#fuck yeah more bottom micah here we go

[aprillikesthings]

can I finish this before I gotta get ready and leave for the Maundy Thursday service let's find out lol

(Edit: Nope.)

THREE MORE EPISODES LEFT

*cries*

s5 ep11 Failsafe

someone hold me

I have to actively suppress the urge to read the synopses of the episodes at this point

oh also lol this is just funny to me, I saw a post Elsewhere Online where someone watched all of spop the first time and they HATED the dumb names everyone has, and I think they mentioned Castaspella specifically.

And like FIFTY PEOPLE responded with "dude they had to use the original names from the 1980's series" and I was the only one there old enough to have watched the original series and I had to point out: the original series was made to sell toys. The vast majority of cartoons in 1985 were only made to sell toys. They gave everyone those dumbass names because it was easy for kids to remember and beg for the toys."

That's also why all the female characters in the original series have the exact same body type. Yeah the body shape itself was due to 1980's-era sexism, but also? It was so much cheaper to animate the show AND make the toys that way!

But also, it's hella ironic to me that the 2018 show has so little official merch!

And now, back to crying over cartoon lesbians:

good question

ugh I hate her

Shadow Weaver: "While you were traipsing around in space,"

OH MY GOD they were saving a few people's LIVES and it was kind of IMPORTANT but WHATEVER

"--some of us have been working to stop the Heart of Etheria from falling into Prime's hands. And we discovered the same thing you did. Rumors of a Failsafe that will break the restraints the First Ones built and set the stolen magic free." Glimmer: "Are you kidding? After everything that happened last time, you're still going after the Heart of Etheria? And you're helping her?" Castaspella: "We're trying to free the magic for all of Etheria so we can be strong enough to fight Prime. I'm doing this for your father and for you. Shadow Weaver is the lesser of two evils."

I love that she says this right in front of Shadow Weaver. Like "girl I hate her too"

nice

okay ngl I have mixed feelings about this one because unfortunately she's not entirely wrong here but also, shut the fuck up

(something something people are responsible for their own actions but also she wouldn't have done all that godawful shit if Shadow Weaver hadn't been such a shitty parent)

but yeah Catra gets up like she's about to fucking throw some hands and Adora's like It's okay bb

;_;

but also they do need the information Shadow Weaver and Castaspella have

so it turns out Mystacor was built on top of a First Ones' citadel? huh

Castaspella: "Beneath Mystacor, there are many secret tunnels and rooms, forgotten and sealed off. No one has been able to access them in centuries, but there are whispers of what they contain." Shadow Weaver: "An artifact known as the Crystal of Arxia, hidden there by a group of traitorous First Ones." Castaspella: "You said I could do it!"

lol they bicker like old marrieds

Adora: "If you figured it out on your own, why come back here? Why do you need us at all?" Shadow Weaver: "Because Mystacor is controlled by Micah, who, you may recall, is controlled by Horde Prime."

they've been TRYING

"If he seizes the Heart, it will all be over."

Stop toUCHING HER

oh god Adora turns around to ask Catra to help out--and she's gone

YOU'RE THE REASON SHE'S FUCKING "SULKING" and you fucking know it, why are abusers always so god damned surprised to find out their kids don't want to be anywhere near them

(I mean I know why, they think they should be able to control you forever)

aaahahaha Adora's just like Nah I'mma go look for her tho

anyway roll intro!

omg look at Netossa and Spinny on the bottom left awwwww

she looks so sad

well okay sad and angry

their conversation here is so good, because Catra's fully aware of why Adora's doing this, but is really struggling to push past how much she (justifiably!) hates Shadow Weaver and hates being around her

I actually do kinda wish I'd kept a list of all the times Adora does the self-sacrificial thing, separated into "someone asked her to do it" vs "nobody asked her to do it" lol

BUT ADORA EXPRESSES A NEED oh nice that's progress

Adora: "Hey, she can't do anything to us anymore. Please, come. We--I-could really use your help."

two things I really love about this: One, she doesn't say that she doesn't like Adora, just that it's not the reason she's going. Two, I feel like Adora knows damn well Catra's not being 100% honest here.

Like, to some extent Catra's saying this as a way of attempting to protect herself a little. She's taking baby steps towards vulnerability, and it's terrifying! And I think Adora can see that and is fine with it--not JUST because she's like "any crumbs are better than nothing" but ALSO because she doesn't want to push Catra.

Because yeah, if there was any actual doubt that Catra does like Adora--

WELL.

Entrapta was able to get Spinerella's chip out but says it had started fusing with her nervous system and they're running out of time to safely un-chip everyone.

But she's been digging around the network that connects all the chips to Prime, hoping to figure out how to disconnect everyone at once, and Bow gives her a little encouragement, it's really sweet.

OKAY so everyone who can, teleports to Mystacor with Melog making them invisible. (Apparently Catra doesn't get motion sick from it anymore which is nice lol)

I love the way they animated them being invisible

oh GOD okay

Catra turns around and says "looks like there's no sorcerers here" while, unfortunately, a sorcerer walks into the room. Shadow Weaver grabs Catra and puts her hand over her mouth to keep her quiet, and Catra (understandably!! but unfortunately!!) jerks away in fury and yells

And her fury causes Melog to drop the invisibility

And now the chipped sorcerer knows they're all there

they manage to duck the attack but Adora goes to transform into She-Ra--and can't do it

she had this issue last episode aaaugh it's not from being near Shadow Weaver she wasn't there

okay but also Adora runs behind a pillar to hide from an attack with Catra and it's cute

girl help why is this giving me so many emotions

y'know it's funny how often I've bumped into posts of people who are confused as to why Adora starts trusting Catra again so quickly, and I frequently wonder if they forget all the childhood flashback scenes of these two. To varying extents they both spent their entire childhoods seeing the other as their only consistent source of comfort and (something resembling) safety, and with some notable exceptions Adora's spent the last four seasons (which was like three or four years) visibly holding out hope that one day she could trust Catra again. This despite the fact that she now has other sources of safety and comfort and love!!! Being with Glimmer and Bow and everyone else was healing, sure; but it never erased her grief over losing Catra. She always, always held out the tiniest flame of hope that Catra would change sides.

And Catra basically tried lighting her own grief on fire (metaphorically and kinda literally) over and over and it just didn't go away, and I feel like when she saved Glimmer and apologized to Adora she had sort of come to terms with the fact that her grief over losing Adora couldn't be burned away, but of course by then she figured she'd fucked up so bad Adora would never forgive her or trust her again. And rather than take it out on other people or suffer any longer she was willing to just die, instead. She really did think that sending Glimmer to Adora was going to be her last act, and she wanted Adora to know she was sorry before she fucking DIED. And I don't think her saving Glimmer was consciously meant to be proof that she meant her apology, but it was. And that's part of why Adora trusts her again.

The fact is, even after everything that happened, both of them had a hole in their hearts shaped like the other. ;_;

And that's why Adora runs and hides behind the same pillar as Catra. (I mean yes, it was also closer, but that's not tHE POINT)

Anyway, this is all why, as I previously noted, Adora's not being pushy. That failed on her, spectacularly; the couple of times she tried it. Asking Catra to come along on this mission is the closest she's come. And even then, it wasn't "you're a good person deep down and you should change sides because I think I know you better than you know yourself," It was "please do this for me, because I need your help." And Catra is fully aware of how hard that is for Adora.

And these two still have a lot to work out post-canon (like, Catra has still got to deal with her need to not just be seen as Adora's sidekick/shadow, and lbh right now some of the rebellion is like "we're only putting up with you for Adora's sake" as if Catra was Yoko Ono) but that's part of why I'm writing a fic lolol

I have so many feelingssss on a related note I spent like fifteen solid minutes last night in bed having taken an edible and listening to my playlist and staring at this gifset lolol

ANYWAY Castaspella knocks out the chipped dude and they run for it

AAAND lol I gotta get ready to go to church. There's still 17:30 left on this episode. Pfft.

BACK FROM CHURCH I washed someone's feet, they washed mine, they stripped the altar, I go back at one or two in the morning for the overnight vigil

In the meantime: gonna finish this episode

(what is my life sometimes)

Entrapta plans to find a bunch of clones so she can figure out how their signals to Horde Prime work. Swift Wind is like Ugh, fine, I'll go with you, someone's gotta save your ass

Entrapta: "Thanks, bird horse!"

lol how many times have they had that convo

A family can be a sorcerer and her evil ex, a girl and a boy, two traumatized lesbians, and a cat

But also it looks like something out of an episode of Scooby Doo

Shadow Weaver opens a magic door

ngl that's PRETTY. like it's obviously about the Heart of Etheria but wow!

(and there's a dinosaur???)

Adora notices how stressed out Catra is and says "It'll be okay...Trust me." ;_;

Shadow Weaver: "There's no time to waste!"

"...disturbance."

The disturbance was your fault, dumbass. I am reminded of all the times my dad got angry at us for being afraid of him. And would hit us. For being. Afraid of him. Because y'know. That's how you stop a kid from being afraid of you. By hitting them.

In any case Shadow Weaver is still trying to get between them and separate them and I just really need this bitch to stop.

(Yes yes I remember she dies later)

Castaspella: "We're on the right path. The Crystal of Arxia was rumored to be the key to reaching deep magic within Etheria."

"But those who hungered for more power have long sought other ways to obtain the deep magic...with disastrous results."

HIT THE IMAGE LIMIT lemme reblog

[its-deputy-caleb]

Morbell HC’s

Okay so i’m really getting into the whole morbell ship and the more i go back to play rdr2 again, the more i ship these two. Also writing headcannons that are nsfw usually isn’t my style but i couldn’t help myself, I’m just a firm believer in bottom Micah and his praise kink so i hope it’s not too bad since it’s a little out of my comfort zone. Anyway i had wayyy too much fun writing this nonetheless. I’m gonna tag @kaaate bc today’s events inspired this.

————————————————————————

Fluff

What started out as drinking buddies turned into outlaws with benefits and then cowboy boyfriends.

Micah gets REALLY needy and constantly craves attention, especially after he’s had half a bottle of whiskey he finds himself staring at Arthur work around camp until it’s finally dark enough that he can wonder into his tent and sit in his lap where Arthur pampers him in kisses for hours.

Arthur will get really sweaty and take his shirt off to chop firewood just to be a tease knowing Micah stopped sharpening his knife a long time ago to stare instead.

The camp were pretty oblivious and only seemed to notice Micah started acting a lot nicer but that died the minute they saw Arthur spank Micah with a table cloth and told him to “behave himself like a good boy”

Poor Lenny on guard duty has seen them make out behind a tree on the outskirts of camp too many times.

At each new camp location they like to find the spot with the best view and they’ll spend a lot of their nights sitting there enjoying each other’s company.

Micah can’t sleep a lot of the time so Arthur will sit with him, Micah’s back pressed to his chest and their fingers laying tangled in his lap until Micah either falls asleep or they watch the sunrise together.

Arthur shows Micah all the things he likes to do like hunting and searching for artefacts, bones and rock carvings from some of the strangers he’s met and it ends up with him and Micah going on little adventures through the forest like they’re a bunch of teenagers.

Arthur likes to draw Micah when he’s not looking, there’s lots of sketches of Micah when he’s sitting around the fire or when he’s cleaning his precious guns.

Micah took a peak at his journal one day after Mary-Beth said Arthur was really talented at drawing and was surprised to see so many drawings and sketches of himself.

He was surprised by the little messages written besides the drawings all saying how Arthur was really happy with him, that he liked how Micah was changing for the better and how he felt smitten with him.

Micah will tease him saying he’s “getting soft cowpoke” but he knows that it’s hypocritical because he’s just as smitten with Arthur if not more.

Arthur’s horse and Baylock are dating i’m not debating this.

NSFW

The thing about Micah and Arthur is that they will do it literally anywhere. Micah can get really bratty sometimes and will work Arthur up until he gets pushed into the closet alleyway next to the saloon or a barn or a hotel room.

It can be really crowded in camp and usually Arthur is busy helping out with the chores while Micah spends all day planning leads with Dutch so they both get really excited to go out on jobs together.

They plan easy jobs like robbing coaches and homesteads which can be done with just the two of them as an excuse to run off for a few days so Arthur can finally have his way with Micah without any interruptions. (Ms Grimshaw is literally scarred for life after Sean’s return party)

If the job goes well, Arthur will bend Micah over the nearest surface and fuck him hard but slow, whispering all sorts of praise down his ear. Telling him how proud he is and that he did so well on the job and deserves a reward which gets Micah blushing every time he’s praised and moaning louder than any working girl in valentine.

If the job goes wrong then all of Arthur’s pent up frustrations and anger about not getting any money or getting ambushed by O'driscolls gets turned into fucking Micah. He’s usually a lot rougher which Micah will never admit to loving, but the sounds he makes when Arthur pull his hair harder and grabs ahold of his hips to keep him still confirms that he likes to be roughed up every once and a while.

Arthur has a long list of pet names, although their favourite is sweetheart which would make Micah feel embarrassed if he didn’t love the way it made him feel.

Micah is a sub and loves to give up control to Arthur. He’s always eager to get on his knees and he especially loves it when Arthur pulls his hair and talks down to him while he chokes on his cock.

Teasing is one of Arthur’s favourite things, he loves dirty talk but he’ll tease Micah about how sensitive he gets or how easy it is to make him whimper and tremble or how pretty he looks with his hair all tangled and sweaty.

Micah loves to be manhandled by Arthur. He loves the feeling of being pushed against the wall, Arthur crowding over him. He loves it when Arthur’s hands wraps around his thigh which reminds him of just how much stronger Arthur is compared to him.

Mostly he loves the way Arthur makes him feel wanted. Arthur knows exactly what he needs and will give it to him without judgement. Arthur knows he needs to give up control and be validated when he’s in a vulnerable position but he also knows he needs gentle treatment from time to time.

Micah will NEVER ask for it but he needs the soft and deep kisses that accompany the rough thrust of his hips. He needs the soft strokes of Arthur’s hand against his hip after he’s been gripping for too long. But mostly he needs the bone crushing cuddles that Arthur gives him while they’re still sticky and sweaty and still coming down from their highs.

[ificanthaveu]

Don’t Tell The RA || Shawn Mendes

Description: RA!Shawn asks for your help with studying for your final exam, but an RA should always expect the unexpected. 

A/N: Happy 1st day of my semi-not-really-ficmas! I’m positive I’ve used every winter/Christmas themed fic idea, but I scrounged together a few so here’s the first of the installment. These’ll probably all be pretty short (except for 1 probably bc i have a lot of ideas for it). Also.....if this gif doesn’t look like RA!Shawn trying to get his freshmen boys to stfu so they can start and end the hall meeting ASAP.

Word Count: 2.4k

You were the first person out of the room when your History professor dismissed you, meeting your awaiting roommate Micah across the hall. The two of you started walking back to your dorm without much of a word until she launched into how difficult her calculus exam is going to be.

“At least it’s related to your major. I’m about to fail a gen-ed,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “I’ve never liked History, and this is a literal nightmare.”

“Hey, only one more test, and we’re done,” she reminded you.

Before you could respond to her, you heard your name being yelled from behind you. The both of you stopped and turned around to see Shawn maneuvering his way in and out of people, his tall stature poking out from the rest as you smiled at him.

“Have you started studying for the final yet?” He asked as he fell into step with you and Micah, making your way out of the building.

You practically snorted with a head shake before you said, “Absolutely not. I’ve been so caught up in my biology classes that I’ve barely started looking at this. It’s not looking good for me.”

“We get it. You’re pre-med,” Micah mumbled before you elbowed her.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve cracked open the textbook since the first week,” he said.

“Oh, you opened yours? Mine’s still in the plastic wrap,” you said as proud as you could.

That earned a laugh from Shawn as he shook his head at you.

“You may be worse off than I am,” he said.

He paused for a moment, looking between you and where he had to turn to go to the freshman dorms, opposite campus from the junior ones.

“Would you wanna study tonight?” He asked.

You heard Micah choke on her breath as you prayed he didn’t hear it.

“Yeah, I definitely need it,” you replied.

“Can’t do it in our room,” Micah interjected quickly. “Josie is coming over for calc.”

“We can study at mine,” he said. “If that’s ok with you of course. We just might get interrupted by check-out questions.”

“Sounds just fine with me. I could never do what you do,” you said, looking up at him as he shrugged and looked away, the blush almost evident on his cheeks.

“Well, my room and board is paid for, so I’ll deal with throwing up freshmen in the bathroom at 2 am,” he said. “Does 7 work?”

“Sounds perfect,” you said as you turned to go towards your dorm. “See you then.”

Micah followed behind you as you began to cross campus, waiting until you were clearly out of earshot of Shawn.

“You really had to say we couldn’t do it in our dorm?” You asked as you gripped onto her wrist and she laughed. “Now I have to be extra alone with him.”

“That’s the point,” she said flatly. “Don’t act like you haven’t been staring at him all semester. That man is the total package.”

“And we’re studying together, nothing else,” you quickly pointed out.

“Well it may start that way but-“ you cut her off before she could finish.

“Don’t say something that won’t come true,” you said as you swiped into the building and walked up the stairs to your dorm.

“You wish it will though,” she said in a sing-song voice as you unlocked your door and pushed her in.

“So what are you wearing?” She asked as she whipped open your closet.

“I’m not changing,” you said.

Micah turned around and looked up and down at your sweatpants and sweatshirt with a look of disgust.

“Can you at least put leggings on and a clean sweatshirt? Maybe put your hair in a pony-tail instead of that bun that looks like it was slept in - scratch that - a bun that was slept in,” she said as she threw you a pair of black leggings and a school crewneck.

“This is ridiculous,” you mumbled as you changed.

“You’ll thank me later,” she called after you.

It had started snowing by the time 6:45 came around, and you began your trip across campus. You were regretting not wearing a jacket as you shivered and crossed your arms tightly around your chest.

The person at the front desk smiled at you as you made your way up to Shawn’s dorm, scanning the rooms for the one that said “Residential Assistant” on the front.

You knocked twice once you found it, rocking back and forth on your feet and trying to shake the cold. You glanced around at the winter-themed decorations around the hall before Shawn swung the door open.

“Hey,” he said brightly with that big smile that made you weak. “You look freezing.”

“I am,” you said as he welcomed you in. “Big mistake not wearing a coat.”

You scanned over his room quickly as he shut the door behind the two of you. He had white Christmas lights strung along his window, making for a beautiful reflection mixed with the snow. His overhead light was off, but the lamp beside his futon was on. It was surprisingly clean, but you attributed that to him never knowing when someone was going to need to talk to him.

Two mugs were situated on his desk in the corner of the room. He crossed the room and grabbed one and handed it to you.

“It’s mint tea,” he said. “Helps with studying.”

“Ah, of course,” you said, taking the mug and sitting on his, surprisingly comfortable, futon.

“And a blanket,” he said as he pulled it from the back of the couch. “Since you look like you might have hypothermia.”

“Thank you,” you said softly as you wrapped it tightly around your shoulders.

You pulled out your book and binder, flipping to the study guide that was handed out in class.

“Ok, where do you want to start?” You asked as Shawn pulled his slightly crumpled study guide from where it was tucked in his book.

“Well, I know nothing,” he said as he scanned over the paper. “Actually, I know one.”

“Which one?”

“The one he told us the answer for today.”

“That does not count.”

The two of you determined an order to study from as you kept his open textbook balancing on both of your knees, occasionally having to lean closer to the other to take a look at a passage.

Shawn skimmed the page, pointing at a passage and trying to explain it to you as you looked at him. You couldn’t hear a word he said as you watched how into the topic he got, using his hands to try to express his point. You sent the butterflies to the bottom of your stomach by taking a giant sip of the tea and moving onto the next question.

He asked you the next one, taking the textbook from you as you leaned an arm on the back of the futon. You glanced between him and the mini Christmas tree in the corner as you tried to explain it as best you can without the book as a crutch.

You looked back at him, his head cocked to the side and an interested look on his face. A few curls fell onto his forehead as he studied you. You tried to keep talking as his gaze was unwavering.

“Sounds right to me,” he said, his face dangerously close to yours as he also leaned his arm on the back.

