but..."

"I know, but this place has potential." You smiled, finishing off his sentence.

"Yeah," He said in a soft tone, turning up the corners of his mouth.

His eyes lingered on yours for a moment. You traveled your eyes down his neck, chest, and down his arms.

You would be lying to yourself if you didn't notice his arms when he helped your lift heavy boxes. He refused to let you lift anything that he thought you might struggle with. He was considerate. Always thinking about you in a way that no one else would. Your friendship meant so much to you. In a moment like this, you felt that you might need his friendship a lot more than he might need yours.

Here you are, in Chicago. Working with one of your closest friends. Nothing else is here, only him. The vulnerability you felt in that moment, developed fear that you hadn't felt before.

"I can't believe you're actually here" Carmy spoke out, breaking your swirling thoughts.

"I know, it's just hitting me too," you said in a dissociated daze.

His eyebrows furrowed for a brief moment, wondering what you were thinking. Were you regretting your decision?

"I think you'll like Chicago," He said positively, keeping his eyes on you.

"Mhmmm," you murmured, your eyes glazed over and your mind in another world of your own.

"Y-you're not regretting your de-"

You snapped out of your trance and glanced over to Carmy to see his face covered in concern.

"No- no, no." You shook your head and smiled reassuringly.

He played with the food left over on his lap.

"Well... um.. you know I'm here, right?" He questioned.

"I know," you murmured, bringing your head down.

"I'm not goin' anywhere." He continued, leaning forward, trying to meet your eye line.

There was this sadness that you couldn't shake since getting here. You could feel it deep in your stomach. Was it anxiety? That reality has finally hit you in the face? The excitement that you felt earlier wasn't there and it worried you even more.

Carmy knew there was something up. You weren't present since you've arrived. It was a long few days for both of you, and it could have been exhaustion, but he didn't want to leave you alone. He felt guilty just walking away, especially when something was up.

You kept your head down, not wanting to make eye contact with him. You were afraid that if you did, you would completely break down and cry.

A moment later, you just heard him shuffle. You felt a warm hand on top of yours. You saw inked fingers grasp yours and a body of warmth wrapping you in a hug.

You couldn't hold back. You felt your tears spill over. You turned into his chest and buried your face into his white t-shirt.

"It's okay... you'll be okay. " He hummed and pressed you closer to him.

You sat there for a couple of moments. No other words were spoken. His embrace eased the anxiety that you were feeling. You had no idea what came over you. This was not the feeling you were expecting when first moving in.

You eventually pulled away, wiping your puffy eyes. Your face was red hot from all the crying.

"I-I'm sorry." You forced a smile on your face.

He looked at you with a comforting smile, his blue eyes flickering between yours.

"Don't be." He whispered, his arm still wrapped around you.

"I'm.... just glad to be here for you." His thumb caressed the back of your hand.

Both of you sat in your new apartment floor in between several boxes scattered. The apartment was cold and bare, but Carmy was radiating heat. You leaned into him with your legs against each other. You looked away from his kind blue eyes and sniffled. You wanted to savor this moment. The peace you felt with him.

Your soft hand under his rough fingertips made him realise that he would be happy staying like this all night. If you wanted him there, he wouldn't budge. His thoughts carried on from what your hand felt like to what maybe your lips would feel like. He could only imagine the tenderness he would feel against his.

What the hell is wrong with you?

She needs you. Don't fuck this up.

You eventually looked up at him again. Your eyes gazed at his beautiful messy hair, his fatigue blue eyes, and... his lips.

You went back to his eyes to catch him looking down at your lips. Your breath caught in your throat. Both of your eyes met in that second. Your faces inches away from each other.

Both of you scared to lean in. Both of you wanted it more than anything.

His rough fingertips grazing your cheek so lightly.

In that moment, you realized what you were risking. Did you really want to go down the same path you went down before? You move for a boy, fall for a boy... get hurt by a boy.

Carmy was all you got right now. You didn't want to risk anything that would make you lose that. As much you wanted to kiss him and give into every urge you had, the sting of your previous mistake was still there in the back of you mind. In this moment, you needed to take a step back before you did something you might regret.

You dropped your head not wanting to look into his eyes with what you were going to say next.

"Carmy...I-I can't," your voice barely audible.

"Fuck, I'm sorry- I don't..." He fumbled.

"I just... I've been here before. I can't make the same mistake,"

Carmy pulled away from you completely. His hands left yours, you felt the absence of heat immediately after he pulled away.

"I-I fucked up, I'm sorry" He shuffled to his feet.

"It's not that..." You tried to get words out, but before you knew it, Carmy had grabbed his jacket and was on his way out.

"Carmen," you sternly called out, getting up from the floor.

But the door was already shut. Your gut was twisting back and forth. You were so dazed on what just happened. It was too fast for you to even digest. You stood there for several moments trying to understand what was going on.

The last thing you wanted to do was hurt him. You felt your stomach churn realizing that you might have destroyed one of your closest friendships. You wanted him, you wanted to explain how you felt. You wanted him to convince you that you weren't making a mistake.

The deep feeling of anxiety in your stomach had emerged again, only this time much worse. As tears rolled down your face, you barely had the energy or will to tear the plastic wrapping off your mattress and root in the box, that was labeled 'bedding', to get a pillow and blanket. You let your body fall back on the mattress and instantly closed your eyes. This was suppose to be a new beginning in a new city. That clearly wasn't happening now that you've hurt one of the only people who you were close to in this city. The sirens in distance helped you phase into a deep sleep. Fatigue finally taking over your body. You didn't have any energy left to do anything else.

Carmy got back to his apartment, his stomach in knots. repeating the last moment he had with you. Remembering the pounding in his heart when looking into your eyes. Then, the sensation morphing into a sharp pain when you said his name in a negative tone.

He couldn't stop thinking about it over and over. He didn't even remember walking home. After you said his name, everything turned into a blur. The tone in your voice made him feel ashamed of himself. Were you disappointed in him as a friend when you needed him most? That you thought he was trying to take advantage of you at your most vulnerable? All these thoughts were whizzing around in his brain. His rational thoughts were no longer pushing through.

Should he have stayed to explain himself? Explain what he felt for you was something real that he's never had before. It's the surest thing that he has in his life right now, his feelings for you.

The last few days his thoughts made it plainly obvious that he wants to be more than friends. He was able to admire you when he usually couldn't. The everyday you. The you that was sleeping, eating, just living. He caught himself smiling to himself multiple times for no real reason. The only difference was, he was around you.

He kicked his shoes in the corner, dropping his jacket on the ground before dropping back on the couch. To say he was deflated was an understatement. The thought of seeing you tomorrow would usually make his pulse speedup but now, he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

He went through all the awful scenarios in his head. Were you going to ignore him? Or tell him to fuck off? Or tell him that you only ever saw him as a friend? Nothing else.

The last one drove a lump in his throat. He knew he wasn't going to get much sleep tonight. He didn't even care if he didn't. The only thing he wanted now was tomorrow to go by as fast and painlessly as possible.

Chapter 5

Masterlist of other fics

Taglist: wabi-sabi1090

[melanieph321]

Dominik Szoboszlai x Black Reader - Not Enough Part 2/6

Part 1

Summary - Reader is excited to meet Dominik's parents but is shocked to find out that they are very prejudiced and do not approve of her.

Enjoy!

You fell in love with Hungary. It was such a beautiful city with such a vibrant culture. Everywhere you went, people seemed to engage in activities that you had never heard of before. Like pottery, for example. It was definitely an odd activity to engage in, especially in the middle of the street. However, the Hungarian's seemed to enjoy it. You even brought home a pott that a lady had worked on for more than an hour. It was decorated with hearts which you thought would be a suiting gift for your boyfriend.

"Honey, I'm home!" You announced. You and Dominik had been staying at a hotel while in Budapest. It was a nice little getaway for you, but for Dominik, it was just another business trip. The Hungarian people were crazy about him. And ahead of the European championship, Dominik and his teamsmates are required to meet with fans and stakeholders of the Hungarian men's football team. This left you to roam the streets of Budapest on your own since Dominik was busy during the day. Nevertheless, there was no better feeling than coming home to the love of your life.

"Wake sleepy head. I got you a present."

"Hmmm?"

You found Dominik sleeping on top of the bed, fully clothed.