“I honestly wouldn’t know,” you whispered. “Were you even looking at the book to make sure I was right?” You teased.

“I had something else I had to look at,” he said at the same volume.

You felt him lean in as you did the same. You could feel his breath fan over your lips as your hand rested on his knee.

Three solid knocks sent you flying away from each other.

Shawn cursed under his break as he stood up and swung the door open quickly.

“What?” He said to the kid in front of him, who was significantly shorter than Shawn.

“Kevin knocked over the-“ he paused as he saw you watching from across the room. “Oh, sorry, Shawn, I didn’t realize you had a girl over.”

You choked on your sip of tea as Shawn shoved the kid out the door and slammed the door behind him.

You pulled yourself together as you could hear Shawn’s muffled voice through the paper-thin walls.

“Why the fuck would you say that with her right there?” He said.

“I didn’t know! I would’ve gotten the RA on duty if I knew you were on a date,” the kid yelled back.

You could hear Shawn huff and could imagine him tugging at his hair.

“It’s nothing, Cade. It’s literally nothing at all,” Shawn said quickly. Your stomach dropped.

“It didn’t look like nothing,” the kid - Cade - teased back.

“Just tell me what’s going on, so I can study, which is the only thing we were doing,” he trailed off as you could hear the two of them walking down the hall.

You tried not to let yourself get too disappointed as you half packed up some of your stuff, not wanting to overstay your welcome if he didn’t see anything here. You felt yourself begin to overthink, wondering what would’ve happened if he kissed you. If he just wanted something quick before break, a finale to your semester together in class.

You waited patiently, your chin resting on your knees as you tried to look at the study guide with no luck.

The door swung open once again as Shawn came back. He shut the door behind him, running his hands through his hair as he looked over at you, noticing nothing but your study guide sitting out. He felt his stomach drop but didn’t say anything.

“Ok, where were we?” He said as he sat down again, dangerously close as his thigh grazed across yours.

Your breath hitched as he looked over at the study guide in your lap, looking at your one newly highlighted point.

You looked up at him as he asked you a question on the point. It was obvious he was looking at your lips.

You tried to answer the question and steady your shaky voice, but he leaned closer. Before his lips had the chance to press against yours, you rested your hand against his chest.

“Shawn…” you trailed off. “I can’t.”

“I’m so sorry,” he quickly said. “I didn’t - I thought - I’m sorry, I thought there was…” he trailed off as he tried to motion between the two of you as he leaned back.

“I just,” you paused as you let out a breath. “I really don’t want to be a one-night thing before you go back home.”

“Why would you think that?” He asked, an upset look clearly on his face.

“It’s nothing. It’s literally nothing at all,” you quoted him as you played with the edge of the study guide.

He looked at you confused as you looked down at the page, trying to distract yourself.

“Why would you say that? I don’t think this is just nothing,” he said.

“Shawn, these walls are paper-thin,” you snapped as you looked up at him. “I heard you telling the kid that this was nothing, and I don’t want nothing. So I’m stopping it here.”

He rubbed his forehead softly as you tucked your study guide into your binder, opening your backpack to put it away.

“I’m not going to tell one of my residents that he just interrupted something,” Shawn said quickly. “They’re my residents. I’m not about to tell them about my love life. I didn’t know you’d hear that. I swear I don’t think this is just nothing. I just don’t want them to know that stuff about me. There’s no reason to. I’m so sorry if it came off as any other way.”

You watched him continue to get flustered as he stayed relatively close to you, his hand almost hitting your shoulder as he spoke.

“I’ve been crazy about you since the beginning of the semester. I don’t just want to kiss you and forget,” he explained, leaning close to you again.

“Really?” You asked softly.

He smiled back at you, his hand almost resting against your shoulder as he draped it against the back of the futon.

“Really,” he replied.

This time when he leaned in, you let him kiss you. His hand enveloped the side of your face as you rested your hands gently on his chest. He tugged on your hip, and you followed his lead as you climbed onto his lap, smiling into the kiss as his hands stayed planted on your hips, gripping into your sides.

You pulled back before pecking his lips once more, leaning your forehead against his so you could see his big smile.

You glanced outside to see the snow getting worse as you let out a sigh.

“I should get going,” you whispered.

“But it’s a blizzard out there,” he mumbled as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “And you don’t have a coat.” Another kiss at the corner of your lips. “Just stay,” he whispered as his lips met yours again.

“I don’t want to get us in trouble,” you whisper back.

“I know the RA. Don’t worry about it. I can pull some strings if he finds out,” he said with a cocky smile as you rolled your eyes, leaning in again.

“Won’t the residents know?” You mumbled against his lips.

“Let ‘em talk,” he said as his hand rubbed up your side, sending shivers across your body. “I won’t see them for over a month anyway.”

“Well, as long as the RA doesn’t find out, I think maybe I can stay,” you whispered as Shawn flipped you over so your back pressed against the futon and he hovered above you.  

“I’ll make sure he never finds out.”

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Taglist (send me an ASK to be added, crossed out if tag doesn’t work):

@avaastra @pupsandducks​ @all-i-want-is2b-loved-by-you​ @5-seconds-of-mendes​ @imsuperawkward​ @futuremrspcy​ @mariamuses​ @turtoix​ @fallinallincurls​ @c25905 @under-a-canyon-moon​ @havethetimeeofyourlifee​ @nervousmendes​ @feliciaceciliamariajacobsson​ @haute-shawn @mendesficsxbombay​ @shawnsreputation​ @sarcasticallywitty15​

[joon-ipersgirl]

O6 - “the jaded jessica rabbit”

genre: mafia!au, angst, fluff, slow burn, mystery-thriller

pairing: namjoon x reader (f)

word count: 3.8k

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol, some vulgar-is dirty talk at the end (not the way you think lol)

summary: charismatic. beautiful. fearless without question. the ambitious team of seven young men in charge of spiral, downtown district’s hottest new club, go above and beyond to provide 100% satisfaction to their clients.

after an eventful night out, you have no choice but to join the team for property damages greater than your intern salary. challenging a series of events that can no longer be left to coincidence, secrets threaten to burst at the seams as your professional and private life collide, and another - more sinister - debt is added to your total. 

how far are you willing to go to pay back your pound of flesh? remember, nothing is ever as it seems...

a/n: hello everyone! wow, i received some really nice comments about this fic so thank you. like seriously. i’ll keep you guys posted on discontinuing or not. i only have a few more parts pre-written so i may just post those and decide after. either way, i hope you enjoy. this was fun to write :) leave me an ask and let me know what you think and any theories as to what you think the boys are up to!

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Staring at yourself in the full length mirror in your room, you conclude you look crazy. How Suga had approved this uniform is beyond you, especially as winter hasn’t let you out of her cold, damp grip. You adjusted the waist of your skirt again as you try your best to make sure your ass isn’t hanging out the bottom. At least the neckline of the t-shirt is high enough that all of your assets aren’t on display. You guess you could appreciate how nice your legs look in the sheer black stockings you’d paired with the look.

You try your best to fit the vibe Spiral is going for and keep your makeup fairly neutral except for the bright red matte lipstick across your lips. Your hair was swept into a slick low bun, a few tendrils left out to frame your face. Though it probably isn’t part of the vibe, you throw on your chunky gold hoops to add some personality. Honcho could kiss your pretty little ass if he didn’t like it.

A soft meow! broke you out of your inner monologue. “Rosalia!” you coo at your shared Russian Blue cat. She saunters into the room and makes herself comfortable on your Queen-sized bed. “Don’t wait up,” you tell her as you grab your small backpack and trusty black, wool overcoat. It was time to head to Spiral.

“This must be the new spot for the young folk, huh?” your Uber driver, George, asks as he pulls onto the interstate. He’s an older man that could have probably been your grandfather. You pay him no mind. Maybe he would get the hint that you weren’t interested in having a conversation if you barely respond.

“Hmm?”

“You’re the third young woman I’ve picked up to head there tonight,” he explains. You look up at him quickly through the rearview mirror.

“Oh really?” you ask absentmindedly. George nods, his cap looking to flop off of his head.

“Oh yeah. They were so excited about it being back open since it got closed down for that robbery they had 2 months ago, though I don’t know if those young boys can handle running an establishment like that,” he mutters.

“Why do you think that?”

“They aren’t paying their respects to the elders in the business. Respect will go a long way you know?” he adds as he exits off the highway and heads towards the “party” area of downtown. You sit up, intrigued by what he’s saying.

“Respect to the elders? In the business? What do you mean?” you inquire again.

“You can’t just pop up on someone else’s territory without explaining what you’re doing there, even if it was an order for expansion,” he explains. You glance out of the window; you were close to the club. Time is running out.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean, sir.”

“Of course you do, young lady.” George smiles at you through the mirror as you stare at him confused. “Robberies of that sort don’t just happen outta nowhere,” he elaborates, his words seeming to take on another meaning. You open your mouth to respond, but he cuts you off with a whistle.

“Wow, it didn’t look like that when I was just here.”

You turn to look out the window and your eyes widen as you take in the line, the neon red sign brightly illuminating the street. It wraps around the corner of the club and extends down the street past where your eyes could see. Numerous patrons are huddled together to stay warm as they brave the chilly wind. It’s only 9pm and the club doesn’t officially open until 10pm. Had news of the re-opening spread so quickly?

George pulls up to the curb. “You be safe now, miss,” he says pointedly, turning in his seat to deliver his seemingly innocent warning.

“You too. Have a good night,” you tell him as you step out of the car and he tips his hat in response. The conversation leaves you uneasy as he pulls away and you’re left on the corner of the street looking very much so like the woman of the night you feel in your uniform. You don’t stand for too long as the icy wind slashes across your legs, forcing you to head inside.

You approach the front of the line, much to the groans and protests of the people at the front. You ignore them. No one had told them to arrive at least an hour early and subject themself to this kind of torture for a few measly drinks and to rub up and down on another equally sad individual.

“Y/N!” Jack calls out to you from the front door of the club. He looks good in his own large bomber jacket, black skull beanie pulled low over his dark brown hair and the tips of his ears. Though he’s the size of any pro NFL quarterback, you could only see him as a rugged teddy bear when he grins at you like that.

“Jack,” you greet him with a soft smirk of your own. “How are you?”

“Good. Cold, but good. Ready for tonight?” he asks cheerily.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you said, chuckling. He smiles at you again and holds the door open.

You duck under his arm and slip off your coat as you head down the stairs. Spiral looks incredible after the renovation and you’re surprised at how well everything flowed together; Min might actually know a thing or two about interior design. The new, red neon lights along the floors and the ceiling add to the ambience and the sleek black marble furniture fits in well with the leather booths.

Standing around the bar where the rest of your coworkers in their uniforms. Jin, Luca, and Moon are setting up behind the bar, the three of them looking like the city versions of Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades. Not necessarily in that order though; Luca would definitely be Hades. Honcho and Suga chat quietly to one another while Savannah prattles on with Tae, her arms moving wildly as she explains whatever story she’s so into. Jeon and Micah are tucked on the other side of the bar, a comfortable silence settling between them. Giselle sits alone on a bar stool as she scrolls on her phone completely oblivious to her surroundings.

“Good evening Y/N. So nice of you to grace us with your presence,” Moon remarks. You ignore the way his eyes flit across your body as you approach the bar.

“Finally Kid. We’ve been waiting,” Suga calls from where he stands, his mint hair falling into his eyes.

“You guys act like I was 45 minutes late or something. What’s going on?” you asks.

“Did you go clock in?” Honcho asks, ignoring your question. You shake your head. “Do that, put your stuff away, and then come back here. We’re having a staff meeting.”

You nod and set off towards the employee lounge. It’s a fairly small room with some lockers available to store your things as well as a miniscule refrigerator to store some snacks as you wouldn’t be leaving until at least 3am. You carefully fold your coat as best as you can before shoving it into one of the lockers and shutting it closed.

The cold metal of the lockers presses into your back as you lean against it for support. It’s finally hitting you that you’re back at Spiral. Where you shot a gun. Where you shot a man. Where you got shot at. You look at the slight burn that’s on your upper forearm. You let out a shaky breath. Fear couldn’t get the best of you now. You had work to do, clues to discover, and a man to find before he found you first.

“Took you long enough!” Honcho calls out as you perch on the edge of the bar stool. A roll of your eyes is your only response. “Great. Everyone’s here. It’s opening night and the line is wrapped around the building. People still want to experience us, and experience us they shall. You all have your positions. Do your job well, and we shouldn’t have any issues. Anything else to add?” Honcho turns to Moon.

“Be engaging and if there are any issues, find myself or Honcho. Only.” Moon directed his last comment to you. “Suga?”

“Don’t fuck up,” Suga says with a shrug and the room erupts in laughter. “Let’s have a good night.”

The meeting is dismissed as Suga heads up to his office and you use the last 20 minutes to do the last of the prep of our stations. Tae has started spinning tunes from his booth as you vibe out. Jin and Luca are tending to the downstairs bar while Moon heads up to the VIP lounge. You and Giselle are tasked with serving tables on the main level, Savannah and Micah on the second. Jeon had left to man the main door with Jack. Everything is set.

You peek at Jin as you secure the little black fanny pack with the notepad and pen to take orders around your waist. Your conversation from earlier in the week flits across your mind and you narrow your eyes in determination; it was time to get to work.

“Here!” Giselle calls over the increasingly loud music. “It’s tequila!” She pushes the shot into your hand. You can hear the chatter of people starting to enter the establishment faintly. You toss the shot back and she grins. It was definitely time to get to work.

“I need a strawberry daiquiri, a lemon drop, a mango margarita, and a blue hawaiian!” you yell to Luca as you lean over the bar, waving the ticket in your hand to try and grab his attention. He serves his customer at the bar before grabbing the ticket from you.

“It’s fucking crazy in here!” he yells back. You nod and look out into the crowd.

Spiral hadn’t been open a full hour and a half, but it was like there was no room to walk. Talk about packed. The air is thick with heat and hormones as people dance in the middle of the floor, bodies swaying sloppily from the amount of alcohol they’d already consumed. You’re grateful you’d decided to tie your hair back because Gods knew how it would look after your shift was over. The demand for drinks hadn’t slowed down once, putting your personal mission on hold.

“Order up!” Luca calls and shoves the drinks over to you on a tray. You huff as you balance it in both hands and head back through the crowd.

As you approach your table, your mood sours. Instead of there being four girls sitting in the booth, a fifth has arrived. Your favorite crime scene investigator. Her hair hangs down around her shoulders in loose waves instead of the tight ponytail it was in when you first saw her. Her white off the shoulder dress clings tight to her body as she rests on the edge of the booth, her legs crossed. You set the tray down a little harder than needed as the rest of her friends jump.

“Oh. It’s you,” she says in disdain. You ignore her as you set their drinks down in front of them.

“Hi, my name is Y/N and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with anything or would you care to see the menu?” you ask, giving her the usual speech. She looks bored as you stand there waiting.

“Hmm, nothing that you can give me. Have you seen Moon? I need to speak with him,” she says.

“He’s working in VIP. I’m not sure if you have the clearance to be up there,” you say with a smile. She glares at you.

“You barely have the clearance to work here,” she spits. Just as you’re going to respond, you feel a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N, why don’t you go on break? Jennifer, so nice to see you again. Shall we?” It’s Honcho. If you weren’t so angry, you would have been frightened at his ability to move so swiftly in a crowded room.

Jennifer, in all her raggedy glory, brushes past you with a smirk. You barely resist the urge to drag her back by her half-assed waves and pummel her smug face into the pretty black, marble table. Watching her saunter up the spiral staircase makes your blood boil. Who did she think she was? You excuse yourself from your patrons once you make sure they no longer need you and head for the restroom. If the boss says it was time for a break, who were you to oppose? It was time to figure some things out.

“Y/N!” Jin’s voice is barely audible over the blaring bass Tae is blasting. You roll your eyes.

“I’m on break!” you yell to him as he beckons you over.

“I need you to do me a favor!” he shouts as you approach his side of the bar, Luca hurriedly making drinks on the other.

“I need you to stop lying to me, but I guess we all can’t get what we want,” you say with a shrug and turn away.

“Y/N, please. Honcho hasn’t come back down for this order. Can you run it upstairs for me? I’d do it myself, but -” He gestures to the people surrounding the bar waiting for his attention.

“I told you, I’m on break,” you emphasize.

“Please,” he asks once again, resting his hand on top of the bar. You glare at him.

“Fine, but you owe me,” you say pointedly. He flashes you a beautiful smile before setting the tray filled with a glass of white wine, a pint of beer, and a whiskey sour.

“You’re the best!” he calls as you heft the tray onto your shoulder and make your way to the stairs.

The second level is less crowded than downstairs, but all the booths are occupied with men in luxurious suits and their companions dressed in their finest dresses. It reeks of expensive perfumes and stuffy cigars. Some of the velvet curtains are drawn and you didn’t want to know what could possibly be happening behind them. Honcho is nowhere to be seen and you grow impatient as the tray’s weight settles into your arms. This was becoming tiring.

“Hey Y/N! How’s it going? Do you need some help?” Savannah chirps as she ducks through one of the closed curtain booths, her blonde hair a little disheveled. Interesting. Definitely didn’t want to know what kind of sunshine service she was providing.

“Uh, yeah. Have you seen Honcho? These are his drinks,” you say gesturing to the tray in your hands.

“Hmm, not for the past few minutes. Maybe he’s in the back?” She points to the hallway leading to the third level. You sigh. You’d been sent on a wild goose chase.

“Alright. Thanks.”

You dodge a drunk woman who seemed dangerously close to breaking a heel, the pint of beer sloshing over the side and soaking the front of your shirt. You clench your jaw in anger. Slamming the tray down angrily on one of the high tables, a few of the customers jump at the noise. You know your smile is not friendly by the way they lower their heads and avoid your gaze as you march past. At this point, you were taking an additional half an hour break; they owed you.  

The bathroom on the second level is empty as you try to wipe the stench of beer from your shirt. Your first night and you’re already fed up with Miss Fake Jessica Rabbit, Jin and his favors, and the spilled drinks. In fact, you’re highly irritated. You’re ready to go home. Giving up trying to salvage your shirt and resigning to smelling like beer for the next 2 and a half hours, you head to exit the restroom, but stop when you glimpse the back of Jessica Rabbit herself.

“I don’t know, Moon. It’s not looking too good on our end.” You tuck back behind the door, leaving it slightly ajar to hear what they’re saying. Thank Gods for the acoustics of this hallway.

“Didn’t this case just get planned?” he asks. “Vance was supposed to secure this contract for us after we were down for those couple of weeks. What happened?”

“I don’t know. Things have been a little busy with Julian going haywire. I haven’t seen Vance in two weeks. Someone mentioned something about reputations and what not -”

“We just started this operation. We barely have a reputation, Jen,” he emphasizes. “But we’ve been damn good at what we do, so I’m not understanding what the issue is.”

“What are we not understanding?” You almost stumble back as Min passes the restroom but catch the door with your fingers before it can slam shut. You exhale slowly as you recover, peering through the small slit of the door again.

“We just lost the Fader contract,” Moon tells him.

“Wait, wasn’t that supposed to come out tomorrow? I thought we had it secured before it was set to be released.”

“So did I, but Jen said Vance couldn’t pull through. Something about reputations -”

“Reputations? If anything, we should be getting great reviews; I’ve been quick and effective with every job you’ve sent me on. So much so, we couldn’t take on all the clients because of demand.” You can hear the confusion in Min’s voice even with the music still thumping. “What changed? How is that affecting our operations?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Jen replies. “This is bad for business which is in turn bad for me.”

“There has to be something we’re missing. Min, do you think you could contact Santi-”

“Have y’all seen Y/N? She’s not on the floor and Savannah said she was looking for me,” Honcho’s voice rings out and you squeak, letting the door slam shut, effectively cutting off the sound of their conversation. Shit. You duck behind the partitioning wall and try to calm your breathing as someone knocks on the door.

“Is everything okay in here?” It’s Honcho.

“Everything’s great! Just slipped on some water and fell, but I’m good!” you call to him, cringing at your lie.

“Y/N? What the fuck are you doing up here?”