"I'm sorry to wake you, baby. Did you have a long day?"

"Yes, now don't just stand there, bring me my gift." Dominik was quick to release the pillow he had been hogging in his arms. He then stretched for you where you stood beside the bed.

"Come here." He muttered. "Bring me my gift."

You chuckled as his grasping hands tugged your shirt. Dominik pulled you down to lay with him in bed, smothering you with tight hugs and kisses.

"Baby, I'm not your gift."

"Yes, you are." He said, snuggling his face into the crook of your neck. "The best gift I've ever gotten."

"No, I actually bought you something from the street market that I visited today."

"You did?"

The kisses seized.

"Yes, would you like to have it?"

"Hell yeah, bring it here!" Dominik was quick to sit up in bed, not minding the way his hair was tousled from the sheets. He watched you slip out of bed and retrieve the gift from your bag. He was like an eager child on Christmas Eve as you brought it to him, wrapped paper, containing the sculptured pot. Dominik ripped it open despite you warning him to be cautious. However, his shoulders rose and fell at the sight of it.

"It's a...mug?"

"No baby, it's a pott."

"A what?"

"A pott, like for decorations."

"Oh, a pott." He nodded, although the dent between his brows gave him away. "What are you supposed to do with it?"

"I dunno, you tell me?" You chuckled. "The lady said it's a tradition for Hungarian's to engage in pottery." You joined Dominik on the bed again, watching as he turned the pott in his hand, regarding it with furrowed brows.

"Well, If it's not for drinking, I don't know what it's for."

"Ha ha." You muttered, unhanding him the decor item. "I thought it was cute, and if you don't like it, I'll just gift it to your parents instead."

"My parents?" Dominik frowned.

"Yeah, when we visit them."

"Right, about that..."

"What?"

You had always dreamt of meeting Dominik's parents. It only seemed natural after the two of you celebrated your three year anniversary. But every time you brought up, Dominik seemed to hesitate and would often change the subject. You thought things would be different arriving to Hungary but even here, when the distance to his family was no longer the issue, Dominik still hesitated to bring you there, insisting that you stay in Budapest where the travel to meet and greet with the Men's team would be less.

"I just don't think that it's a good idea." He said.

"But you always say that."

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but I didn't come here to visit my family. I have a job to do."

"Really, then why do I get a feeling that you don't want ME to meet your parents."

"Y/N." Dominik sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It's just... my parents can be a bit... difficult," he said, choosing his words carefully. "They're not very open-minded, and they can be pretty judgmental."

You felt a pang of disappointment and hurt. So Dominik really didn't want to introduce you to his parents. But why? Was he embarrassed of you?

You tried to keep your emotions in check and pressed him for more information. "What do you mean by 'difficult'?" You asked, trying to keep your voice even.

"Well... they have a certain idea of what kind of person they want me to date, and it's not always the most... inclusive," Dominik replied, his voice filled with frustration. "They've made it clear that they don't approve of me dating someone from a different culture, and they've said some pretty hurtful things in the past."

You felt a wave of anger wash over you. "Well, we're not dating Dominik, I'm your girlfriend, of three years to be exact"

"I know, I know." He walk over to you, grabbing your head in his hands. "You're my girlfriend." He smiled, eyes bright in the sun. "And I want you to meet my family, trust me. But you must also trust me when I say that it's not a good idea right now."

How was this true, you thought. How could Dominik's parents be so close-minded. What exactly had Dominik told them about  you? There was only one way to find out. You knew that you had to meet them and confront them to show them that you were a worthy partner for their son.

"I want to meet them," you said, voice firm. "I want to see for myself what kind of people they are, and I want them to see that I'm not just some 'other' person, I'm your girlfriend."

Dominik stared into your eyes, surprised by your determination. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

"Yes, I'm sure," you replied, your heart racing with anticipation. "I'm ready to meet the parents."

Part 1

[nhlclover]

FEARLESS | TREVOR ZEGRAS

word count: 0.97k

summary: your first date with trevor might end up changing your life for the better

warnings: based on 'fearless' by taylor swift, making out

The lights in the theatre come on as the credits of the movie begin to roll on the screen. I stand up alongside Trevor, my legs feeling slightly wobbly after sitting for almost 3 hours.

“What’d you think of the movie?” Trevor asked me. I contemplate telling Trevor my true thoughts about the movie he picked for us to see.

A while ago, Trevor had approached me at the grocery store as I was picking out a carton of eggs. He told me he thought I was pretty and wanted to know if I would go out on a date with him. I had never seen someone so bold. So I said yes. He offered up going to the movies and I agreed. Since he was paying for my ticket, he picked the movie, which ended up being some movie starring Nicholas Cage.

“It was…” I falter.

“It was bad, right?” He asks.

“Yes, I’m sorry.” I laugh, following him out of our theatre. “It was really, really bad.”

“That’s my bad. You probably shouldn’t have let me pick the movie.” He laughs.

There's something 'bout the way The street looks when it's just rained There's a glow off the pavement, you walk me to the car And you know I wanna ask you to dance right there In the middle of the parking lot

We exit to the parking lot, the lamps causing the pavement glowing from the recent rain. Trevor slyly slips his hand into my mine as we walk to his car. I smile at the gesture. The parking lot is close to empty as we saw the movie at a late showing. I almost consider asking Trevor to dance in the middle of the parking lot but don’t. It's only our first date after all.

I get in the passenger seat while he gets in the drivers seat, starting up the car. “I have somewhere I want to take you.” Trevor tells me. “If you’re up for it.”

I don't want this date to end just yet, enjoying the presence of Trevor so much, so I agree.

We're driving down the road, I wonder if you know I'm trying so hard not to get caught up now But you're just so cool, run your hands through your hair Absentmindedly making me want you

He pulls out of the parking lot, handing me his phone and telling me to pick out the music. I put on some country music which Trevor approves of by cranking the volume and lowering the windows. We sing along to Luke Combs as we speed down the empty streets. I glance over at Trevor as he runs a hand through his dark blonde hair, tousling it. The action is innocent for him, but for me it sends a flurry of butterflies into flight, making me want him even more.

We finally come to a dead end up atop a hill, Trevor pulling onto the side. He perfectly positions the car so that we can see through a clearing of trees out into the city of Anaheim. “Wow.” I breathe out.

So, baby, drive slow 'til we run out of road In this one-horse town, I wanna stay right here In this passenger's seat You put your eyes on me In this moment now, capture it, remember it

“I know right.” He smiles. “This view never fails to take my breath away.”

“I bet you take all your girls out here.” I joke.

Trevor doesn’t laugh, but smiles softly. “No, actually. Just you.” He says as if coming to a realization. I examine his soft expression, taking a mental polaroid of him in that moment. His touseled hair falling perfectly into place, and his chain disappearing underneath his white shirt.

Trevor looks as though he wants to say something, his lips slightly parted as he looks at me. “It’s late. I should take you home.” He says finally, although not what I wanted to hear. I nod anyways as he starts back up the car.

The music starts up again, but this time we’re no longer singing. It feels as though something up on that hill was left unsaid. I spend the drive home wondering whether or not Trevor will kiss me when he drops me off. If he kisses me, then its a sign the date went well and he wants to see me again. However, if he doesn’t, it means he didn’t enjoy the date and the connection I felt the whole night was simply one-sided.

Well, you stood there with me in the doorway My hands shake, I'm not usually this way but You pull me in and I'm a little more brave It's the first kiss, it's flawless, really something It's fearless

When he pulls into my driveway, he gets out, opening the car door for me and walking me up to my door.

“Thank you for such an amazing date.” I say, genuinely to Trevor. “And thank you for showing me that amazing view.” I look down at my hands which are shaking as I anticipate his next move.

Suddenly, I feel his hand under my chin, lifting it so I’m looking into his eyes. He drops his hands to my hips, softly pulling me in. When I recognize what’s happening, I finish his actions, leaning up to him and pressing my lips to his. He is soft at first but recognizes my urgency and deepens the kiss. He hooks his fingers into my belt loops, pulling my hips into his. My arms are attached around his neck drawing him down to match my height. We both seem to gasp for air when we separate.

“I’ll call you when I get home.” He whispers to me. He presses another kiss to my lips before returning to his car, leaving me reeling from the kiss on my front porch.