“I work here. What do you mean by what am I doing up here? I was trying to find you so I could give you your fucking tray with your drinks, but you were nowhere to be found,” you reply with just as much attitude, finally appearing around the corner and facing him. He looks at you confused as you stare him down.

“I was busy with a -- customer. Come on, you have work to do,” he says while grabbing your wrist.

“And you don’t?” you retort as he pulls you into the hallway where Min, Jennifer, and Moon are still standing. They look surprised to see you.

“Kitten!” Min exclaims as you approach them. “How’s your shift going?”

You shrug. “It’s going.”

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to work?” Jennifer asks rudely. You can just make out the frown on her face under the low lighting of the side hallway.

“Shouldn’t you have chosen a better outfit to solicit on a corner?” Honcho snorts and she glares at both of you.

“Kitten is feeling a little fiesty today,” Min hums, leaning against the wall.

“Y/N, you can’t say that to customers,” Moon chides you though you can tell from the faint showing of his dimples he’s amused at your words. You raise your eyebrows at him.

“Hmm, I guess it wasn’t dirty enough for good ol’ Jen, huh? How about on your knees in the back of the alley behind Spiral?” you offer. “Maybe you’ll get off if he reprimands you the way he’s trying to do me,” you ponder.

Jennifer’s face is red with anger as she continuously opens and closes her mouth to respond. You smirk as your own anger and irritation settles in your belly, happy that you’d gotten under her skin. Apparently too well as she rears her hand back and slaps me across your face. Tears spring to your eyes from the force of the blow and you blink at Honcho as you slowly comprehend what’s happened. She had well and truly slapped you. You whip your head around to face her and she gasps as she had now just realized what she’d done.

“Holy shit,” Honcho whispers. You grin as you step forward to stand in front of her, holding your ground. You were tired of her shit.

“Is that the way you like it, Jen? Hard slaps to the face?” you goad. “What about your pretty little ass, hmm?”

“Y/N, stop. That’s not necessary.” Moon steps in front of you, blocking your view of an almost teary eyed Jennifer. Ah, an angry crier. Your favorite.

“Oh come on, Moon. It’s just a little teasing, isn’t it? Just like how you all do to me. No harm, no foul,” you say nonchalantly, but your words have a sharper tone. The irritation of the night was getting to you.

“Y/N, let’s go downstairs,” Honcho says as he tugs on your wrist, trying to diffuse the situation. “Give everyone some time to cool off.”

“I am cool. I’m not going to hit her and ruin my chances of filing an assault claim,” you say with a chuckle. “You guys wouldn’t even have to testify against your little friend. The cameras will witness for me. And I can walk by myself, thanks. Continue whatever business you guys had going on,” you reply with a wave of your hand.

“An assault case! Are you crazy?! Bitch, fuck you!” Jennifer calls from around Moon’s large frame. You roll your eyes as you spin around to face them again.

“I’m as crazy as they come, babe. Pencil me in once you're done with your lover boy and I’ll let you know if I can squeeze you in with the rest of my appointments! Business is booming as they say!” you yell back and blow her a kiss. She scowls.

The four of them watch you go and you only rub your stinging cheek once you know you’re out of their eyesight. For a small woman, she had a heavy hand and you’re grateful it hadn’t been a punch; you couldn’t afford a trip to the dentist. It was time for you to cash in on that favor Jin promised you as you head down the spiral stairs. An old fashioned on the rocks is calling your name. You could use the ice.

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[camillemontespan]

her one constant [part six: the beautiful and damned] [drake the bodyguard AU]

Last chapter if you want to catch up

After my readers poll about where to take this chapter, results showed more sway towards my ‘secret’ option. So, here it is. I’ll be honest, the ‘secret’ option turned out a bit differently than I meant and I did struggle with this chapter for a while. But I’ve edited and edited, hopefully you will like this. 

I am following some canon but also there are twists within this series so timelines don’t add up. 

@jovialyouthmusic​ @ibldw-main​ @pug-bitch​ @marshmallowsandfire​ @marshmallowsaremyfavorite​ @princessleac1​ @notoriouscs​ @kimmiedoo5​ @burnsoslow​ @moonlightgem7​ @katedrakeohd​ @rainbowsinthestorm​ @pedudley​ @saivilo​ @gardeningourmet​ @kingliam2019​

******************************************************

Drake’s fingers raked through Camille’s loose hair, holding her close as he kissed her hard. Their tongues twisted and swirled, eliciting a deep groan from Drake’s throat and Camille smiling against his lips. She smelled of coconut and summer. Paradise. This was paradise.

He rolled her over so he was now suspended above her body. He rested his weight on his arms that were placed on either side of her head and he kissed her hungrily. He was mad for her. 

Camille’s hands reached out to unbutton his shirt. She pulled it off eagerly, breaking away from his lips to kiss his exposed chest instead. Drake closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of her lips brushing his skin, committing this moment to memory. 

His fingers pulled down the skinny straps of her silk dress, unveiling her cleavage that heaved above her balconette bra. Drake let out a growl and kissed her cleavage, his tongue darting out to lick her in a moment of sheer abandon. Camille groaned his name; a sound he had always wanted to hear on her lips. 

Her fingers ran down his torso, delicately running along the skin above his belt. Drake let out a hiss. Camille hastened to unbuckle his belt. As her fingers rushed to unbuckle it, Drake closed his eyes again and felt his heart begin to race and the thoughts in his mind run wild with abandon.

You are her bodyguard. Right now, you are no better than Lou or Micah. Fucking her like the other bodyguards fuck their Duchesses is not how this is supposed to go. No, you’re supposed to protect her and give your life for her if necessary. You love her. Fucking act like it.

Drake’s eyes flashed open as he realised the magnitude of this.

‘Camille, stop,’ he rasped out. 

Camille stopped pulling down his trousers and looked up into his eyes. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, her voice already laced with disappointment.

Drake exhaled and rolled off her, lying down beside her.

‘We need to slow down,’ he finally said, pushing his hands through his hair. ‘I’m sorry. I really, really want to do this but at the same time..’

‘Your job,’ Camille said matter of factly.

Drake sighed. ‘Yeah. My job.’

Camille sat up and settled against the cushions. She pulled the straps of her dress back up and cleared her throat. ‘I overstepped,’ she said. ‘I should treat you like the other Duchesses treat their bodyguards, I suppose.’

Drake’s jaw set. Camille sounded so defeated; Drake hated that. He didn’t want her to treat him like he was her regular bodyguard but he knew he couldn’t have it both ways. 

Before he could agree with her, Camille spoke, her voice stronger now. ‘Except I don’t want to do that,’ she told him. ‘I like having inside jokes with you. I like talking to you. In this crazy world I’ve found myself in, you are the one normal person inside it. You allow me to be normal. You treat me like I’m still Camille - not a Duchess.’

‘Thing is,’ Drake said quietly, ‘you are a Duchess. You have to realise that we’re not the same. Not anymore. In terms of social standing and hierarchy, I am on the bottom rung. If you pursued something with me, you would be dragged through the mud. The media would torment you. The public would criticise you. The crown wouldn’t support you. Right now, you should be kissing a noble like Maxwell or Liam. That’s the people you should be mixing with. I’m not noble. I’m not rich. I’m not the same as you, Camille, and I’m definitely not the same as those guys.’

Camille’s eyes flashed. Drake saw the fire build and she rolled on her side to face him so their noses were mere inches apart. Her eyes bore into his and Drake was unable to look away from the fire.

‘We are the same,’ she said. ‘We have the same humour. Same thoughts. Same values. Drake, just because you serve a noble does not lessen your worth. Just because you’re not like Maxwell or Liam doesn’t mean you’re lesser than them. You know what I think whenever we’re in a ballroom together?’

‘What?’ he asked.

‘I think how compared to all the noblemen in the room, you are the one I want to dance with. And I know you work for me and you’re supposed to stand in the corner of the room and not take part but I always wish I was dancing with you instead.’ 

Drake swallowed. Hearing her be so honest was an addictive sort of torture. Her words caused him pain but also so much joy. 

‘I can’t dance,’ he said quietly. ‘Terrible at it.’

Camille studied him for a long moment before she got up from the bed and stood in her silk dress, holding her hand out to him. The low light of her lampshade cast her in a bronze glow and her hair was tousled from Drake’s hands.

‘Dance with me,’ she said softly.

Drake sighed. ‘I said we should slow down-’

‘I know,’ Camille interrupted. ‘And tomorrow, we can slow down all we want and just be our usual selves, sitting in the back of the car wishing we could hold hands. I know you feel it because I feel it too. Tomorrow, we will continue our teasing and our discreet flirting and you will continue to call me by my first name. You will protect me from intrusive photographers and keep me safe. I will treat you like I always do, like you are my friend as well as my bodyguard. But tonight, I want to dance with you. I want to forget that you are my bodyguard and I am the Duchess of Valtoria. Please.’

There was a heavy, loaded silence. She continued to stare at him with her hand out, not giving up. Drake pulled himself up and buttoned his shirt. Now that he was fully dressed, he got off the bed and moved towards her. Her eyes followed him, unable to tear her gaze away. He was so handsome. So strong. So kind.

‘We don’t have music,’ Drake said. 

Camille shrugged. ‘We don’t need music.’

She reached up to place her hand on his left shoulder and took his right hand. Drake slowly pulled her closer, as if they were magnets. His hand ran down her back to rest above her tailbone. He was reminded that Leo had done this with Camille when they had danced together and wished he hadn’t done the same thing. He moved his hand to rest on her upper back, awkward but respectful. 

Camille reached behind her to pull his hand back down to her tailbone.

‘Dance with me,’ she said again, her voice low. ‘Dance how you want to dance.’

‘But I can’t dance.’

Camille rolled her eyes. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘Just go with it.’

Drake rolled his eyes lightheartedly. He kept his hand on her tailbone and made his first step, moving her backward. 

'See, you can dance,' Camille said softly. 'We should get you on Dancing with the Stars.' 

Drake chuckled. 'I bet I'd get tens across the board!' 

Camille smiled, her eyes sparkling. Drake took a chance by twirling her. Camille giggled and twirled, her hair billowing around her shoulders. 

She moved closer and rested her head against his chest. Drake slowed the dance down so they simply swayed on the spot. He rested his chin on top of her head, closing his eyes as he appreciated this moment. 

Professionalism was out of the window. But the thing that stopped Drake from opening his eyes and leaning down to kiss Camille was her reputation. She was a Duchess. To be seen in a public relationship with her bodyguard would have her ripped to shreds. She already had a rough start at court; Drake didn’t want to make it worse. 

But it was moments like this, these moments in between, that Drake savoured. Because here, he was just a man dancing with a woman he was in love with. 

The dance slowed to a stop. Camille looked up at him, her eyes searching his. Drake's hand still rested on her tailbone. 

'Thank you for dancing with me,' she whispered. 

Drake squeezed her hand. 'Happy to do it.' 

They broke apart. Drake cleared his throat and gave her a weak smile. 'I'll let you get to bed,' he said. 

Camille nodded. ‘See you tomorrow.’

Tomorrow. Where they would be normal again.

*************************

The following evening, another ball. 

Drake spent the night standing by the wall with Lou, Micah and Thomas, Penelope's bodyguard. It seemed like their little group was growing with each social event, much to Drake’s dismay. He didn’t want to be part of a group. 

Camille was dancing with Liam. Drake watched her, glad she wasn’t dancing with Leo. Leo was absent this evening; he was probably fucking a maid.

As Camille and Liam danced past Drake, she looked at her bodyguard over Liam's shoulder. As she met Drake’s gaze, she crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue, a completely un-Camille like expression that made Drake let out a surprised laugh. 

Lou looked from Camille to Drake. 'Aw man, you've really caught feelings, huh?' 

Drake sighed. 'Not engaging with you, Lou.' 

Micah sniggered and nudged Thomas in the ribs. 'Drake's got a thing for the Duchess of Valtoria,' he explained. 'Yet to seal the deal.' 

Thomas chuckled. 'Better get on that, Drake or you'll miss your shot.' 

Drake pressed his lips together. So, it seemed EVERY bodyguard was fucking their Duchess. Jesus. Everyone except Drake. 

Drake couldn't bear the idea of a meaningless night with Camille.

Camille Montespan deserved candlelight dinners. She deserved a bouquet of lilies - her favourite flower- for random reasons. She deserved breakfast in bed every Sunday. She deserved love and happiness. 

Drake only hoped that the guy she would end up with would treat her the way she deserved. If not, he would kill the bastard.

************************

Applewood was next on the agenda for Camille. King Liam was determined to win public affection and change their opinions about the monarchy following Constantine’s death.  His father had been a tyrant and had tainted their line with his legacy. Liam refused to stand for that. 

‘God, I have to plant an apple tree,’ Camille said to Drake as they were driven to Applewood for the weekend. ‘What if I fuck it up?’

Drake chuckled. ‘How can you fuck it up?’

Camille’s eyes widened as she answered him quickly. ‘I could make the hole in the dirt too shallow, I could water it too much and it will die, I could drop it-’

‘Camille, breathe,’ Drake said softly. ‘You are able to plant an apple tree. It’s not hard. You can do this.’

‘But-’

‘No buts,’ Drake interrupted. ‘Believe in yourself. You got this.’

Camille let out a breath, closing her eyes as she tried to push down her anxiety. Drake reached out to take her hand. ‘It’ll be a good weekend for you,’ he whispered. ‘Relax and try to enjoy yourself.’

***********************************

The tree planting went perfectly. Camille smiled at the adoring public who were excited to meet the new Duchess of Valtoria while Liam gave a speech about how happy he was to be there. 

Camille planted the tree to the sound of applause and flashing cameras. She and Liam posed for a photograph before the court made their way to Applewood Manor. 

Drake kept close to Camille as they walked through the courtyard of the manor. ‘See?’ Drake murmured in her ear. ‘You did great.’

Camille smiled, relieved it was over. 

They reached her room and as per their routine, Drake checked the windows to ensure they were locked and he looked in the cupboards and bathroom. 

‘All clear,’ he said. ‘You can sleep safely. I’m down the hall, so I’ll be close if you need anything.’

Camille gave him a thumbs up, a dorky cute gesture that made Drake’s heart skip. But he pushed it down.  

**********************************

That night, Drake settled down in the armchair to enjoy a glass of whiskey. He looked out through the window, surveying the view of the courtyard. For a moment, he pretended that this manor was his and this was his bedroom. This was his whiskey and this was his armchair. He was Lord of the Manor. 

Except he didn’t want to be a noble so scratch that. 

As usual, in his quiet moments, his thoughts moved to Camille. 

He wondered what she was doing right now. Probably in bed reading. Camille loved to read and was always giving Drake impromptu book reviews during long car journeys. Right now, she was reading The Beautiful and Damned by F Scott Fitzgerald and she was on at Drake to read it too.

‘We could start a book club!’ she had suggested enthusiastically a few weeks ago. Drake had laughed and said he didn’t read books like that. Thrillers and conspiracy theories were more his scene. So, Camille said that they could read those books too and exchange notes. Did he like The Da Vinci Code? 

Drake had said he would get back to her.

Now, he wished she was beside him, telling him all about The Beautiful and Damned. That would be nice; Camille reading to him her favourite passages while he drank whiskey. Maybe they could start a Book & Whiskey Club?! Drake made a mental note to suggest this to her in the morning.

A spine tingling scream echoed down the corridor. 

Drake recognised it was Camille.

He bolted up from his chair, knocking over his glass of whiskey, but he didn’t care. He threw his door open and ran down the corridor, getting to Camille’s door in an instant. 

‘Stop it!’ she screamed. 

Fury filled Drake’s heart. Without hesitation, he kicked the door in to find Camille in the arms of a noble that Drake didn’t know. Both of them were staring at Drake who stood in the threshold, changed from the calm and whiskey drinking man he had been just moments before. Drake’s body filled the entire door frame. His eyes were wild as he made a quick study of Camille. Her face was streaked with tears and even worse, she was in her underwear. The man was gripping hold of her arms, his fingers pressing hard into her skin. 

Drake barreled into the room, white rage filling his senses, as he shouted, ‘Get your hands off of her!’

As his fist connected with the man’s face and continued to connect hard, Drake felt a mixture of rage and guilt. Intense guilt. 

Because Drake himself had checked the room. He had declared it safe for Camille to sleep in. So how had this man gotten in and how had Drake managed to put her in harms way?

[thesmalltowngal]

Snowbaz 12- A Sticky Note A Day...

Otp Prompt #12: Simon proposes to Baz with a sticky note a day in his favorite book… (Post-canon) (Baz’s POV)

Starts slow at first, but the ending is the fluffiest thing I’ve probably ever written. Enjoy!

My therapist gave me a book to read. I fought with Simon long and hard about going to see a therapist, but at the end of the day, I decided he might be right. So I went to see one (a magickal one that was bloody hard to track down) and it turns out that she actually helped. Of course, sometimes she’s just fucking wrong in her analysis. One time she said I may have ‘self destructive tendencies’. Who gave her the bloody right? When she said that, I promptly hung up on her and didn’t talk to her for a month, slipping into a depression. Then I decided that she might be right, so Simon made me call and apologize.

But I’m getting off track. Today, my therapist gave me a book called Simon Vs. The Homosapiens Agenda. A book about a closeted gay kid or some shit. So now I’m back in Penny and Simon’s flat trying to get myself into the reading mood. (Simon is the only other one here. Penny barely likes to be in the room with the both of us because she says we’re too cuddly. A fucking hypocrite is what she is. Her and that Micah guy never keep their hands off of each other when he comes to visit). (Simon comes to stay at my flat when that happens, so I don’t complain much). Simon is sitting on the sofa watching me. As if it wasn’t bloody hard enough to start reading- then add Simon’s eyes and his hair to the mix and it’s nearly fucking impossible. 

“Baz, what’s wrong?” He furrows his brow and moves to stand in front of me. On instinct, I start to sneer at him, but then I realize that I don’t have to anymore. Because Simon Snow is mine. Voluntarily. I don’t have to keep that wall up anymore. That’s another thing my therapist and I talk about a lot; Simon. She once told me that I had to limit myself to no more than ten minutes talking about him, because I’d never shut up about the fact that he was finally with me. (I don’t usually follow that rule).

“Oh nothing, Love. Just having a hard time getting into this bloody book.”

“But you love reading! It’s your favorite thing, other than me,” He flashes me a toothy grin and I can’t help but grin back. His stupid beautiful smile is infectious. “So what’s holding you back?”

“I suppose I’m in a bit of a reading rut. I can’t find a book that grasps my attention for that long.” He thinks for a moment, biting at his bottom lip. His wings are starting to show, but I don’t dare tell him that. I quite like them. When we’re sleeping (because we sleep together now. Simon Snow and I. In the same bed. Willingly), he wraps them around the both of us and it’s like we’re in our own safe little cocoon. As he thinks, his tail whips all around. (Crowley, I love his tail. He figured out how to control it a year ago and now he never stops touching me with it. It’s my favorite). 

“Well then just read a chapter a day. That won’t be too hard, yeah? How many chapters is it?”

I flip through the book quickly before answering, “35. That’s about 34 days longer than it usually takes me to read a book…” 

He mumbles something incoherently to himself and I only catch the tail end of it. (He almost never realizes that he’s talking out loud). “...I can make that work…” Then after a pause, he continues, out loud for me to hear this time. “It’s alright, Baz. Just take your time. There’s no rush or anything. A chapter a day for 35 days. That way it won’t interfere with University.” I nod along without really realizing that I’m doing it. 35 days. Easy enough.

Day One

I read the first chapter of the book the next day (I might actually enjoy it), only to discover what Simon did with my book when he borrowed it from me last night. There’s a bright yellow sticky note at the very end of that chapter that reads: I’m so lucky to have found you. A grin so large it hurts my cheeks (I’m not used to smiling, but Simon makes my face hurt from it every day) starts taking over my face. Simon Snow, what have you got planned?

Day Two

Another note is at the end of the second chapter, this one even sweeter than the last. To think, we could’ve been in love all those years…

Day Five

Simon and I don’t talk about the notes. He doesn’t acknowledge writing them, and I don’t acknowledge receiving them- it seems like a secret just for me. But I try to convey the way I feel about them through little things like soft, slow kisses when he doesn’t expect them. At the end of the chapter today: You saved me. It’s funny how he thinks that I saved him when he saved me every bloody day of my life. And then literally saved me in a halo of fire in the forest. 