[rudemaidenswrite]

Don't Belong Here

Part 5

part 4

By: @pusantheamazonian

Tag list: @rosecat5 @athenaricham-loves-orcs  @pandainfinitely @rivalriotrenegade @rouge-fire175 @happymoonangel @the-witchs-posts

You don't know why but it's time. There's just something gnawing in your brain that Ronnie needs to meet them. Now that you two are officially dating. Because if they don't approve of him you're going to cut your own heart out. And you'll never be happy again.

Anxiety ridden. Biting the bullet, you give them a call. And it's picked up on the first ring.

"Y/N! I hope you're not calling to cancel tomorrow." Immediately the motherly scolding begins, somehow she knows something is going on.

"Actually quite the opposite."

"What's wrong?" Worry fills her voice.

"I was hoping I could bring someone with me. There's someone I'd like you to meet." Biting your lip, you know she's going to say yes. But you don't want to risk the chance that the answer will be no.

"Of course dear. You can bring whoever you need to." You can hear the relief in her voice.

"Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow."

One phone call down, now the other. But there's no telling what he's up to today so quick text will do.

Ronnie, would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow? They're some people I want you to meet.

God. Why is this so hard to ask? You've rewritten the question three times. Nervously you push send. It's not like you're inviting him to have lunch with your parents and meet them for the first time. No it's just Tog and Dura. The ones who have looked after you and babied you since you moved here.

Damn it. They are your parents. As much as you hate saying it out loud to anyone. They are. Besides Charlie and Olivia already call them that.

*Ding*

Sure.

Great! Meet at my place at 11am.

Breathing a sigh of relief. Now here's to hoping everything goes well.

~

These people must be important to you. You have refused to say anything else about this lunch or even acknowledge that it's happening. He's got to step it up today, he definitely needs to look like a regular person.

The importance of this lunch is killing you. You already sorta know how Tog feels about this but Dura will likely kill Ronnie if she disapproves.

"Where is that dress?" Grumbling while sorting through the closet. You know that dress Dura bought you is in here and for extra bonus points you have got to wear it. Ronnie will be here any minute and you're still in your underwear. Not that he wouldn't mind but now is not the time.

"Ah ha!" Finding the dress, somehow you tucked it into a garment bag and shoved it all the way in the back of the closet.

Slipping the dress on you barely have enough time to finish getting dressed when there is a knock on the door.

Opening the door you can't believe it's him. He's in crisp new jeans and a button up shirt. There's no way he can clean up this good.

"H-hi." Stumbling over your words you have to force yourself to focus.

Damn she's gorgeous. Hair and makeup done. Smelling like blackberries again. The soft blue dress has matching beading around the neckline and belt. He's never seen you in a dress before. He'll never say it out loud but you usually dress like you're homeless or just rolled out of bed. You oddly feel like home.

"You didn't say what to wear. Hope I chose right." Shrugging you see his ears twitching awkwardly.

"Yes." Actually you couldn't care less about what he wore. They'll find out he's part of the Fogteeth sooner or later.

"We are meeting some important people of mine for lunch. Just let me get my purse." Staying positive is the only way to make it through the day.

Important people? Worried who's so important that you won't say who it is? He picked up on the fake smile just now. You now have him worried about this meeting.

~

He's been driving for about twenty minutes towards the outskirts of the city with you giving directions. The neighborhood seems decent enough. A bunch of smaller homes and it seems strangely quiet for the most part.

"This one here. With the iron fence." Quickly pointing at the house a few yards down.

He pulls into a blacktop driveway beside a white brick bungalow. Getting out of the truck he's hit with a variety of strong smells. Vegetables and flowers but the most noticeable one is Orc.

Making your way around the truck, you grab his hand firmly and lead the way.

"Are you feeling okay? You keep biting your lips." Asking he knows the answer. You're not and it's worrisome. Nervousness and fear keep wafting off of you, getting stronger with every step.

"Just a little nervous." Shrugging you try not to give away how terrified you actually are.

"You're nervous?"

"Well, you're the first person I've brought home." Fidgeting you quickly push the doorbell.

“Brought home?” Confused, he couldn't have heard you right.

The door swings open before you can answer him. An old orc woman answers. Excitement covers her face.