Day Ten

I’m starting to get really into the book, but I don’t want to read more than a chapter a day because I don’t want to skip a note. At the end of this one: Every day I fall a little more in love with you. Truth be told, I never took Simon to be such a romantic. But fuck if I’m not swept off my feet by now.

Day Twenty

I promise to love you until my very last breath… and the some. My heart swells with anticipation at the end of each page leading up to the end of the chapter. Truth be told, I’m very much liking this book. I can see why my therapist recommended it to me. 

Day Thirty

The notes that he’s leaving now are starting to sound like sentences. He’ll write a line and end it with a comma, and then the next day the sticky note will begin with ‘and’, and then finish the sentence. It’s quite poetic. Today’s note is: Whether it’s fighting side by side or just laying down together sleeping,

Day Thirty-One

… there’s no one else I’d rather be with.

Day Thirty-Two

I’ve started going back to earlier sticky notes and writing all of the lines together. It all is starting to sound like one long speech, but I can’t tell if it’s just because or if it’s leading up to something bigger. (Side note: This book is fucking awesome). You are the one.

Day Thirty-Three

The one that I want to adopt pets with, and the one I want to snog until you can’t feel anything anymore.

Day Thirty-Four

The one that I want to spend the rest of my life with. Simon has started acting strangely around me. It’s getting increasingly harder to not acknowledge the notes when it feels like they’re building up to something more. 

Day Thirty-Five

For the last thirty-four days, Simon hasn’t been around me when I’ve gotten to the end of the chapters in the book. But today as I near the end, he’s sitting across from me on the sofa, writing something out on a bright blue sticky note. When I finally reach the end of the last chapter (it’s a bloody brilliant book), I see one last pink sticky note in the back of the book. By now, you’ve strung everything together, I’m sure. So that just leaves one last thing to do. Baz Pitch… But that’s it. That’s the end of the sticky note. I shut the book and set it on the table beside me. When I look up at Simon, he’s down on one knee with a ring box open in his hand. My breath catches in my throat when I see the sticky note on his forehead. 

Will You Marry Me?

[ladyboltontoyou]

Arthur Morgan x Reader: Lessons in Oral

Ask: Can you please please please do an imagine that the gang finds out your a bit innocent and inexperienced, you’ve been with people but you just have little experience, they tease you for it and you get upset and take off, Arthur follows you to comfort you and you ask him if he can teach you how to please a man 😍💦

Warning: Cursing, blowjobs, reader gets teased.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

A/N: I know the title is cheesy as fuck but what else could I name this LMFAO, hope you enjoy this though! Sorry if anyone is OOC, like Lenny, Sean, or Javier, I’m not too familiar with them. 

One minute you were having a good time around the campfire with everyone, then the next they somehow (with the help of a lot of alcohol) found out you weren’t very experienced when it came to sexual relations. For some reason Sean found that hilarious, he couldn't stop laughing. Lenny didn’t believe it at all, his words exactly were ‘There’s no way a woman as beautiful as you hasn’t had millions of men’.

“That’s the thing.” Javier argued as you tried not to die from embarrassment. “She’s gorgeous, who would be able to impress her? You think she’d slum around with anyone around here?”

“Have you really only been with two men?” Karen tried to whisper but it came out much louder than she thought, causing a few other people to look at you again.

You scoffed, your cheeks hot with anxiety. “It’s none of your business, none of you.” You didn’t mean to make a scene but it sure shut everyone up.

“Come on lass, it’s not that big of a deal.” Sean said with his face still red from laughter.

You shook your head and stood up, stalking off into the woods. You could hear Lenny calling after you but you ignored him. It was bad enough they made fun of you for something so stupid, but when you stormed off it made it a lot worse. You let them know they got to you.

Footsteps sounded from behind you and you forced the lump out of your throat so you could talk. “Leave me alone Lenny, I want to be alone.”

“It’s not Lenny.”

You looked over your shoulder and saw Arthur catching up to you. “Oh, it's you.” You sniffed and looked back in front of you, continuing to walk through the woods.

“Where you off to?” He asked and slowed down once he was walking beside you.

“I don’t know.” You admitted and ran your fingers through your hair in an attempt to self-soothe. “I, I know they didn’t mean no harm. But it’s not fun being the center of attention, especially when everyone's debating your sex life.”

Arthur nodded and took his hat off to fix his hair. “I should’ve stopped ‘em, I don’t know why I didn’t say anything back there.”

You looked at him as he put his hat back on and sighed. “It’s alright. Maybe I overreacted.”

“You reacted the same as anyone would. I wouldn’t like my personal business being discussed around a fire with a bunch of drunk people. Especially Sean. Too bad Micah wasn’t there, maybe he would’ve opened his mouth and given me a reason to kill him.”

You stopped walking and turned around, crossing your arms. The camp was out of sight now, you couldn’t even hear them anymore. You glanced to Arthur and then back to the woods. “You don’t need a reason to kill him.” You muttered, causing Arthur to chuckle.

“Well, as much as I agree-”

“How many women have you been with?” You asked suddenly.

Arthur raised his brows and scratched his chin awkwardly, he was totally caught off guard by your question. “I uh… not many more than you…”

Really? You were under the impression he had more notches on his belt than hairs on your head. “You’re not saying that to make me feel better, are you?”

He shook his head and leaned against a tree, crossing his legs at the ankles. “Now, you know I don’t lie to you.”

You smiled and laughed nervously, scratching the back of your neck. “Yeah. Well.” You took a deep breath and forced yourself to look at him. “Would you say you’re experienced?”

“Jesus, girl. You sure you want to talk about that with me?”

“As long as you won't think of me any different.”

He laughed then, as if the idea was absurd. “(Y/N), there’s probably nothing you could do that would make me think of you differently.” He said and you smiled even wider at that. There was no one else that could give you butterflies like Arthur could. “Well, if you really want to know, then sure. I would say so.”

You nodded and chewed on your bottom lip, glancing everywhere but at him. “Okay.” The next question you had was almost impossible to say. “Okay. Promise you won’t think of me different.” He nodded, urging you to continue. “Okay… Well… don’t feel obligated to say yes. Okay?” You were saying that word a lot, it must have been your nerves. “Would you… teach me… could you teach me how to please a man?”

Arthur thought there was nothing you could say that would surprise him. But there he was, his heart suddenly racing at 100mph. “Are you serious?”

You felt like an idiot. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that. What was I thinking?” You muttered, mostly to yourself.

“No, listen. Are you sure this is something you want to do? Because, (Y/N), once we cross that line there’s no going back. No going back to being how we are now.”

“In a bad way?” You asked, a bit worried by his words. “As in, you won't be my friend anymore?”

He almost pitied you then. “Of course not- (Y/N),” He sighed and shook his head, rubbing his face. “I just don’t want you to regret this. I don’t want you doin’ nothin’ that you don’t really want to do.”

“I want to, trust me. You have no idea.”

He rubbed his mouth as he thought the whole thing over. “Alright. Well, what do you want to know?”

The sudden realization of how serious the whole thing was almost knocked you on your ass. “Uhm… what do men like?”

He chuckled and crossed his arms, leaning back against the tree. “What do men like? Well, we like lots of things.” He struggled to find the words without sounding too vulgar. But it was hard to describe a blowjob without being filthy. “I guess the most popular way a woman can please a man is with her mouth and her hands.” After he spoke he mentally punched himself, was he really talking like this with you?

You nodded and fiddled with your fingers, trying to gather up the courage to ask him if you could try.

“And that, that’s a little hard to teach someone without actually doing it.”

That made it easier for you to ask your question. “Could we do it?”

He was stunned by you, once again. “You can’t be serious. Why in the world would you wanna do that?”

“Could we? Please? Unless you don’t want to. And don’t try to convince me that I’m not in my right mind. I know what I’m asking. I’m not even drunk anymore.”

“Alright, alright. I reckon there’s no harm…” Before he could finish you had stepped towards him, causing both of your hearts to speed up. He watched you carefully as you looked him over, thinking of what to do first. “Are you s-”

“Shut up, I’m sure.” You cut him off and reached for his belt. When your hands touched the leather you could feel his body heat and it made you even more nervous. You had touched Arthur plenty of times before but this felt so different. You were seeing and feeling him in an entirely new way.

You unbuckled his belt and then did the same to his pants, noticing how his breathing had changed from completely silent to softly audible. Should you slow down? You looked up to his face to see he still had his eyes on you but they looked different. His whole face had changed, he was hardly recognizable. So that’s what he looked like when he was horny.

Glancing back down you took a deep breath and sank down to your knees.

“Wait, here.” Arthur took his coat off and set it down on the forest floor in front of him. Your heart swelled at the kind gesture, every single day he proved he was the kindest man in the world.

Smiling in thanks, you tugged his pants down to his thighs. You had to try not to have a panic attack, you had never pleased a man with your mouth before so the concept was entirely foreign.

When you looked up to Arthur for guidance he almost fainted. You looked so beautiful like that, looking up at him with curious eyes with his cock in your face. He almost asked you once again if you were sure, but he bit his tongue. “Try not to use teeth, and go slow. There’s no right way to do-”

He choked when you took him into your mouth, tossing his head back to thump against the tree trunk. “Jesus, girl.” He whispered and ran his fingers through your hair. “You really never done this before?”

You didn’t respond, you were too occupied with his cock in your mouth. He was so warm, and he tasted different than you thought. He was salty, but it wasn’t unpleasant, thankfully. He did have a lot of pubic hair though so that was hard not to have all over your face.

Taking him further into your mouth you swirled your tongue around his length, experimenting with movements. He seemed to like that.

“Shit.” He breathed and fought to keep his eyes open so he could watch you. “Just like that. What you cant fit, use your hands. Move your head a little, just like you’d move your hips.” Oh, those words were sin.

You wrapped one hand around the base of his cock and massaged while you continued licking him, occasionally bobbing your head up and down. Hollowing out your cheeks was something you discovered on your own, you thought the pressure might feel nice. Also, it was hard to suck when there was air in your mouth.

There was no way he could last long, not when it was his first time with you. Even when he shamefully touched himself to the thought of you he never lasted more than a few minutes. So when he came within only two minutes he wasn’t surprised.

“Stop,” He panted and tried to take his cock out of your mouth in an effort to spare you tasting cum. He didn’t go over that part with you, and many people hated the taste of it. “You won’t want to, (Y/N)-”

You shook your head and sped up your movements. You knew he was about to cum, you’d seen a man orgasm before. The taste of cum was a mystery to you so you wanted to try it, and Arthur was the only man you’d feel comfortable tasting. Anyone else would feel too disgusting.

When he came he accidentally thrust into your mouth. If he could speak he would have apologized but his orgasm was so strong he was incapable. He huffed as he came, his eyes clenched shut and his fists in your hair.

You watched his face as he came, enjoying the state you had put him in. For your first blowjob, you did amazing, something neither of you expected. And the taste was pretty bad but after you swallowed it had numbed your mouth and throat, sort of like cocaine gum.

After you were sure he was done you stood back up, quickly becoming aware of how turned on you had gotten. “Was that good?” You asked and wiped the spit from your mouth.

Arthur nodded, his breath still labored and shaky. “It was,” He struggled to speak, swallowing hard. “You were great.” He pulled his pants back up and buckled his belt, all with shaky hands. “If you had told me after you’d never done that, I wouldn’t have believed you.”

“I guess it’s just another one of my weird natural talents.” You laughed awkwardly and shifted your feet in an attempt to get friction between your legs.

Arthur chuckled and tipped his head in agreement. “You wanna get back to camp now? Don’t want them thinking anything suspicious.”

You nodded and picked up his jacket, giving it a good shake before you handed it back to him. “Hey, when we get back, maybe I can teach you to please a woman.” You were mostly joking since you were sure he knew damn well how to do so. But when you looked at him you saw he was more than happy to oblige.

He had a twinkle in his eyes and one of the most wicked grins on his lips. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

[maddiemccarthy]

Possibilities || Padison

who: madison and puck (@puckrmn​)

when: friday, after puckenna’s party

where: puck’s apt

warnings: some nsfw mentions of mikenna and mcrose (sorry not sorry tiff)

Puck carefully shifted the pizza box into one hand as he used the other to unlock the front door of his apartment. The party had been a huge success, but the night wasn’t over just yet. The alcohol flowing through his body made the simple task of unlocking the lock a lot more difficult that it should of been. He held the door open to let Madison come in as well. Handing her the pizza box, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Bring this into my bedroom. I’ll grab us some drinks and be there in a second,” he muttered into her ear before pulling away. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of beers and waters for them before making his way into his bedroom. Shutting his door, he got onto the bed next to and placed the drinks on his nightstand. Puck handed her a beer and scooted closer to his guest. “Did you have fun?”

Madison's mind was just the right state of blurried as she took the pizza down the hall. Admittedly she'd never been in his bedroom, but she had confidence in which door was Kenna's and which was the bathroom. Her deductive skills weren't gone yet. She slipped her shoes off and set the box on the bed before hopping on and getting settled. With her legs crossed in front of her and her skirt adjusted just enough to not be indecent, Madison flipped the pizza box opened and grabbed a slice, manners of waiting for her host be damned. Grinning at him around a bite, she nodded. "A lot of fun. Basically all of my favorite people were here. It's a cool spot up there."

Taking a sip of his beer, he leaned back against his headboard and nodded along to her words. “Yeah it was a chill crowd. Nice night too. Was worried it was gonna rain there for a hot minute,” he said as he reached over and grabbed a pizza slice for himself. Puck took a big bite and sighed contently. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way. I mean I know I already told you that earlier but figured you should hear it again.” He finished off his slice and tossed the crust into the pizza box. His eyes slowly raked over her body as she sat next to him. Part of him was having issues believing that Madison McCarthy was actually here in his bed. He pressed a kiss to her cheek once more before grabbing the remote to turn on his tv. “Netflix?”

"It's not jeans and a tshirt chic like you," she teased, tugging at his sleeve as she took a drink, "but thank you. It's like I said, I wanted something a little special." Madison followed his lead, leaning back and adjusting to find the comfy spot. It moved her in closer to Puck, and maybe that was what made it all the more comfortable. "Yeah, pick whatever," she agreed with a nod. She reached for the pizza box, offering it to him for another slice before closing the lid and setting it out of the way so she could stretch out her legs. She focused on the scrolling menu on the tv for a moment before turning her attention back to Puck. "You have your eye on anything?"

A smile played on his lips as she moved closer to him. He glanced down at his outfit and chuckled. “Hey it took me a while to pick out this black t shirt and black jeans,” he joked before he took another slice and taking a bite. As he ate the slice, he tried to focus on finding something for them to watch. His attention kept getting pulled to the girl next to him. “Yeah I got my eye on something,” he replied as he stared at her legs stretched out on the bed. He absentmindedly clicked on Shameless just so they could have something on in the background and tossed the remote to the side. Finishing his slice, he dropped his hand onto her leg and squeezed it softly. “You gonna spend the night?” he asked, not paying any attention to what was on the television.

A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth as she followed his gaze. Her knee bent, fabric falling to show just a little more skin. Taking another drink from her bottle, Madison shrugged a little at his question. “Depends, really. You gonna admit you want me to?” There was a mix of challenge and tease in her tone. On the one hand, she knew the answer just as well as she knew she wanted to stay. But on the other, could they ever just be straight with each other? She nodded anyway, bringing her hand down to his and tracing the outline of it against her own skin. “Pretty sure I’m not going anywhere until you make me,” she told him. “Guess you’re stuck playing host.”

Puck took a sip from his beer bottle as he watched more of her skin get exposed. You could probably cut the sexual tension between them with a butter knife, but it wasn’t like he was going to say anything about it. Instead of answering her question verbally, he leaned over and kissed the corner of her mouth. Puck finished off the rest of his beer and placed the empty bottled on his nightstand. He shifted further down to lay more on his bed, his hand slowly rubbing her leg as he pretended to watch the show on his television. “Let me know if you wanna borrow a t shirt or something to change into. Because I’m pretty sure you’re stuck here until the morning,” he joked before looking up at her. “Or you can sleep in nothing. I’m definitely alright with that too.” His fingers moved to the skin peaking out from her skirt.

She licked her lips as he moved away from her, watching his movements before following suit and turning her head to the tv. They danced and talked around everything all the time, never quite saying anything, always answering in more questions. But sitting on his head, his hand on her leg, Madison wasn't sure how long she'd be able to keep up the game. She took a drink from her bottle, pulled it back to examine what was left, then took one more drink to finish it off. Shifting onto her side, she reached over Puck to set it out of the way with his. She looked down at him and considered his offer, eyes drifting down his torso then back up to meet his. "A tshirt might be nice," she agreed, then walked her fingers down his chest, hooking in the fabric to ruck his shirt up. "You should just let me borrow this one."

His gaze drifted up as she leaned over him to put her empty bottle on his nightstand. Smirking, he followed the path of her fingers down his chest. “Yeah. You could totally have this one,” he said as he pulled his shirt off. Puck brought it to his nose and sniffed. “Even though it smells like…booze and watermelon and smoke…let me get you a better one.” Puck leaned up and kissed her softly before rolling off his bed. Making his way to his dresser, he pulled out an old t-shirt for her and a pair of basketball shorts for himself. He playfully tossed the shirt at her before unbuttoning his jeans to put on his shorts. Once he was changed, he got back on the bed and draped his arm over her waist. Puck crowded into her space easily. At this time, the tv was just on for background noise as all his attention was focused in on the brunette in his arms. “We should hang out more. Preferably in bed,” he joked.

Madison chuckled as she caught the shirt and scooted of the bed, changing quickly with her back toward him. Though part of her wondered what was the point in modesty when wearing his shirt left her bottom nearly completely bare. Settling back into him, her head turned to face Puck as he spoke. "Easier for you to get handsy here, huh?" she teased, sliding her fingers slowly over his arm. "But I would have to agree that your bed is really comfy. 10 outta 10, would sleep here again." Madison leaned in and pressed her lips to his briefly, pulling back to meet his eyes. "Or... not sleep." She was intent to kiss him again when she heard a distinctive moan. Glancing quickly to the tv to confirm her suspicion that it wasn't the source, she laughed quietly. "I don't think I'm the only person spending the night tonight."

“Don’t act like you don’t wanna get handsy too,” he teased back. Being with her felt easy. His hand trailed down her waist to her leg as she kissed him. He immediately chased her lips when she pulled back, already needing more from her. “Not sleeping sounds perfect to me,” he muttered as she leaned in once more. A confused look washed over his face as she stopped her actions. Puck lifted his head out of curiosity and couldn’t help but bust out laughing when he heard the familiar moan coming from down the hall. “I thought I saw her slip away with Micah.” He laid on his back and chuckled as the moans kept coming. Grabbing Madison’s thigh, he pulled her leg over his waist. “You know she’s only gonna get louder from here. Wait until the cursing starts.” Smirking, he leaned up to capture her lips in a slow kiss only to drop back laughing against the bed as another moan echoed in the apartment. “You think she’s getting fingered or actually fucked? Should we go take a peak?”

Her hand gripped loosely at his arm, holding herself close to him even as Puck manipulated her closer. She liked getting tangled in him. It was impossible not to laugh, even if she did feel the slightest annoyance at the interruption. Barely dressed and discussing Kenna's sex life was not exactly how she pictured their night. But the amusement outweighed everything else. Madison dropped her forehead to shoulder, laughing again at his question. She pressed a kiss into his chest, listening as a "fuck" came down the hall. "I dunno," she mused, trailing her lips up his neck, pausing to nip at the skin every so often. "It sounds an awful lot like when I finger her with my mouth around her clit," she said against his ear before pulling back to look down at him. "But you're the one who's actually fucked her, you tell me."

His hand roamed over her back as she laid against him, laughing at the free porn. The whole situation is why he was never a fan of roommates to begin with. And knowing McKenna, it wasn’t going to be over anytime soon. But in the end, he wasn’t going to complain about spending time with Madison. His laughter died down as he felt her lips against his skin. Puck leaned his head to the side to give her more access to his neck. A low groan fell from his lips at the words she said into his ear. A smirk grew wide across his face as he looked up at her. “She’d definitely be a lot louder if they were fucking. But tell me more about your mouth on her clit,” he said as pressed her body against his. His gaze dropped to her lips for a moment, his tongue running briefly over his own, before it returns to her eyes. “I’d love to know more about what that mouth can do.” Puck kissed her firmly.

Madison didn't miss the noise he made at her words, and there was a thought in her mind about what she could to hear it again. She was prepared to tease him with details of her times with Kenna but wasn't upset when the conversation ended with him kissing her quiet. Her hand slipped up his arm as she returned his kiss, squeezing at his bicep. "She's gonna cum," she mumbled against his lips before she heard Kenna's voice echoing the same sentiment. Madison laughed quietly but didn't pull away, instead pressing short kisses against his lips. Her hips rocked absently against his side as she kissed him again, tongue slipping across his lips and seeking entrance. As entertaining and slightly annoying as the interruption was, there was no denying it wasn't also incredibly sexy.

He smirked against Madison’s lips as he heard the very familiar sounds of Kenna hitting her orgasm coming from the other room. “How long until they go for round two?” he questioned into the kiss. As soon as he felt her her begin to rock against him, his entire focus zoned in on Madison. His lips parted to allow her tongue access. As the kiss deepened, he carefully rolled them over so that he was on top. His tongue tangled with hers as he settled down between her legs. Puck’s hands roamed up her body to tangle in her hair. He nipped her lower lip before breaking away from the kiss. Resting his elbows on either side of her head, he slow ran his fingers through her hair as he stared down at her. “You’re beautiful,” he muttered as he pressed his lower half against her.

With him above her, Madison slid her hands over his chest and moved around to his back, closing around him. She wanted Puck close, and then even closer still. Her leg hooked back around his waist when he pressed against her, a hum of a moan on her lips. "You don't look so bad yourself," she told him, running her hand over his back then moving to cup his neck. Her thumb moved slowly over the skin as she studied his face. It was slightly overwhelming to be tangled up in him while looking back at him, but she didn't want to break his stare, break their moment. She lifted her head to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, quickly relaxing back. "Is staring all you wanna do?"

His fingers continued to run through her hair as they laid there in a comfortable silence. Puck’s eyes closed briefly as she pressed a kiss against him. Chuckling, he shrugged his shoulder at her question. “I wouldn’t mind staring at you all night,” he responded with a smirk. Leaning down, he captured her lips with his in a slow but deep kiss. It was easy to get lost in that kind of kiss, enjoying how it felt to have her completely wrapped around him. Breaking away from her lips, he trailed kisses down her neck. Puck roughly bit her skin before running his tongue over the mark. Pulling away, he laid on the bed next to her. He took her hand in his and played with her fingers softly. “If you told me we’d be doing this two weeks ago I would’ve laughed in your face. It’s weird how shit changes in this town.” Leaning over, he pecked her lips softly.

She whined quietly when he broke their kiss. She would have been content to be kissed like that all night, but her head tipped easily to the side at the first touch of his lips on her neck. Her fingers combed into his hair, tugging slightly when she felt teeth against her skin. Madison followed his every move, watching him settle and then focusing on their hands. It barely made sense how they seemed to go from one extreme to other, searching kisses and thinly veiled innuendo to soft touches and quiet musings. "But you were thinking about it two weeks ago, right?" she wondered aloud, even though she was confident in knowing the answer. She rolled into Puck again, pillowing her chin on a hand that rested on his chest. Madison studied his face quietly for a moment before meeting his eyes again. "I guess there really was 'always a possibility' for us, huh?"

“I was thinking about it from the moment I met you,” he said honestly as he interlaced his fingers with hers, squeezing softly. He watched her adjust her position, slowly trailing a finger down her spine once she settled in. Her words caused a smile to appear on his face. What she was saying was true. Regardless of their situations at any given time, there was always something there between them…even if neither would admit it out loud. Letting go of her hand, he reached up and cupped her cheek softly. “Always a possibility,” he repeated before leaning down to get lost in kissing her for the rest of the night.

[alexmasonking]

A Nightmare to Remember

Alex and Jessica were jamming out in the car, ready to spend New Years up on the mountain with all their family. The two were blasting a throwback to their early emo middle school days and Jessica was sitting with her back against the door to his car, her feet tapping against his thigh to the beat of the music. “Hopefully this rain will clear up before new years otherwise we might not see many fireworks.” He huffed in a little bit of a pout. The two rounded one of the turns up the mountain when his headlights caught something in the middle of the road. Alex’s arm instinctively shot out to hold Jessica back as he punched on the breaks, but the car just slid and Alex realized he couldn’t reach her on the far side of the car with the way she had been sitting. The two were jerked around as the loud crunch of metal cut through the music and the car spun off the road.

There was no memory of what happened next, all Alex could recall was the throbbing in his head once the car found itself wedged in a more wooded area near the bottom of the mountain.  He lifted his head off the steering wheel, coughing and wincing as he struggled to catch his breath. His left side felt like it was on fire and he thought he might throw up from the pain, but the need to check on Jessica trumped any assessment of his own condition. Slowly, he moved his head to look at the passenger side, calling out her name through the settling dirt and debris that had been kicked up on their tumble down the mountain. He got no response and reached out as far as he could to feel her and check on her, but his hand just hit empty air and the back of the seat.

As the dust settled, he started screaming out her name, noticing she wasn’t anywhere in the car with him. Trying to move and pull himself out of his seat, Alex found himself coughing again, vision dancing with white and black spots and breath catching in his chest. Not long after he was passing out from the pain. This cycle continued twice more until he woke up to the sound of people yelling his name and he just rested where he was, not sure of this was a fever dream from hypothermia or real life, but as soon as a bright light hit his face, he was squinting and nodding as an all too familiar voice started shouting and asking him if he was okay. Was he? Not really. Was it bad enough to worry Cam over? Not really.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay. I can hear you.” He insisted, head turned away from the bright light. “I couldn’t find Jessica, did you find her? Is she okay?” Cam moved his flashlight out of his face and looked up the hill, hollering at apparently Ryan - though it seemed Nicole was the one responding. He realized he was moreso watching Cam, hearing the shouting, but not processing the words until Cam was back in his face, nodding and telling him that Jessica was fine, Ryan was helping her sit up and warm up as they spoke. “You’ve got to stay talking to me, alright? Help will be here in ten.” Cam lied and reached out to pat at Alex’s arm. “How are you feeling? Can you move?” “I’m okay, but I’m pinned in.” Cam moved around the car to try and open Alex’s door. “Let’s get you out of here, alright? Can you push?” The two tried forcing the crushed door open, but when that didn’t work Cam crawled over through one of the busted windows to try and possibly move Alex’s seat back, but that wouldn’t budge either. 

“Change of plans, we’re going to just have to wait for help. Can you hang in there?” Cam huffed and Alex nodded, giving a chuckle which turned into a cough. “Yeah, I’ll do what I can.” The boys started talking about anything and anything, Alex could tell that Cam was panicked because his mind seemed to be running a mile a minute, but he didn’t mind. The moments he didn’t have to contribute, he could focus on breathing without the obnoxious and sharp pain when he took a deep breath or the constant burning, throbbing sensation in his upper abdomen. Whenever he took too long to breathe through whatever his body was going through, he’d feel Cam once again patting him on the shoulder and then his awareness would return, he’d open his eyes, unaware that they were ever closing to begin with and tune back in to the voice hollering at him to stay awake. 

Alex blinked at Cam before finally speaking back up. “Sorry, I’m good, I’m good. I’m talking, I’m good.” He could more so feel the relief coming from Cam rather than hear it. “Well good, because as soon as you’re out of this fucking car you’ve got to help me with this baby room, man. So stay with me, alright?” Alex smirked, remembering where the conversation was before he started drifting off. “Oh yeah, how’d you two come up with a space theme? I thought you said you were going with the beach. Remember the sea turtle stuffed animal?” Conversation was going to be good for both of them, Alex realized, so he really tried to focus, truly he did. “Well I thought that’s what we were going with, Tristan said she liked a beach theme if it was a girl and a space theme if it was a boy. Her and Austin are going to paint planets and stars and stuff on the walls.” “Wait, so it’s a boy?” Alex asked with a surprised grin. “Yeah, just found out today, we were going to tell everyone at the cabin.” Cam’s voice came in a lot calmer this time as he spoke. “Congrats man, you’re going to be a cool ass dad. I’m sure Tristan is thrilled it’s a boy.” “She is, but don’t tell Jessica yet, she wanted everyone to be surprised.” Despite his efforts to focus, rolling his head back to bump the headrest as they talked was a bad decision and immediately Alex’s vision was blurring, black and white spots dancing in and out as he squinted and huffed out a tired sigh. 

He’d been fine passing out the first couple of times, at this rate Alex knew he would be fine to rest some more now, but Cam was not going to allow it. “Five minutes.” He tried to barter, eyes closed, moreso from the pain than from exhaustion, but it was hard to tell the difference when it all blended together. “No, no, no, no. This isn’t Sleepaway camp, no five minutes. You hit your head and five minutes could be really bad.” Cam was swatting at him again, voice louder to gain Alex’s attention, but all he earned back was a harrumph. “Come on, Alex. Stay with me, I need you to stay awake and get out of here in one piece. You’ve still got to help me put that stupid star light wall up once we’re back home. And-and when Malcom or Micah or whatever his name is gets here I’m going to need your help because you’re a lot better with babies and kids than I am. So stay with me okay?”

Alex focused all his will on trying to stay awake, he didn’t want to make Cam any more panicked than he already was, but his eyelids felt weighed down. “I’m with you.” “You sure about that?” “Yeah - yeah. Can you still see Jessica?” “Uh.. yeah, yeah she’s probably got a busted leg, y’know?” “Can you tell her I love her and that I’m sorry?” There was the distant sound of sirens and then the sound of several voices yelling, definitely Cam and probably Nicole if not both Nicole and Ryan, trying to catch emergency service’s attention. 

Beth’s boyfriend Brad was the one to cut the door off his jeep and helped un-wedge him from his current position. He kept hearing from everyone that Jessica was going to be okay, but he knew by their expressions things were very much not okay. Before they removed him from the car, he gripped Brad’s upper arm and looked at him seriously. “Just be honest with me..” The sigh and shake of the head he got was enough to make his stomach sink, but he listened as Brad told him she was already on the way to the hospital, that she’d been thrown and hit a tree and was battling the hypothermia even worse than him. Nodding, Alex gave him a small thanks, brain trying to process that they were both going to be okay. Alex knew he wasn’t going to die, he still knew it and he was just trying to accept that, despite the looks on everyone’s faces and the panic from what sounded like Ryan in the background, Jess was going to be just fine too. He kept assuring himself in his own mind before he hissed in pain as they moved him from the car directly on a backboard.

He didn’t notice it right away, the pain of moving in general was making him slur his words slightly as his blood pressure spiked while he laid in a supine position. He only knew because of the annoyingly rapid beeping of the heart monitor he didn’t even realize had been attached to him. His vision was dancing as the pounding in his head started in again with a fury this time. “I need to sit up-“ He started to insist as everything started spinning, but the EMTs just told him that wasn’t safe for his spine to be in an elevated position and he could hear Cam start to argue that if he was in more pain laying down they needed to listen to him. It was an argument neither of them were going to win, so Alex just held out his hand to his brother and told him it would be fine. That he was okay and everyone would be okay.

He kept assuring his best friend as they loaded up in the ambulance and Cam rode with, but in a moment’s notice the pain in his head built up until he’d rather it explose and then he felt nothing. Alex didn’t feel the pain in his body, didn’t hear the loud consistent ring of the heart monitor signaling a drop in pulse that wasn’t returning. He didn’t hear Cam, frantic in the seat next to him or the instructions from the EMTs as they cut open his shirt and prepared him for the first of the three shocks it took to restart his heart. He didn't even hear the monitors beeping once his heart started again, just laid in a peaceful blackness.

Once Alex was being wheeled in through emergency, they took Cam into the same private waiting room that Ryan and Nicole were already in, talking to their parents. They all turned their attention to him, but a moment later, Derek was getting a page for an emergency patient assessment and he patted Cam’s shoulder on the way out, rushing to treat his now son in law, unbeknownst to him. It took only a few moments for Derek to check over Alex to know he needed to call in a CT and the surgical team. He was getting a bedside ultrasound and Derek argued with Christina over what would kill him faster, a ruptured spleen or any of the million side effects Alex might deal with with a brain injury.

It took about fifteen minutes for the CT to be finished and for the results to be read with a clear plan of action laid out. Given how long the pressure had been building up in Alex’s brain, Derek called for him to be moved into the OR so they could cut open his skull. After the pressure had been released via several burrs, Derek prepared a drainage tube for insertion to keep things equalized while his brain was still dealing with the trauma. They left his skull more exposed while the second surgical team came in to operate on his spleen, using the additional time to relieve as much pressure as they could. Originally the second team had hoped to recover a part of his spleen to keep functioning, but with the prolonged time of Alex being pinned to the steering wheel and the couple hours it took to get his brain stable, it just wasn’t possible to save and waiting any longer put all his organs at risk of sepsis which he wouldn’t be able to battle without a spleen.

While that portion of the surgery was being taken care of, Derek scrubbed out and met back up with the now crowded waiting room, giving a little update and getting one on Jessica as well. The whole family was an anxious mess, hoping and praying that they could save Jessica and their family seemed to move from the waiting room to the surgical watch rooms, watching over Alex and Jessica. After they had finished removing Alex’s spleen, Derek returned to check on him, finishing up the final bit of his surgery before releasing him to be taken into an ICU room.

Everyone was, for the most part, back in the waiting room when Derek finally walked out in his scrubs, hand rubbing over his mouth. “Jessica has a pulse and Alex is stabilizing. Let’s all just take a deep breath knowing that. We are keeping an eye on the pressure in his skull and they have him in an induced coma to try and prevent total organ failure from any possible sepsis.” He looked over at Cam and Tristan and gave a little sigh. “You two can probably go sit with him in about ten minutes, let them get him settled in the ICU first.” With that, Derek hugged his wife before walking out to go take a couple minutes to collect himself before he got called in for another possible procedure.

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 24)

Snowballing

Another explicit chapter, guys. Some bickering, some (copious) smut, and some fluff!

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

"This lady here, Arthur? She's one clever little mare," John gestured to me then clapped Arthur's shoulder as we all climbed off the wagon after an evening of fine work, all of us in high spirits. Arthur had been standing guard for the evening, but handed over to Javier for the night shift just as we arrived. He gave us each a quizzical look, and I shrugged as casually as I could.

"We did well, the girls made off with a few wallets, watches, and the like," I informed him. Dutch and Micah were strolling up to us, investigating the commotion of giggles and cheers. "Karen made a healthy profit at the poker table."

"Sure did. And this one?" John put a hand on top of my head in a way I was sure was meant to be well-natured. "Sold a guy a damn rock for three hundred dollars."

"Well, seventy five, plus a watch and a necklace. Both of which could be worthless, for all we know," I corrected and John let out a wheeze of a laugh. 

"Not half as worthless as what he made off with," he grinned and I dodged out from under his hand, smirking bashfully. 

"It was teamwork," I said, strolling away to distance myself from all the attention. I headed towards Dutch, pulling out the remaining cash after John's cut, peeling away most of it but keeping some for myself. I pushed it into his hand, along with the necklace and the watch. He stared at me in surprise, then glanced at Micah. "John played a good shitty businessman. Sore loser, too," I added, spinning back around to flash him a smirk before heading off into camp. 

"Hold on," Dutch called out to me. I turned to him, stomach dropping. "Good work. You're turning out to be a nice little addition to our family," he nodded, waving the cash at me. Relief filled me, as well as a sense of pride.

"Yeah, real nice," Micah added, tone low, eyes trailing up and down my form. 

"You're welcome, I guess," I chuckled awkwardly. I finally got away, plucked an apple from Pearson's wagon and bit into it. 

"You really are quite the con lady, huh, missy?" Micah appeared behind me, bottle of gin in his hand, a cocky swagger to his walk only slightly put off balance by the alcohol so evidently in his system.

"I suppose," I shrugged, chewing through the apple. 

"Clever girl. How'd you do it?" He asked, coming to lean up against the butchering table right next to me. 

"A little role-playing," I told him, tone light and casual. "It weren't nothing complicated, just made out like John was trying to buy it and the guy did the rest of the work himself."

"A rock," he snorted, bristles of his moustache shifting, curving up with a smirk.

"Yep. A rock, just picked it up off the ground."

"Three hundred dollars."

"If we're lucky."

"Wow," he exhaled, then took a swig of gin. "You and me. We should go out conning together."

"Mhm?" I hummed non-committally, distracting myself with my apple.

"Sure, with your looks and my brains, we could pull something off," he said, leaning in.

"I thought I was the clever one?" I snorted. He chuckled lowly, sneering just a little.

"Alright. With my looks and your brains," he rephrased, then snatched the apple from my hand, taking a bite out of the same place I had, before slotting it back between my fingers. I stared at him, face flat and the furthest thing from impressed. "I find your work ethic real attractive, you know that?"

"Is that right?" I mused flatly, and suddenly he was being pulled back by his arm. He grunted and hopped on one foot as he was dragged away, out of balance. Arthur made sure he was a comfortable distance from me before righting him on his feet and pressing a fresh apple into his palm.

"Apples are over here, jackass," he grumbled into his face before sauntering past him towards me.

"Fuck you, Morgan. She ain't right for a lily-livered boy like you, run along and draw some pretty flowers," Micah snipped, staggering a step forwards and hurling the apple at Arthur's back. It bounced off with a thud and rolled across the grass, landing by Micah's feet.

I saw Arthur's face wilt in annoyance, lip twitching. He plucked the half eaten apple from my hand – I sure as hell wasn't finishing it – and spun, launching the thing like a damn shot-put at Micah's head. The thing burst open on contact, showering the area with lumps of apple. I might've laughed at the visual, but Micah went for him, crying out like some sort of animal, arms flailing, gin dropping to the floor and soaking into the mud. He'd just gathered purchase on Arthur's shirt, but he was drunk, and was easily peeled off and pushed to the ground. I half expected Arthur to land a few punches, maybe a kick, but he didn't. He backed away, tutting and shaking his head.

"Sleep it off, you fool," and there was that angry tone again, deep and gritty, rocks grinding against concrete. It made a pulse surge through my body, landing right between my thighs. Wow, that was unexpected.

Micah groaned, rolling over and dragging himself up. He didn't seem to fancy making any more of a fool of himself, and skulked off without another word. Arthur turned to me, scanned my face, his own expression shifting to mild shame.

"I'm sorry, princess," he said to me very quietly.

"Follow me," I replied, turning and striding off. Silence for a few moments, followed by his dragging feet. Perhaps he thought I was angry? I let him think that, leading him out of camp, off parallel to the lake towards a dense patch of trees. It was dark, late in the evening, a lot of the camp was sleeping anyway but I wanted to get away from there.

I waited until we were well concealed then spun around, crashing against him and wrapping my arms around his neck, kissing him hard. He did not seem to anticipate it, jerking and grunting, hands catching my waist. He settled soon enough, kissing me back with just as much heat, groaning and walking his hips forwards, pressing our bodies close. Our kiss was loud, breathy, fervid. I gripped onto the back of his shirt, practically hanging off of him as his hold on me tightened, effectively lifting me up. He made small humming sounds, like he was trying to communicate something, I wasn't smart enough to figure out what but he was prising me off of him far too soon.

"Hey, hey," he puffed, out of breath, "what're you doing?" He asked, but he didn't sound upset about it.

"I'm sorry, I had to. You– Christ, you do something to me when you talk like that," I admitted to him, forehead pressed to his, hands roaming up and down his back, fingers finding ridges of muscle.

"Like what?" He laughed, stroking up my sides, around to my back.

"Like you spoke to Micah," I added and he seemed to understand, hands stilling. He didn't say anything else, and I kissed him again, walking him back against a nearby tree. He let me continue for quite some time, not putting up a fight to my over-eager hands exploring his upper body, fingers slipping through the opening of his shirt and the union suit underneath just enough to drag across bare skin and chest hair.