"Y/N! My darling daughter, it's so good to see you." She's loud and excited. He's never smelt such happiness from an orc about a human.

"You saw me a few days ago." Smiling, you give her a quick hug.

"So? If I had it my way you wouldn't be able to leave the house." Teasing she pinches your cheeks.

"Mam!" Embarrassed, you shoo her hand away.

"Oh hush. I don't want any sass from you. Your sister has enough of it. Now who is this?"

"Mam this is Ronnie. He's the one I talked to you about. Ronnie, this is my mother Dura." You calmly gesture between the two.

It doesn't go unnoticed that you introduced her as your mother and the happy gasp that came from her. She knows you're not very public with telling people who they are.

"Come in! Come in! Lunch is almost ready. Your father is setting the table now." Grinning Dura nods inside.

Holding Ronnie's hand tightly you head to the dining room. Pausing slightly you see him finish setting the table.

"Pap this is Ronnie. Ronnie, this is my father Tog."

He instantly recognizes the old orc you call father. He was working that day, he caused a scene.

He's stunned. The ones you call mother and father are orcs. In a moment time feels frozen but moving at hyper speed. The realization hits him hard. You have brought him to meet your parents. That's a serious commitment step especially in Orc culture. You're basically presenting him to the chieftain; the leader; your father that he is your chosen mate.

"Y/N, come help." Dura asks from the kitchen.

"Coming!" Giving Ronnie a smile you quickly pat his arm before disappearing into the next room.

"When we are together as a family for meals. We speak in our mother tongue. It helps keep the language alive." Tog explains in Bodzvokhan, with a stern face gesturing for Ronnie to take a seat.

"It’s so that we don't forget how to speak it." You lean over to whisper as you put some food on the table.

"Charlie speaks it too?" Surprised that thought never occurred to him.

"Yeah and so does Olivia but she's still learning." Trying not to smile at Ronnie's confused face you sit down beside him.

"How did you two meet?" Dura questions, passing bowls of food around. Not giving Ronnie a chance to process anything.

"Ah um at a Fogteeth block party." You don't necessarily know how to explain it.

"Y/N! Since when do you party?" Shocked, Dura's disbelief is evident.

"Because your daughter signed me up for a fight club. So they all know me now." Huffy you make it known what her sassy daughter has been up to.

"Y/N! What have I said about fighting?" Frowning, Dura tsk's you.

"To knock them out in one punch." You pretend to punch someone.

"Dura's father was a boxer. That's how we met. I worked as an errand boy when I was a child at the gym where her father trained." Tog interjects.

Now it clicks in his mind about why you can fight. My God you're from a family of Orc boxers.

"Could be worse, you forget that Charlie and Olivia met at a strip club." Sighing the way you and Ronnie met wasn't entirely a bad way, just very unconventional.

"Why do I believe that?" Ronnie laughs.

“They were both waitresses. Cause Charlie can't dance and Olivia is accident prone.”

The rest of the lunch visit goes well. No red flags popped up. And watching Ronnie interact with them is nice. It's not often you or Charlie bring someone here. Only after two years of dating was Olivia introduced and Ryan was only after graduation.

Gathering the leftovers for Charlie and Olivia. You see Pap and Ronnie walk outside.

"Y/N."

"Yes Mam?" Turning you see how worried she is.

"Are you sure? This will affect your reputation." Dura nods at him.

"I know Mam."

"As long as you're sure. I worry about you the most." Sighing she knows that once you've decided something, that's all that matters.

"I know."

Cupping your face with both hands, she gives you a soft forehead kiss.

Waiting on the porch Tog finds now is the time to personally talk to Ronnie

Outside he can feel and smell the anger and suspicion from Tog. The air seems to be electrified.

"I say this once. Harm Y/N in any way and you will not get off so easily as before. I am from the old country. I know how to get things done."

Astonished he never thought he would be threatened like this. But it doesn't come as a complete surprise since he has been a jerk before because of stupidity.

"I don't plan on that happening again."

“Good. She's the most stubborn and sensitive of two. As you are well aware by now.”

~

Back at your apartment you quickly set the food on the counter and properly face Ronnie. You could tell he was thinking about stuff from how silent in the truck he was.