"Mm– w-wait, hold on–" he stammered then, forcing our lips to part. "Where is this going, exactly?" He asked me, panting.

I stalled, breath leaving me like I'd been punched in the gut. I looked around, reminded of where we were. I wanted to do so much to him, a whole novel's worth of things, in fact. But not there, not like that. Though, I was not about to leave him hanging. 

I dipped my head under his chin, resting the top of it against his collar bone as my hands went to his belt buckle, unfastening it. Arthur's breath picked up, he let me undo his belt and lower it to the ground, guns and all. He also let me unfasten his jeans, my knuckles brushing the stiff bulge in the front and making his body tense. I bit down on my lip, keeping my gaze focused straight down as I slid a shaky hand inside, cupping him through his union suit. My body throbbed needily when I touched him, feeling the outline of his erection, the warmth of it, the way it moved under my hand – and that was a surprise – as it grew harder. 

I gave it a few experimental rubs, grinding my palm up and down, hearing Arthur's responsive moans, feeling his hips press forwards.

"Angel…" he breathed. His own hands moving to my front, brushing down over the buttons of my blouse before reaching my pants, unfastening them and pushing inside, into my drawers. His fingers met my core and I opened my mouth, an almost soundless moan escaping as I shifted my head to rest on his shoulder.

I pulled myself together long enough to pluck open the bottom buttons of his union suit, bravely sticking my hand inside, wrapping it around him and drawing his length out. Arthur hissed, hips bucking. 

"Tell me what to do," I breathed, earning a whine and a kiss to the side of my head. 

"J-jus' move your hand, yeah, like that… Christ almighty," he puffed, head knocking back against the tree trunk. 

I stroked my hand back and forth, feeling the skin shift in a way I hadn't been expecting, and held him looser as a result. 

"No, that's… that's right. You can hold tighter than that, I ain't that delicate," he told me, and I adjusted my grip, looking down as I stroked his foreskin back and forth over the head, hearing Arthur's groans pick up as I did. His hand had gone lax in my pants, but I didn't mind.

My fingers barely met my thumb where they wrapped around him, and I shamelessly looked down to watch my ministrations. It was dark, but I could still watch his hips drive forward, his cock disappearing and emerging from the ring of my hand with our movements. It made me shiver, and I was grateful when Arthur seemed to remember himself and began stroking me again, fingers sliding through my slickness before settling on the bud of pure bliss that had me groaning and twisting my face into his neck.

"You like this? You're so…" he trailed off, and I hummed against him. 

"I'm so what?" I asked. So bad? So good? I needed to know.

"Wet," he answered, surprising me. "You're real turned on," he added, his voice so deep and sensual. 

"Yes," I breathed, "of course I am."

"All for me?" He lilted, voice curling up, though it was small and timid, even.

"For you," I affirmed, pressing my lips to his neck, right at his pulse, feeling it race. 

Arthur mewled, a shaky, vulnerable sound, when I moved my hand faster. He did the same, rolling the nub under his first and second finger in quick tight circles, making my breath hitch and my peak draw in fast and powerful. I felt so good with my hand wrapped around him, listening to his sounds, out there among the trees where no one could hear us but each other. 

I lifted my head so I could kiss him, indulging in the sensation of his plush lips working with mine; a little sloppy and distracted but it felt so nice. I moaned, all high pitched and indecent and Arthur swallowed it up, returned it with one of his own. Much deeper. Much gruffer. So, incredibly sexy.

The head of his length grew slick, dampening my hand as I dragged it up and over, and I drew the slick back down. It made my strokes slide easier, and Arthur seemed to like the sensation an awful lot, going rigid and arching his back, hips rocking forwards to thrust into my hand, his own fingers going lax once again. The man seemed unable to multitask when it came to receiving pleasure, and I couldn't help but smile against his mouth in mild amusement at the fact. 

"Ohh, fu– you're gonna make me cum," he rasped, words jagged and raw. His hand gave the odd rub between my legs, like he was trying but struggling to focus on the task. I was far from upset about it, it was oddly endearing. His words were enough to send pleasure to my belly, anyway.

I tilted my head down, wanting to watch. Little hiccuppy sounds escaped him, his breath jerky and fast. I slid my free hand down his arm, covering his hand and pushing it more firmly against me so I could grind. He made a small, breathy apology, I shushed him gently and giggled. I leaned into him, raising up and down just a bit, rubbing myself against his hand indecently, something he seemed to enjoy a lot given his loud moan and his whispers of praise. He moved his hand down, two fingers slipping easily inside me, palm pressing against my clit; it gave me a lot more to work with and I gasped as I practically rode his hand. 

Arthur rumbled a sensuous chuckle, "mm, that's dirty," he hummed and I flushed.

I tried focusing my hand at the tip of his length, since judging by his reactions, he liked that part the best. The effect was immediate, there was a sharp inhale and his body stiffened. His sounds stopped and his mouth hung open, and there was a period of stillness before he released everything; muscles relaxing, drawn out moans flowing freely, sighs of my name, praise, thank yous, the works. His cock spurted in my hand, pumping in bursts, getting all over my knuckles before dropping onto the grassy floor below. My lips parted as I watched; it was so incredibly erotic, I was shocked by how much I enjoyed the show, how much I could indulge in his pleasure.

Arthur curled his fingers inside me, pressing firmly against a certain spot and prompting me to move more solidly against him, chasing my own release. Once he came back down to Earth, Arthur was far more attentive with his hand and helped me out, jerking at the elbow to rut his hand against me in time with my own motions. He was panting into my ear, whispering to me. 

"That's nice, beautiful. You know, you're giving me a hell of a lot to keep me up at night with all those sounds you making," it was muffled against my temple, and so, so dirty. "All I can think about is how you'll feel if I get to have you for real, you feel real nice on my fingers, squeezin' me like you are."

"Fuck, Arthur," I choked, turning my head and involuntarily biting into his shoulder; not hard, but enough to get a guttural reaction from him.

"You like me talking like this?" He asked me, and it was then I realised just how similar this gruff, deep tone of his was to the one he used when he was angry, the one he knew I liked. Though here, it was stirred in with a little sweetness, just for me.

The realisation that he was trying to turn me on, rile me up using his voice like that, knocked the breath from me. I came on his fingers, sobbing at the intensity of it, feeling my wetness on his hand as he moved it faster through my orgasm. 

"I take it you do," he chuckled, wringing the pleasure from me, easing me down from my peak with a gradual slow of his movements. 

When it was over there was a split second where I wanted more, I wanted to push him down to the ground and sink onto him, ride him until we were sighing and cumming all over again. It passed quickly, though, when I opened up my eyes to our wooded surroundings, and I realised my hand was still loosely wrapped around his now flaccid member. I wouldn't be riding anything, out there. I wanted a nice warm bed in a room to ourselves, then Arthur could do whatever the hell he wanted to me, and I'd be in heaven.

"Princess," he whispered to me, withdrawing his fingers and stroking them up and down my slit ever so gently, coaxing a whimper from me. "You alright?" He asked. 

I peeled my head off his shoulder and met his eyes. It was so dark, but I'd adjusted to it and could see his face easily. He cupped my cheek and kissed me once, chaste. 

I remembered he was waiting for a reply and quickly nodded. "Yes, better than alright," I told him. We stared at each other for a few long moments, a soft smile on our faces. 

Eventually we withdrew from each other, looking at our hands, covered in one another's mess and not quite knowing what to do about it. I wheezed a laugh before grabbing his arm and tugging him out of the woods and to the lake. We cleaned ourselves up there and adjusted our clothing, making ourselves presentable. 

"I don't wanna go back," Arthur told me after splashing cool water on his face. I looked at him. "I can't go back after that, sleep in separate bed rolls without at least a little time to… to just sit with you and soak it up."

"Me neither," I admitted. 

Arthur straightened up, taking my hand in his and leading me over to a boulder nearby, groaning as he sat down and tugged me with him. I sat, shifting onto one hip as we reclined against the rock. I hooked my leg over his and placed my head on his chest as his arms encircled me. We could see the camp across the water, just a little way around the bank. It was dark, nobody could see us. And even if they could, I wasn't sure Arthur or I even cared at that point.

"Every single day, I like you a bit more," Arthur told me after a moment of peace. "And every day, the amount it increases by gets bigger. I'm snowballing, hard. Scares me sometimes, just how fast it's happening, but… I don't mind at all."

I turned my head, resting my ear against him, hearing his heartbeat. Thud thud, thud thud. I opened up his shirt and union suit just enough to rest my hand against his bare chest, nails lightly scratching over the hair there. His words made my heart swell, I felt something completely new.

I left it too long before answering, my mind completely blank. I pushed myself to say something. "Don't take my silence as a bad thing. I have no idea what to say to that, all I know is it makes me happy to hear you say it," I whispered.

"I wish I could give you more than this. Constantly surrounded by everyone, having to sneak off to the woods to share a kiss or two. You deserve more," he told me, his fingers skipping up and down my arm, raising the hairs there and tickling ever so slightly.

"I don't deserve nothin', you say that like this ain't already the best thing to ever happen to me," I assured him. 

"You mean that?" He questioned, voice going up at the end.

"Arthur, I ain't ever been so happy," I confessed, hand roaming around under his clothes, fingertips brushing along his collarbone; mapping out his chest in my mind and committing everything about the moment to memory.

Arthur didn't say anything, opting to press a lingering kiss to the top of my head. I lifted my head so I could kiss him, the one we shared was sweet and tender, nothing in it but affection, no lust or neediness for anything more. When it broke, I went right back to resting on his chest, letting out a contented sigh. 

"So," he began after a period of quiet. "Tell me about this three hundred dollar rock."

A smile broke across my face, and I began to recount the story.

[papa-rhys]

Busted (Javier X f!Reader)

Note: I’ve this one on the go for a while and I finally got around to finishing it. Enjoy!

Category: fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 1251

“Why are you so afraid of the others finding out about us?” Javier asks as he lays on the bed in this abandoned shack that he’d brought you to a few hours ago on his quest to get in your pants.

He’s wearing nothing but his jeans, which are unbuttoned and opened wide with the belt slacking on either side of him, and he watches as you stand at the bottom of the bed and step back into your underwear after it was hastily tugged off by him an hour ago.

“I’m not afraid of it,” you say, brushing him off.

“The whole reason we’re in this tired old shack is because you didn’t want me to fuck you back at camp. So you must have some kind of problem with it.”

You flop your arms down at your sides and take a seat on the bed, placing your hand on the mattress in the spot where the light from the sunset hits the sheets. “This mattress is damp,” you mutter to yourself.

“Don’t change the subject,” Javier says, nudging you with his foot.”Why are you scared of people knowing about us?” he asks again.

You let out a sigh of frustration – well, more of a huff, really – and tuck your hair behind your ears with both hands. “I’m not scared,” you reiterate. “I just don’t want them thinking that I’m only fucking you so that I can climb up the ranks.”

“You really think they’d think that?” Javier asks, his eyebrows furrowing as he looks at you in shock.

“Yes! I’ve seen it before,” you sigh. “I’m intelligent and strong and a damn good fighter, but I also live in a world where most people don’t think women capable of those traits. The only thing a woman is good for in their eyes is doing laundry and spreading her legs and I don’t wanna be seen as that kind of woman… Look, I wanna be a part of this gang. And not a stay at home member, either. I wanna go out on jobs with you boys. I wanna be trusted enough to be included in bank scores and big fights. But I want Dutch to trust me with those things because of who I am, not because of who I’m fucking.” You pause and risk a glance up at him. “Maybe that sounds dumb, but that’s the only answer I got.”

“It’s not dumb,” Javier assures you, reaching for your hand and taking it in his own. “But this gang – this family… we’re not like that.”

“I’ve heard the things you’ve said about Abigail when you’re drunk,” you tell him with raised eyebrows. “I know there’s history between you two.”

Javier gathers some words in his mouth but quickly swallows them as you lay down on your stomach beside him. “That was different. She was a whore back then and I was just a kid… I’ve changed a lot.”

“I’d pay good money to see what you were like in your early 20’s,” you giggle.

“You’d be disappointed then,” he chuckles, holding your hand against his chest and subconsciously stroking his fingertips up and down the length of your fingers. You bury your head in the crease of your arm to cover the eye-watering yawn that you give as sleepiness sets in. It’s almost dark outside now and Javier uses his free hand to gently brush your hair into place.

That’s the last thing you remember before drifting off; his hand still held on top of yours.

Daylight breaks and Micah steps into the room where you and Javier lay peacefully asleep. “I found ‘em, boss,” he calls out to Dutch, who enters the room close behind him and lets his shoulders sink as he witnesses the sight of you and Javier half-naked and asleep hand-in-hand.

Dutch clears his throat, but the noise doesn’t wake either of you. He tries again. Nothing. With a shake of his head, he raises his revolver and fires a round into the ceiling directly above him, startling you and Javier awake and sending the pair of you scrambling.

“Oh shit,” you hiss, pulling up the blankets to cover you as you find Dutch and Micah watching you – Dutch shaking his head like a disappointed father and Micah leaning back against the wall behind him and grinning from ear to ear.

“I have been looking for you all night,” Dutch tells Javier. “A million thoughts ran through my head – O’Driscolls, Pinkertons, Lawmen – and I find you here, alive and well in a rundown shithole, fucking the new girl.” The volume of his voice raises steadily as he talks. “Do you have any idea the trouble you have caused me over the last 15 hours?”

“I’m sorry, Dutch,” Javier relents. “We didn’t know you were looking for us.”

“Well, what’s done is done, I suppose. You get yourself dressed,” Dutch tells you. “I’m staying right here until the pair of you are decent.”

“As decent as outlaws could be,” you comment, earning a smile and a shake of the head from Dutch as you rise to your feet.

“So… You charge money for that kinda company, sweetheart?” Micah asks, leering at you; looking you up and down and taking an alarmingly deep inhale of your perfume as he stands close to you.

“I’d have to be paid a damn fortune to fuck the likes of you,” you quip, going back and forth around the room collecting items of your clothing.

“Well, I guess I know where I stand with you then, don’t I, darlin’?”

“10 feet away, preferably,” you retort, earning a snigger from Javier as he watches from behind you.

“What’re you laughin’ at, huh?” Micah spits at him over your shoulder. “I ain’t the one who’s gonna be pissin’ blood in two weeks time,” he snarls. “You wanna get yourself a better taste in women, amigo. This one’s had every pecker in a 6-mile radius down her throat, I’ll bet.”

“That’s enough, Micah,” Dutch chimes in, holding his hand out to silence him.

“Yeah, Micah. We all know you’d be lucky to get your pecker down the throat of a dead coyote, nevermind a fully grown woman,” Javier states, sitting up and fastening his jeans.

“And fully grown she most certainly is,” Micah grunts with a sinister smile, looking you up and down and prompting a disgusted look from you as you swerve him on your way past.

“Give it a rest, Micah. Now.” Dutch flashes him a warning glare and Micah relents, stepping back and offering to wait outside whilst the two of you finish getting dressed.

Dutch hands you the shirt that you’ve been looking for, having picked it up off the back of the lampshade that sits on the rickety old nightstand. “You two better make this up to me,” he says, raising his eyebrows and pointing at you both. “You head into town and you come back to camp with a lead. I wanna see dollar signs in your eyes when you get home. Understood?”

“Yes, Dutch,” you and Javier say in unison, pulling on your clothes and watching him leave the shack. 

You watch Dutch and Micah leave through the gap in the boards that lay across the window and make sure they’re out of sight before talking to Javier. “I guess they’ll know now,” you sigh. “Whether I’m afraid of it or not.”

“It’ll be fine,” Javier reassures you, walking across the mattress on his knees until he’s behind you and pressed up against your back. “They won’t care,” he says, pushing your hair to one side and kissing your neck. “And even if they do, I sure as hell don’t.” He wraps his arms around your upper half and rocks gentle from side to side with you held tightly within his embrace. “If they have a problem with us, then they can stick it,” he tells you, planting a kiss behind your ear before spinning you around to face him and dragging you down onto the bed with him.

[yoongs-yoongi]

Let’s Pretend: Two

Yoongi X Reader

Contains: Slight Angst, Comedy, Eventual Smut

Warnings: Implied Parental Bullying, Bullying

Word Count: 2,817

A/N: The next few chapters will be longer, I promise. I only wanted to establish a few things before getting down to the nitty-gritty. Enjoy

|One| Two |Three|

“Impressive old man, you still have some juice left in you.” Cordell laughed wiping the sweat from his face. We’ve just finished a great morning run and we’re walking back to the house as our cool down. I usually run with Namjoon, but he had other plans this morning. So I asked Cordell if he would mind accompany me. He said he wouldn’t mind at all. There was an old walking trail behind the house that I run every morning. It starts at our big Oak Tree and continues on all over the property. I teased him the whole walk to the tree about how I’d go easy on. The second we got to our starting mark Cordell left me in his dust. “I haven’t run that much since my high school track team.” He threw his towel over his shoulder.

“You ran?”

“Did I? I was the MVP on my team. Cordell “Road Runner” Louis was what they use to call me.” “Wow. Maybe you can give me some of your tips?” I asked. He opened the back door for me. “I would be delighted to. First Tip, breathe through your nose. You wind yourself faster breathing through your mouth and end up look like a panting dog.” I laughed walking through the door. “That explains a lo-mom? What are you doing home?” My mother heads eyes widened at the sight of me. “Button, what are you doing home? I thought you had class this morning?” She was sitting at the kitchen table with three other women be around her. A tea kettle whistle on the stove. “I’ll get that for you madam.” Cordell ran over to it. “It’s Thursday, no class remember.” “Oh yes, right. I still thought you’d be there studying.” I rolled my eyes, “I was going after my run with Cordell.” “I’m sorry, what’s his name?” Mom raised her eyebrow at me. “Cordell.” I defied her. “It’s Louis, madam.” He came over to the table to pour them all a cup of tea. “I am your butler and you will address me as such.” He repeated the stupid rule to me she made him enforce when she couldn’t get me to call him by his last name herself. I didn’t follow it then and I will not follow it now. “No your name is Cordell, and you’re more to me than my butler. You're my friend.” He shook his head at me for not to press. The three women snickered. “Tara you actually allow your daughter to be friends with the help?” Cordell paused for a second at the hurtful remark against him and then continued to service them. “The smelly help at that.” Another covered her nose. Cordell sat the kettle down, “I apologize madams. I shall freshen up at once.” “No, please rest. You just finished running.” A unison of scoffs sounded from all of them but my mother. Her mouth remained closed in a twisted snare. “He will not. Cordell, go up to your room and bathe. I will not have you dripping your sweat on my guest.” “Yes ma’am, excuse me, ladies.” Cordell faced me, “Madam.” He took off, “Cordell wait!” I ran off behind him. “Honestly, Tara,” the only lady that hadn’t said anything spoke up. “If this is how your daughter is going to act I don’t think I want her marrying my Markus.”

My feet stopped involuntarily, I almost fell. I snatched my head back toward my mother and her bitchy friends. “Excuse me? What did she just say?” “Button...” “Don’t Button me.” I spat. “What did she just say?” I walked slowly back over to them. The lady faced me with her expressionless face from Botox. “I said If this is how you behave, you know being friends with the unimportant and caring for their feelings,” she waves in the direction Cordell just went in, “then  I don’t want you marrying my son.” I couldn’t process her words, how’d we get here? Did I miss something? “Your son? Mom, what is she talking about? Who is your son?” I looked back and forth between the two.  My brain was running a million miles. The lady turned to my mother, “You haven’t told her? Come now, Tara.” “I wanted them to meet before telling her everything, Karen.” Mom glared at the Karen lady. “What a more perfect time than now.” Karen smiled at me. “Tell me what?” Mom sighed, “Come next November, you will be Mrs. Markus Tuan.”

My door swung open at Yoongi’s necessary force. A good thing too, I was out of it for so long I almost burned off a piece of the motherboard I was soldering. I work part-time as the other half of a two-person cleaning crew at a private medical facility. The times I’m not working there I’m working right from home fixing people’s laptops and phones.