"Sorry I sprung this on you like this. I didn't know exactly how to say ‘come meet my parents who happen to be Orcs’.” Apologizing, you don't want him to be mad about today.

"Daughter?" Questioning he tugs on the shirt of your dress.

"Yeah. Basically adopted us. Me first, then when I said I had a sister they were ecstatic."

"They're never letting you go." He gently grabs your hand intertwining the fingers.

"Good cause I'm not letting them go." Smiling, you know it's the truth. If anything were to happen to them. You'd probably go crazy. "The first few years I lived here were harsh. I survived on my savings and their generosity. At one point I was living with them. After scrimping and saving. I had enough money to buy a decent house or a really good apartment. But then Pap lost his job at the factory. So in secret I bought that house for them. With the money I had left over, my sister moved in with me into an apartment."

Besides the fact that you were only eighteen when you moved here with everything you owned stuffed into your car. Thinking you were a badass with no definite plan. You skipped graduation as payback for your parents kicking you out on your eighteenth birthday and living with a friend for the last four months. That they took pity on your stupid self. Working two jobs and going to school full time. You had lost all control of time and self preservation. They made it their mission to make sure someone was taking care of you since you dropped the ball on it. Before deciding that it would be best if you were to move in, to pool resources. And them giving you courage to fully do what you want with support.

"What do their children think of this?"

"Their son Mek died as a child and never had any more." Shaking your head sadly. "Charlie and I joke that Mek is our guardian angel."

Smelling the sadness he changes the topic.

"So how is it with work then?" That's always been a question burning in his head. He's never heard of an orc to have an actual decent job.

"Manny is my full time assistant. Pap works as my part time assistant."

"How do you have orcs as assistants?" There's no way you have that many Orcs actually working with you.

"The loophole is that I'm allowed to have two assistants of my choosing. They have to pass a background check and be personally trained by me." Giggling you boop his nose at your secret.

"Damn. That's a good loophole."

"Manny already knows us, he used to work at the same factory. So why not? I choose my father and a family friend that acts like my big brother." You start to fidget with his buttons.

"You've never said your parents are orcs. Why?" Taking a risk, the question makes you ooze out sadness and loneliness.

"Granted they've probably already had their share of hate. It throws everyone off at first but they taught me how real parents should act. I love them so much I just want to freeze time and wrap them up in bubble wrap." Sighing there's just an unexplainable love for Dura and Tog. "I don't want anything to happen to them. And just shouting to the world that my parents are Orcs will cause unnecessary hate."

Pausing he lets everything sink in. Everything he knows and what he found out today. “Sprinkles, you are the most complicated person I have ever met. With an immensely kind heart."

"Thanks." A defeated chuckle escapes. "Besides, you have no idea how restricted and complicated the adoption process is. But to adopt from another race is nearly impossible. The only successful cases were those involving half breeds but then they were only allowed to be adopted by whatever races they were a part of."

"How do you know this?"

"When I was nineteen I wanted them to adopt me. So I went and got the paperwork and researched everything. But I wasn't able to do anything about it, besides this country doesn't recognize adult adoption as being legal."

"That's bullshit!" Scoffing that's ridiculous.

"I know!"

[thatfreshi]

Ok so... Idea for Astorian? What if the reader was some form of Flamenco dancer? Or something of the sorts, who acts like a bard, but instead of using an instrument they dance to perform magic. Not forced at all ofcorse!! I love the way you write him, it feels like you've nailed his character!

Uhm... if you guys want a part two... yeah. Let me know LMAO

TW - general horniness, reader is threatened at dagger-point

Recommended Song: Shirt - SZA

"Yeah, I just dance and then... magic."

The way Astarion first narrowed his eyes at you when you expressed that you couldn't really do anything else, he thought it was laughable.

"So you don't really fight, you just have fun while everyone else is actually doing things?"

"No, I have to actually be good at it! That's like saying you just open doors."

"Well that would be extremely rude because these hands do much more than open doors my dear."