“Can’t you knock?” I scoffed. Yoongi stared at me with a straight face. “Don’t even,” he closed the door behind him. “Are we going to talk about this?” He asked. “No cause there’s nothing to talk about it,” I said, screwing in the motherboard. No harm came to it. “Let’s not turn this into some episode of Full House where something is bothering one of the characters and they lie by saying, “there’s nothing to talk about,” when we all know there is. I, your best friend, just found out your dead mother is actually alive, seems like something to talk about to me.” “Where’s everyone? It sounds pretty quiet in here.” “I made them leave so we could talk.” “Did Kookie and Tae eat all the meat?” “I don’t know. Why is that important right now?” I placed one of my customer’s laptops back on the shelf with the other finished ones. I grabbed my dinner plate off the dresser next to it. I came back to my room to finish my dinner after the whole incident in the kitchen. Once I was done eating I finished up a repair I got in yesterday. “I want more, Jungkook was right that meat really was good. I should cook it like that more often, huh?” I walked out of my room. Yoongi was so hot on my tail I just knew at any moment he’d step on my heel. Luckily he didn’t. I took the lid off the pot, “It’s about gone! Those pigs. I knew I should have put some up.” “Y/N forget about the meat and talk to me!” I turned my back grabbing a spoon to scoop what little was left in the pan. Yoongi got so fed up he pushed the pan off its island and onto the floor. “Fine, you don’t want to talk to me? Don’t! Enjoy your precious meat!” I will. He’s insane if he thinks I won’t pick this food off the floor and still eat it. Yoongi was so mad at me he didn't speak to me for the rest of the night, he didn’t even stick his head in my room to say goodnight like he usually does before going back to bed.

The next day I guess he had a change of heart. I was picking my little sister, Micah, up from dance practice like I do every Tuesday and I got a text from Yoongi. I was in the waiting room with the other parents when my phone tinged.

 [ Rosemary’s Baby] I get it Y/N. Obviously discussing your mother is a touchy subject and you aren’t ready to talk about her. I get it. So please take all the time you need.

 [Me] Thanks

 [Rosemary’s Baby] No Problem

 [ Rosemary’s Baby] All I’m saying is things like this take time, so take all the time you need. I’m here for you when you’re ready to talk.

 [Me]Nice to know.

 [ Rosemary’s Baby] Fuck this nice shit!

 [Rosemary’s Baby] Tell me what the fuck is going on you bag of dicks

 [Me] I like nice Yoongi better

 [ Rosemary’s Baby] He’s dead

 [Me] How sad. He was so young.

 [Rosemary’s Baby] : Y/n!!!!

 [Me]: Can we have tacos for dinner tonight?

He didn’t text back. Good, I didn’t have time for Yoongi right now. I needed to speak with the person I knew was responsible for causing all of this. My father. I arrived at my dad’s place to find him cutting the grass one last time before all of it completely died for the fall. Daddy!” Micah screamed as she jumped out of my car. “Hey, angel!” He turned the lawn mower off and scooped her up in his arms. I chuckled walking up the driveway, carrying Micah’s book a lunch bag. “Daddy look my tooth fell out today?” Micah opened her mouth to show her missing baby tooth at the bottom. “Look at that. You know what that means right?” “Yeah, I get my big girl teeth!” “And it means you get a visit from the tooth fairy tonight!” Dad exclaimed. “Really?” She jumped around in his arms. “Yup, and he’s going to bring you lots of money! But only if you put your tooth under your pillow, where is it?” “Right here,” I said, going through her book bag.  I felt around for the giant fake tooth, “Here you go.” I handed to her. “Thank you Y/N!” Micah motioned for me to get down. I got down on my knee so I was about her height. She gave me a small peck on my cheek before prancing off into the house. Dad came over and gave me a kiss on the head, we exchanged quiet heys. “She’s extra hype today. You didn’t by chance take her for ice cream after dance practice did you, I mean it would explain why you two are an hour late.” He sat down on the porch steps. I took the spot beside him. “I might have.” He hung his head low, “Noooo. She’ll be bouncing off the walls for hours.”

“Consider it your punishment.” “Punishment for what?” He drank from his water bottle. “I got a letter from mom and I know you had something to do with it, please don’t  deny it.” A small part of me hoped he would. “I’m not gonna deny it.”He took another swig. I put my head in between my legs, groaning.

“Look I know you're upset-“ “Upset? We’re way past upset, I’m livid! When did you regain contact with her?” “We never lost it Y/N.” He sighed. “What!” I jumped up. He stood up and grabbed the lawn mower. I walked beside him as he pushed it back to the shed. “We have a child together Y/N, I can’t completely cut her out of my life. Like you.”

I gawked at him, I’ve never thought to swear or called my dad out of his name but today might be the day. “Well, I guess I didn’t really remove her from my life entirely since you’ve been communicating with her all these years then, huh? And really, you have a child together? Dad please, I’m an adult over the age of 18.  You and mom- “Are still your parents at the end of the day no matter your age. I wouldn’t be setting the best example for you if I completely cut your mother out of my life.” He slightly struggled to get the lawn mower up the steep ramp he built. I held the shed door wider for him to ease his struggle although it would be tempting to slam it shut. I’m very angry with him. I’ve never been this mad with my dad in my entire life. “That woman cares for no one's well being but her own, if she cared so much about me she wouldn’t have made my life growing up a living hell. She wouldn’t have to try to marry me off to some stranger or she wouldn’t have bribed a judge to get full custody me. You remember? You got one lousy hour with me, and that was still too much for her.” “I remember Y/N.” He said voice strained as he pushed the power tool. “Then why would you tell her where I am? Why give her what she wants, knowing she wouldn’t do it for you?  He finally got the lawnmower to go in. He grabbed the door from me and closed it. “She’s always known where you’ve been Y/N. Your mother called me an hour after you arrived at our old house back in (whatever your hometown is). Before she asked about you she gave a dry congratulations on me marrying your step-mother earlier that week. Her exact words were, “Congrats, I hope you’ve grown up to be a real man and treat her better than you treated me.” I asked her what she wanted, she asked were you with me. I said yes.” I sighed heavily turning my head the other way. “I denied her request “ he grabbed my cheek to make me look at him, “for me to bring you back. She snuck some snarky comment in about me being too busy trying to start a new family and said she’d have your butler come and get you. At that point I completely lost it, I told her to get over herself and not to contact you or me unless it was important. Baby, I am not communicating with your mother like that. She has my number an I have hers, it’s only in case something happens and something did. Your mother is really sick.” “...With what?” “I can’t tell you, she wants to be the one who tells you. Make sure you overpack, you never know how long you might have to stay. “What you're making me go?” He shook his head, “No you’re an adult, I can’t make you do anything you don’t wanna do. What I can do is expect you to make the right decision.” Dad patted my shoulder and walked past me.

“Daddddddd,” I stomped.

A car door slammed shut, I turned to see Laurie getting out the car with bags of takeout in her hand. “What are you doing home so early? I thought you wouldn’t be home for hours?” Dad went over to take some of the food from her. “Everything went faster than we expected so our boss let us our early.” She gave my dad a kiss.

“Great, cause Micah is on a sugar high.” Dad nodded at me. I smacked his arm, “She’ll crash soon. It was only a small chocolate cone. Hey Laurie.” I embraced her into a hug.

“Hi, baby! Are you staying for dinner?”

“No, I just came to drop Micah off and to speak with dad.” She made an ‘O’ face, “You told her about her mom?” “No, she got the letter,” Dad said.

“Time out, Laurie you knew?” She cheekily smiled, “Guilty. I’m sorry love.” I couldn’t be mad at her, it wasn’t her place to say anything. “It’s okay. I understand. Well, I’ll talk to you guys later.” “Wait, don’t forget your food.” She handed me a bag with two big crates of food. “I got Yoongi one too. Lamb skewers right?” “Yup. Hopefully, he eats it.” “That boy is going fade away into nothing, let me guess he’s too tired to eat?” She placed her hand on her hip. “That and he’s sorta kinda mad at me. He might not take any food I give him just to get back at me.” “Why is he’s mad at you?” Dad asked. “Long story, tell you about it later. I gotta go, but thank you and see you guys later. Tell Micah I want half of her money from the tooth fairy!” Laurie screamed about Micah losing her tooth before excitedly running into the house, shoving all her bags dad’s way. I laughed before driving off. The lights were on when I got home. Yoongi must be home. My assumption was correct, the sound of his keyboard could be heard faintly through his bedroom door. I laid the food down on the counter and made my way to his room. I didn’t bother knocking, I just walked in to find Yoongi hunched up at his desk. He turned to me startled. “Jesus Y/N- “My mom is a dictator in a skirt. She has to control everything and everyone around her. If you tried to go up against her she’d do everything in her power to destroy you. Which is why my dad divorced her, he couldn’t handle her intense personality anymore. When my mother no longer had my dad under her thumb she pinned me down and focused all her time and energy into to me, making sure I was the perfect child. Not for me or my future but so my dad knew that she was responsible for my success, not him. She wanted him to see we didn’t need him, especially me because I had her. To make sure I only had her she filed for full custody and won, I was no longer in hell. I was under it-

“What are you doing?” He interrupted.

“Telling you about my mother and my life with her like you wanted,” I said.

“No you’re not, you’re summarizing about your mother and your life with her. That’s not how this works Y/N and you know it.” He chuckled. “I want the entire story from start to finish and I want the long version.” Yoongi got up from his desk and walked over to his bed and laid down. He patted the spot beside him. This is going to be a long night.

[archive-hive]

Man, it’s a hot one.

By the time dusk unfurls upon Última Bebida’s gabled roof, ornate onyx tendrils pouring like molasses through airbrushed slats, the venue is alive with activity. It bleeds through stained glass in a flourish of finely-tuned guitars and amplified castanets, the intricate figurines painted upon the woodwork seeming to grin, thrilled, as fanciful percussion spills out amidst the crisp springtime atmosphere.

Michael’s skin burns pleasantly as he guides his companions toward the large crimson doorways, familiarity striking against his ribcage like raw timber and sandalwood; a genetic link to a world he has never been allowed to fully submerge himself within.

“This, um.. Th-This looks really cool, M-Micah.” Jeremy grins, utterly breathless. Jake’s arms braid themselves around his boyfriend’s fluttering abdomen, his lips leaving crimson bouquets amidst stark goosebumps as they pave his skin in platinum.

“Yeah, dude. Looks capital ‘TH’ sick!” Rich’s tongue presses flush against the backs of his teeth, exaggerating his lisp considerably. His arms swing wildly from side to side, uncertain of where to place his boundless energy. Michael’s dark fingertips brush against his own with every fluctuation backwards, curling in search of something warm but never quite getting there.

Michael laughs, his thumb bracketing against rough denim in search of the moulded canister tucked safely away inside his pocket - a mere crutch, a safety net in case his lungs inflate beyond their capability. Every time Rich’s hand collides with his own, his skin unfathomably cool, he finds himself tiptoeing closer and closer to his ultimate, monumental downfall.

“Yeah, well I hope we all have a super thhick time tonig-”

A broad hand presses against Michael’s chest before they can enter the building. The entity stood before them, with muscles as grotesquely developed as dimebags stuffed underneath his discolored skin, and features rougher than sandpaper on soil, spares a second to look Michael up and down before scowling disapprovingly.

“I’m gonna need to see some sort of ID, fellas.”

All colour drains from Michael’s face. He certainly hadn’t planned for any impromptu carding, his fake ID hidden at the bottom of an inconspicuous paper bag along with shards of torn tissue paper and the empty blister packs which had once housed his new ‘companion.’

“Um…” Michael rasps, squeezing against his inhaler with a little more gusto. “I’m a friend of the owner? He invited me here personally.”

“Name?”

“Michael. Michael Mell.”

All at once, the bouncer’s expression softens into something more palatable. His brows diffuse upon his forehead and his arm extends into a recognized gesture of hospitality.

“Ah, yes, he’s been expecting you, Mell. Sorry about the inconvenience. Are they all with you?”

It’s a simple phrase, an effortless string of vowels and consonants, and yet the inflection of that mundane three-letter word is enough to make Michael’s eyes burn underneath his contacts. All. As in more than just he and Jeremy. The dynamic duo plus two - the questionable quintet.

He nods three times in rapid succession and wordlessly contemplates the sustainability of his eyeshadow in the wake of unexpected dewdrops contaminating his vision.

Their guide leads them to a beautiful, large booth situated just adjacent to the varnished dance floor. Plump cushions are swathed in emerald velvet, two vanilla-scented candles placed at the centre of the table crackling prettily within their scarlet tumblers, and a hand-illustrated note lays beside a single scarlet rose.  The penmanship is an unmistakably crisp portrayal of calligraphy which invites Michael to have a wonderful evening.

“Holy shit, Mikey, you boning this guy?” Rich whistles, trying to keep poison ivy from belittling his tone. “Cos if you ain’t then you should. He’d probably buy you a yacht or somethin’!”

“Not boning, no. Though I think a yacht would look fabulous in my driveway. What ya think, Jer?”

Jeremy laughs breathlessly, sliding his body underneath airbrushed mahogany alongside Jake, who, in turn, returns Jeremy to his spacious embrace without a moment’s delay.

“Oh y-yeah, dude. N-Nothing says ‘go g-getter’ like a um… a grandiose y-yacht parked n-next to a sh-shitty little PT Cruiser.”

Michael opens his mouth to argue, tongue rolling against an unabridged declaration of love for his less-than-glamorous vehicle and all of those unique ticks and quirks which makes her so majestic, only to pause whenever Jake’s lips wrap around Jeremy’s earlobe. He’s reciting exquisite poetry against supple cartilage, his teeth punctuating every sentence until Jeremy himself has begun to sing.

It is a battle Michael has already lost.

And so, he chooses to slide in against Rich and his natural radiance. Rich slots his arm through Michael’s elbow in an action which could be deemed as nothing short of platonic but, fuck, if it doesn’t make Michael’s diaphragm flourish with the same intense rush of endorphins as slicing his nail through fragile plastic wrapping to retrieve his new game. Only this moment has no shelf-life, only visual gratification every time Michael’s fingertips find themselves wandering beneath the crease of his stomach.

“So you know the owner, huh? How fanshy~”

Michael’s eyes dart toward the feminine curvature of the salt-shaker taking centre-stage in the middle of the table and wills any and all colour away from his cheeks. Rich is just so handsome that it makes his jaw ache.

“Yeah, he’s a customer of mine. A cool dude.”

“A customer? Just what kind of things are you selling, young man?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Rich clasps his hands together, resting his chin upon mountainous knuckles and fluttering his lashes as though they were amber sails swallowing every tantalizing breeze. “I sure would!”

“Get a r-room!” Jeremy catcalls, his head rolling back to rest on Jake’s solid shoulder. His torso is a patchwork of dyed cotton and articulate fingertips, one hand blossoming upon his ribcage while the other autographs his collarbone.

The hypocrisy is tantalizing.

Michael’s tongue protrudes from his lips in a fluid, stabbing motion of pure petulence, but his hand extends across the table to link with Jeremy’s own. He squeezes Jeremy’s digits gently, affectionately, his thumb painting invisible heartbeats across candied veins.

“P-People are gonna l-look at us, um, f-funny. Think we’re in an o-orgy.”

“Wait, we’re not having an orgy?” Rich pouts. “I was promised a fun night!”

Michael reaches over to grab at one of the laminated menus held in place by monogrammed napkins. “I mean, I’d be down but I only wanna screw 2 people here, so…”

Jake lifts his head from Jeremy’s sweet, buttermilk throat to raise a disapproving eyebrow. He licks his lips as though to savor the very flavour of Jeremy’s skin, how it has been stippled in cologne and residual ash from freshly-rolled joints.

“Good. Feeling is mutual.”

Rich’s nostrils flare against a rather emphatic snort, his fingertips an inadequate partition around his lips as he turns toward Jeremy. “They definitely wanna fuck.”

“O-Oh for sure.”

Bouncing precariously upon narrow crimson heels, and with the folds of her skirt flouncing prettily in time with every decibel reverberating unequivocally from a camouflaged sound-system, a fair-faced waitress approaches their booth with a quartet of spicy-sweet margaritas, each with their own lemon wedge and an unnecessarily foreign parasol.

“Here you are, gentlemen!”

Michael watches, puzzled, as she divides the glasses between their modest group. “Oh, uh. I’m sorry, Miss, but we haven’t actually ordered anything, yet.”

She giggles politely, her fingertip worrying against the stylized ringlet plastered upon her brow. “Yes, I know, sweetheart. These are a gift from the owner!”

She gestures blindly behind her to the handsome figure tucked at the very back of the establishment. His narrow frame tilts at an obscure angle against the bar, cerulean eyes cutting acutely through a tapestry of unique bodies as they ooh and ahh over a myriad of extraterrestrial flavours, and he raises the large glass in his own hand as a sign of good will - a toast which has yet to pass between those narrow lips.

Michael grins, returning the gesture in kind, his lips glistening around a halo of himalayan salt as he allows himself to indulge on the sensation of caustic lime blistering his tongue and the tart counterpart of citrine liquer. The alcohol fizzles through the very synapses of his brain and instantly severs any sense he once held true - forever a lightweight when it comes to matters of an ethanol-related nature.

Jeremy is next to follow suit, his tongue pushing through a wave of ice and convoluted flavours.

But Rich does not drink. No, he’s simply staring across the table at Jake.

“Your friend is Atreyu?” Jake mumbles, using his thumbs to rotate his glass back and forth.

“Yeah! He sometimes gives me tattoos in exchange for weed. Why? You guys know him?”

“Nope, never heard of him.” Rich frowns, finally bringing his margarita to his lips after thoroughly surveying its contents.

-

Atreyu, as it turns out, is an exceptionally congenial host.

He had sent over another round of sharp, sacchariferous cocktails before they had even has the chance to finish their margaritas. Not long after that, they were being gifted a large heap of tortilla chips accompanied by a vast array of dips and sauces. There was even a complimentary shot of tequila with Michael’s name on it, a bonus donation for his role as guest of honour.

And, predictably, Michael had gotten trashed after a few measly mouthfuls of his inaugural concoction.

He scrapes a tortilla chip through a crisp line of guacamole and squeals in delight, teeth crunching against a fine smattering of seasalt, and smacks his lips in unrequited once he had polished the shard off.

“Esta mierda sabe tan bien!” He purrs, his body gravitating close to Rich’s side. “Eres tan guapo. Quiero lamerte.”

The sudden alteration in Michael’s vernacular leaves Rich thunderstruck. His eyes widen, a composition of dualtone oceans lapping hungrily against the sandstone shore of his cheekbones. “You speak Spanish?”

Michael tips himself down toward Rich’s mouth. “Síííííí~”

A mere millimeter separates their flesh, open-mouthed yearning heightened considerably by the scent of Michael’s blood rippling betwixt his watercolour veins. What he wouldn’t give to press his teeth in against his pulse, find a juncture of buttermilk skin to claim as his own, and play the boy as though he were wind-chimes left bashful from summer’s lingering caress.

But before he can act upon his voracious cravings, the pulsating music pouring through invisible speakers shifts into something new, an abrupt cacophony of drums and cadence and complex guitar riffs that has Michael leaping up onto his feet in utmost excitement.

“Holy shit, dude, I love this song!” He grins, clicking his fingers to the beat. “Come dance with me?”

Dipping his finger into a pool of marinated tomatoes and swirling it around, Rich shakes his head. “I appreciate the offer, but nobody wants to see my white ass pretending to have rhythm.” He pops his digit inside his mouth to suck it clean, wrapping his tongue over his knuckle and savouring the flavour as though it were the very plasma he finds himself lusting after.

“Oh, come on! Pleeeease?”

“Maybe in a little bit, dude. Go have fun.”

Michael’s lower lip unravels across his chin and fuck does Rich want to lick against him until he can taste summer upon that precious pout; pitted cherries and butterscotch icecream.

“Hey, Jer, do you wanna dan-”

Jake’s lips push across his boyfriend’s smooth, alabaster skin with a sense of urgency, moist tongue circling the sensitive patch of nerve-endings which illuminate his pulse. Jeremy mewls with every expressive brushstroke, and his fingertips tear miniscule holes inside his napkin from how tightly he grabs against the table.