You rolled your eyes, and he smirked. Now, this was before the two of you even slept together, let alone become an item. Over time Astarion has come to understand just how important of an asset you are to the group, but more specifically how he can't keep his eyes off of you on the battlefield. Whenever you can, the two of you find some time alone in the city to find you the most gorgeous flowy outfits, partially because they're easier to move in, but he also loves spoiling you, especially if he benefits from the view. He likes stitching little messages into the loose pieces of fabric, anything in between love notes and threats to people who have even thought about hurting you. The most recent one reads 'If the person wearing this is dead, you're next.'

Somehow, you and your rag-tag group have ended up being tasked with a group of bandits outside of Baldur's Gate. Does it have anything to do with the tadpoles or anything else important? No, of course not, but you have a hard time not helping people in need.

When you come across the group of bandits, it's apparent that they're not going to be a problem. While you're staking out their camp, Astarion comes behind you, whispering in your ear.

"If we make quick work of this, I'm sure we could find somewhere afterwards, for the two of us."

It sends a shiver up your spine, but you laugh it off, turning to look at him.

"You think you're funny, huh? Come on, we have work to do."

"Oh trust me, I know."

Maybe you should find a new way to cast magic, because it cannot be good for him to be horny mid-fight. Then again, it never seems to be a problem, so maybe it doesn't matter? Astarion certainly is an odd specimen, but you love him anyways.

"I am begging the two of you to stop flirting on the battlefield, please."

Gale pleads, wishing the two of you could keep it in your pants for once.

"Listen, once you find someone who completes your heart like Tav completes mine, you will understand. Until then, I'd stop complaining."

You nudge him and then whisper.

"Aster, you are talking to the guy who had sex with Mystra, and then became a literal bomb to try and win her approval."

"Damnit, I always forget about that! Fine, whatever. If Mystra were here, you would be just as lustful as I am, no matter the circumstances."

Gale grumbles to himself and walks off to the others, as Karlach prepares to make the first strike. She makes the signal, and you all take your positions. Astarion always insists on staying close to you, taking you with him on the flank if he has to. No one tries to argue, because he doesn't trust anyone else to keep you safe.

"Damnit, ambush!"

One of the bandits calls out, a tiefling. Gale casts grease, making their camp light up in flames from the campfire. Karlach strikes one of the bandits from behind, knocking them into the fire, effectively killing them. You don't realize though that one of the bandits had taken a trip to the forest to relieve himself, and he comes up behind you. Suddenly, you're swallowing fear with a dagger to your throat.

"Cease fire! Or the pretty one gets it."

As soon as the others look over in concern, the man's throat has been pierced, some of the blood splattering onto your face. Astarion drinks until your attacker hits the ground, the dagger falling out of a bloodless hand. You catch sight of Shadowheart, who is in close-quarters combat with a drow, and you turn to your lover.

"Come here!"

He doesn't ask questions, and he grabs your hands, spinning you out towards the fight as you send a fire bolt the drow's way. She falls quickly. Soon enough, Lae'zel finishes off the last of them, and Shadowheart casts water across the flames, making sure nothing else is burnt down. You try to catch your breath with the rest of the group, and you realize Wyll is injured, a gash across his shoulder. Normally Halsin or Shadowheart would deal with such a wound, but it's been a long day, and you're the only one with any healing magic left in you. With a few moves of your hips, you send out a healing ward, patching him up rather quickly.

"Thank you Tav."

Astarion comes to your side immediately after, almost as if he's jealous, wrapping an arm around your waist. As the others start going through the bandits' treasure, your lover wipes the blood off of your face.

"Surprised you didn't lick it off."

"I'm sure his blood was rancid, I much prefer yours."

If someone told you a year ago that someone saying they want to drink your blood was a turn-on, you would've laughed them all the way to Waterdeep. Now, you struggle to stand properly, holding your thighs together. He keeps his hand on your face, grip a little tenser than before.

"You need to be more careful when we're out there. I know these people were practically dead already, but some people won't try to trade you off like a token."

Normally you'd roll your eyes, tell him you obviously know that, but you just nod, and his thumb creeps over to your bottom lip.

"Astarion, we can't get this thing open!"

You're interrupted by a shout from Karlach, and Astarion kisses your cheek.

"I'll finish this later I suppose. Come my love, time to loot these insolent fools."

It's as if he set up the scenario perfectly, like he wanted the two of you to be interrupted. Hopefully he keeps his word.