Michael’s lashes crimp in mild annoyance, but he doesn’t dwell on the sensation for particularly long. Insead he ensnares his fingertips around his glass and brings it up toward his lips, polishing off what remains of his sangria.

With a newfound sense of galvanized vitality, Michael’s hips careen from side to side as he takes to the dance floor. He gravitates toward its centre, a polychromatic moth hypnotized by dynamic incandescence. His hand draws upward, dragging vertically from the centre of his belt across and across onyx buttons to rest upon his own throat, thumbs hooked into sugar-spun plastic to withdraw his choker and snap it back into place.

He moans in masochistic bliss, but the sound quickly dissolves when he stirs his pelvis in tandem with a husky vocabulary and a beat which plays to his mislaid heritage. His hands hover above his head, lock themselves in place, his body swivelling from side to side every time Carlos Santana’s digits caress individually woven strings.

Tipping his head back, Michael brings his hands once more to the hem of his shirt. He elevates the material in a slow, deliberate motion, flashing his sweat-slicked mocha skin to the entire restaurant. And still his hips roll; pure, unadulterated calligraphy often concealed by crimson and an uprising of anxiety.  

Unsurprisingly, Jeremy’s focus has shifted from the earth-shattering sensation of Jake’s torturous incisors into the vision of his boyfriend owning the entire dancefloor. His orbiting hips are nothing short of celestial - claiming the beat with every fluid undulation.

With all of the grace of a famished feline, Michael glosses a fingertip down Rich’s structured mandible to rest upon his pronounced pout. He dusts away a few stray crumbs which glitter upon his lower lip and Rich has to really concentrate on centering himself lest he pull that callous-roughened pointer straight into his mouth; oral fixation at it’s finest.

“Holy shit!” Rich breathes, the contours of his own pelvis beginning to quiver and quake. He pulls against his cargo shorts to readjust himself, his packer slick from his own arousal and falling out of alignment.

Jeremy giggles. “I-I think Rich has a um… a boner, don’t y-you?”

However, when Jeremy tilts his head backwards to glance at Jake his lover’s attention is directed somewhere else. His pupils are dilated, periwinkle skies lost to the captivating toxicity of a solar eclipse, and his mouth quivers in perfect unison with his short, shallow breaths.

Jeremy can barely contain his exuberant delight, pressing a stream of kisses along the underside of Jake’s impossibly taut jawline. “He’s really sexy, isn’t he?”

Jake nods, his fingertips flexing against the silken grooves of Jeremy’s airbrushed abdomen.

Michael’s performance comes to an end far too quickly. At least, that’s the unanimous consensus for everyone at his table.

He brushes his hands through an abundance of slick, curlicue ringlets and recalibrates the orientation of his shirt. There is an insurgency of power radiating inside of his sternum, primal, a sensation more extraordinary than a fresh hit of opiates infiltrating his bloodstream. He drapes himself down beside Rich with a happy little chirrup of accomplishment.

His palms brush over amaranth cheeks, thumbs dancing across a small bouquet of freckles peppered just underneath Rich’s twinkling eyes, and he pulls their mouths together to kiss him feverishly. Finally. Finally!

Rich tastes sharp, an aromatic combination of red wine and orange liqueur. Rich tastes sweet too, like sugar water and candy apples and every indulgent treat he has been fortunate to savour over his lifetime. But above all else he tastes like Rich.

And then they part once more.

Michael’s teeth clinking against an empty glass, his tongue curling toward the flavourful cubes beginning to thaw at the very bottom.

“Th-That was awesome, Micha!” Jeremy coos, his hand brushing over the back of Michael’s hand. “Y-You um.. Y-you looked so h-hot out there.”

“Whas I… Smooth?”

“Like b-butter, baby.” He pushes his elbow in toward Jake’s torso. “Jake c-couldn’t keep his eyes um... O-off of you!

Michael’s brow twitches upon his forehead as he regards Jake.

Jake shrugs, completely unashamed. “What can I say? I’m a hips and ass man.”

He presses his palms in against Jeremy’s pelvis and squeezes for good measure. Jeremy squeals in delight, his head resting once more across Jake’s chest.

“So the orgy is back on the table?” Rich grins, his cheeks stippled in crimson from the heat of Michael’s kiss.

“Absolutely.” Jake nods.

“I’m d-down!” Jeremy grins.

“Fuck yeah!” Michael purrs.

[thesmalltowngal]

COC Snowbaz 26- Gaining Love

COC #26: Missing/Deleted Scene

In sixth year, Simon arrives on Baz’s doorstep with nowhere else to go. Things ensue. 

~ Getting so close to the end. Almost there... I can make it! Anyway, I’m fairly happy with this one- let me know what you guys think. Enjoy! ~

“Someone is at the door,” Mordelia pokes her little head into my room to tell me. I glare at her. (Which is bloody hard when she’s still so young and cute- even I have a right soft spot for ankle-biters.)

“Knock,” I state simply. She giggles a bit and pretends to be irritated, but she goes out, closes the door and knocks cheerfully on my door. “You may enter.” I call out. She bounces back into my room. 

“Someone’s here to see you, Baz. Mummy sent me to tell you.” Probably Dev or Niall- although Niall lives a bit away and Dev usually calls to tell me he’s coming. 

“Thank you, Mordelia-” And as she’s turning to leave, I call back after her, “Do you know who it is?” She shakes her head back and forth quickly. We’re on Winter break in the middle of the school year- it’s snowing fucking cats and dogs out there. (I know fuck-all about that expression and less about cats or dogs- just that they taste well enough.) 

“No, but he’s got curly hair and he looks not very good.” I quirk an eyebrow, but she leaves after that, bouncing down along the hall with her infernal stuffed vampire.

I walk down the staircase, trying to look as though I’m not eager to see who’s at the door. And when I finally get down there, it seems that my eagerness was well bloody had. Because as I open my front door, I see Simon fucking Snow on my porch. (Not only covered in snow, but looking absolutely dead on his feet.) He’s got bruises and cuts all over his face, and he’s swaying on his feet- in ripped clothes nonetheless! (Also, dare I say it, he’s paler than I am.)

“Crowley- Snow?” I inquire. His eyes droop and he sways even more, visibly shuddering. (I should invite him in, now. But even though I’m right bloody worried, I’ve still a facade to maintain.)

“Didn’t have anywhere else t’go…” And he promptly faints into my arms. (In other circumstances I’d say he fell for me. Or perhaps was swooning.) I catch him more from surprise than anything. He sags in my arms and I hoist him up a bit, trying (and failing) to get him to stand up. I shut the door with my toe and finally give up, picking him up bridal style instead. (I’ll clean the mess in our entryway later- father will be mad, but perhaps he’ll understand when I explain.)

I take Simon (I can only call him that in my head; one of the simpler pleasures and tortures in life) to my room, not minding the dirt and snow that trails behind us along the way. I pile him on top of my bed and shut my door. (Completely disregarding father’s rule about closed doors when boys are over.) He’s still out and I decide to assess the situation while I can. 

I can’t quite get my god forsaken mind to move on from the fact that Simon Snow came to my house willingly. He’s in my house. In my bed. Granted, it’s under different circumstances than I’d typically like… But anyway. He’s pale and roughed up and it seems like he’s about to go off even as he’s out. I know I don’t have much time to fix things before he gets up, so I grab my wand and hastily get to work. 

First I take his shirt off. (Again, in a much different way than I’d like to.) There are bruises and cuts all over his freckle-splattered chest. I mend the cuts and watch them heal before trying my best to heal the bruises. Some but not all go away. Then I spell off his trousers, leaving him in only his pants. (He’s bloody gorgeous, unsurprisingly. We haven’t undressed in front of each other before- this is the first I’ve witnessed the near full of his angelicness.) I mend the cuts and bruises there, too. Before I do anything else, I Clean as a Whistle the mess he made coming in so I won’t get yelled at later. (Perhaps I still will, the Chosen being a new houseguest, now.) 

Finally, I put a pair of trackie bottoms on him, but leave his shirt off, instead pulling a blanket over his shoulders. But not long after I do that, he starts to come to. (I allow myself one more soft look at him before cooling my expression into a harder one.) He finally opens his eyes and looks around, startling as he sees me. He scrunches his eyebrows as his surroundings sink in. 

“Baz?” 

“Yes, Snow?”

“Am I in-”

“The Pitch manor? Yes. My room? Yes. Tainting my sheets and dragging mud in my home. Also fucking yes, you twat.” He sighs, but he must be really roughed up, because he’s not responding to any of my insults as per usual. 

“Did you… er, did you clean me?” My bottoms hang loosely on him, as ill-fitting as the rest of his clothes.

“Magic- dead from the neck up, Snow? Crowley. What happened to you?” I mean it to come out as an insult, but I’m hoping he’ll really answer me because I’m worried. Because I’m an utter disappointment to myself and my family. Because I love him. He rolls his eyes a bit. (He still looks pale.)

“Well, I...er, I was on a mission from-”

“You’re precious mage?” He ignores me.

“-the mage, and I was fighting them - goblins, I mean - in the woods, but there were too many of them.”

“Bunce wasn’t with you?” I sound bored. I’m anything but. 

“No, she’s down in the states to visit Micah for Christmas.”

“What about Wellbelove?” I spit her name like it burns my mouth. (It might as well- it sure bloody feels like it, sometimes.) He looks away, flushed. (I’m glad he’s getting colour back.)

“We, uh… well, Baz, I just didn’t have anywhere else to go, okay?” I nod my head and we sit in silence for a moment, before Simon speaks again. (For someone who has trouble speaking, he never does seem to bloody stop.) “S’pose I should thank you for… helping?” I sneer at him. 

“S’pose you should, Snow.” He stares at me for a moment, which makes me blush. (I just fed recently- damn the squirrels.)

“Thanks, Baz. I just… it felt like I was gonna die, y’know?” For a time, we’re sat there quietly, no hostility in the air. I nod softly, without quite realizing I’m doing it. 

“Yeah…” I respond. I’m suddenly acutely aware of how close we’re sitting to each other. I can feel his heat radiating off of him. I’m so cold. (I read once that cold was just the absence of heat- things can always gain heat. Which made me think hate- our hate - was just love not yet found. I used to think we could gain love. That I could make it happen, somehow. I was being right crackers.) “Are you hurting?” I wanted to spit at him. I wanted to yell and curse at him and tell him to not be such a dumbarse- to be more careful and always call if he needed help. (I should’ve yelled. It would have gotten a more usual reaction than what my question did.) He raises his eyebrows in surprise and doesn’t say anything for a second.

Just when I think he’s gone mute, he says, “No, I’m… I’m fine- thanks. Thanks for, um. Everything…” He trails off (I hate it when he does that) and we’re sat in the deafening silence again. For a second I think he’s leaning towards me. (I’m definitely leaning towards him, even if it is subconscious.) Then I figure it’s just my bloody imagination playing tricks. (Then I’m not so sure.) And just as we’re getting closer and closer, I feel more and more like I’m going to combust. Catch fire. Whether it’s because he lights my soul, my heart, my dick on fire - whatever poetic shit you may have - or because of the heat radiating off of him… I could burst at any moment. 

“Simon-” I mutter, because I’ve got nothing else to say. I look at his (extra)ordinary blue eyes and I swear they flick down to my lips, just for a fraction of a second. And just as I think something is about to happen…

Mordelia pounces into my room and we spring apart like we’ve been caught doing something. (I’m not so sure we haven’t… hope is a bloody bitch.) She cocks her head to one side and smiles her toothy (perhaps not toothy- she’s lost a few in the front) grin at us. “Mum says there’s a man here to pick up the boy with the curls.” I school my expression again and smile a bit at her. It’s tight-lipped and closed. 

“What have I said about knocking, Mordelia?” She just shrugs and walks out of my room. Almost immediately, Simon jumps out of the bed and throws on one of my sweatshirts hanging over my chair absentmindedly. (Seeing him in my clothes is doing things that it shouldn’t to me.) It’s like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. 

He’s turning to leave, tripping over his feet and blushing when he turns back to look awkwardly at me. “Er- thanks, Baz. For, um. Y’know.” I roll my eyes and give him one curt nod. He hesitates at the door like he’s going to say something else, but then he decides against it and leaves to go meet his precious mage. (In my fucking house.) (I can hardly be bothered by that, though, as I allow myself to stare openly at Simon’s arse in my trackie bottoms as he leaves. Another simple pleasure in life? That arse.) (I fucking hate myself.) As he’s leaving, I’m left wondering only one thing. 

What the fuck just happened?

[amirrorneverlies]

“Yeah…. This Was Awkward!” – Solo by Jacob

The week was weird as hell, #Jared disappeared again for another two days. Then he showed up in the middle of classes on Thursday. And I watched #Paul try to push him away, telling him he wasn’t supposed to be here. But Jay stayed, staring at #Kim like no one ever did. #Kim was sweet… shy. She was pretty I guess, or at least… not unattractive. Pretty enough to blend into Micah’s little flock. She didn’t like to surround herself with anyone that might get more attention than her. I watched her shoot #Kim daggers. I couldn’t help but feel a little protective. Why should she be singled out because a boy liked her, instead of the Queen B? It was stupid. Okay, so maybe that was a little harsh on Micah… I mean she was just a sixteen-year-old girl too. Our school wasn’t like other American high schools. Ditching class wasn’t easy. Most of our lessons were in the same room. Other than classes that required special equipment, cutting a single class in a day was difficult. That’s why I thought it was strange when #Jared and #Kim never showed for science. It was across what they called the quad but really it was an old parking lot with a few benches and tables. When we were on our way back to our main classroom #Quil, #Embry and I wondered aloud what was going on. #Embry pulled his jacket on and huffed loudly. It hit him about two inches above his wrist. “Stealing your Mom’s clothes again ‘Bry?” I laughed, he scowled back at me. “I only bought this thing two weeks ago.” He insisted, tugging the sleeve down like it would magically add fabric. “Maybe Momma T washed it and it shrank?” I mused out loud. He scowled again. His recent growth spurt was more noticeable than mine. He must be six-two now. “Did you hear that?” He asked glancing to the side of the school building, his foot hovering over the bottom step. I shrugged because all I heard was the clock ticking, about to make us late for history. His eyes narrowed and he cocked his head like a dog did when you squeaked a toy. And then he shot around the side of the building. “Not it!!” #Quil raised his hands. “If I’m late for another class this month I’ll get a Saturday detention!” He disappeared inside; leaving me to deal with whatever grabbed his attention. The boy had the attention span of a goldfish. I moved more slowly around the side of the building, and I was completely frozen by the sight in front of me. #Embry seemed less frozen and more like he was about to punch #Jared in the face. Who was crouched on the ground holding a seemingly unconscious #KimberlyConweller propped against his bent knee. “What the hell did you do!?” #Embry yelled. Jay actually looked afraid. “Nothing!” He breathed back. “She… just… I think she fainted.” “People don’t just faint for no reason.” I pushed past #Embry, who was far too angry… did he even know Kim’s name? I crouched next to the two of them and touched the back of my hand to her cheek. “She’s really warm.” #Jared slammed his hand into my shoulder and gripped my jacket, pushing me back. #Embry yelled again “Hey!!” and he made like he was about to attack #Jared, but #Kim was still between them. I stood up and blocked #Embry faster than I ever moved before. “Embry! Chill out!” I glared at him. “This is #Jay… you’ve known him your whole life. Think about it.” I pushed him back a step, he didn’t fight it. “Do you think he hurt her? Really?” He looked away, ashamed. “Go get Mrs Wilde.” “What happened?” I turned back to Jay. “Nothing I swear… I kissed her…” His mouth hung open for a second. “I just… and then boom! She went down.” My brows shot up. Wow… really? “D-Did she want you to kiss her?” I asked still stunned. And #Jared’s terror was back. “Shit! Do you think…?” He was wide-eyed now. “I mean… I thought... Fuck!” #Kim stirred and her eyes fluttered open with a little whimper. She was pale, and she looked up at Jay first, then me and stiffened. “What—“ She started. “I think you fainted.” #Jared had a relief on his face I had never seen before. The girl clamped both hands over her mouth. “Oh no!” She almost wailed, her face

flooded with too much colour now. “Spirits no!” She was embarrassed. I helped #Jared lift her to her feet now; just as Mrs Wilde came around the corner. ***** I sat in the cab with #Kim. Mrs Wilde had asked her who she’d like to take her home since both of her parents were working. I wasn’t sure why she’d picked me… mortification, I expected. I was instructed to stay with her until her Mom got home and make sure she ate something. It was awkward. I never had more than a polite conversation with her before this. Why couldn’t she have asked for one of the girls? I sighed, that wasn’t polite. “I’m sorry, Jacob. I’m sure you’ve better things to do.” She must have heard my sigh. Now I was rude on top of it. “It’s no trouble… And hey… You got me out of history.” I offered her a genuine smile. The cab was already paid, so I walked her to her door and the driver left. She unlocked the door and turned to me. “Thanks… I… um… I’ll be fine now.” She went to step inside and I cleared my throat. “I’m supposed to wait with you.” Yeah... This was awkward. “Oh! Really, you don’t have to. Mom is on her way.” “I know… but Mrs Wilde is kinda my dad’s cousin and…” Lie. I was not having a good day. She was like my Mom’s second cousin or something but I hated the looks I got when I talked about her. “Oh.” She chewed her fingernails and pushed the door open wider for me. #Kim dropped her bag in the hall and slumped onto a chair in the kitchen. Burying her face in her hands and made exaggerated sobbing sounds that were so unlike real ones I didn’t worry. “I fainted!!” She whined and I was embarrassed for her now. “Jared Fucking Cameron kissed me and I fainted!!” So Jay was telling the truth… and clearly, she wanted him too. “Hey… I’m sure he took it as a compliment.” My jaw jutted to one side. That probably wasn’t as comforting as I thought it was. “He’s never going to talk to me again!!” I had no idea what I was meant to say to any of this.

[sunsetowns]

🥀 || hands up, feel okay. who’s heart should i break today?

Asya could just barely count the number of years he’s known Neirin within the span of his two hands. In retrospect, with all those years, Asya wanted to feel confident in admitting that when asked, he could say he knew Neirin pretty well.

“I didn’t know that you two were acquainted with each other,” Neirin had pressed the rim of his tea cup to his lips in thought — an action Asya was well aware of knowing that it was one Neirin would do when the wheels in his head were turning, when satisfied with a thought he wanted to speak out, Neirin would then press the tip of his fingers onto the frame of his glasses and push upwards. “You never spoke of him, and him never of you. So, color me surprised when I bring him over for lunch and your reaction was… well that.”

“When did you two even meet?” Asya had frowned, completely disregarding the majority of Neirin’s comments. “When you said you had started seeing someone, he was the last one I expected to walk in and see with you. He’s not even your…”

Asya’s sentence trailed off midway, his frown only seemingly getting deeper much to Neirin’s amazement.

With a brow arched, Neirin sighed, “Pray tell? Were you perhaps aiming to say that he was not my type? I wasn’t quite aware that it was something you paid attention to.”

A moment of silence stretched between the two, the buzzling of Tea’s inn filling the temporary uncomfortable gap that was snapped in half by another one of Neirin’s sighs, “I met him when he was very injured. Similarly to how I met you, actually. I simply took it upon myself to heal him and tend to his wounds, I wasn’t expecting anything to happen… it just did.”

He’s going to break your heart, Asya had bit down his bottom lip at the thought because perhaps he could’ve been wrong. Perhaps Micah would find himself also unexpectedly surprised to find himself falling in love with someone as composed as Neirin who could steer him clear of all warning signs Micah seemed to avoid in life, and in return, Micah could give Neirin a taste of freedom away from the life where his nose had to be buried in a book at all times.

The image of Wamu’s grinning face crossed Asya’s mind, and Asya felt a pang of pity. He wished it could have been his dreaming friend instead.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Asya also wanted to think that he was pretty confident as to how much he knew Micah as well. Though his years in knowing the other Witch were smaller, his knowledge felt a lot bigger than the span of years that were shared between the two.

“If you’re not going to be serious with him, then break up.” Asya had crossed his arms, beneath the surface of the table did his leg shake in an attempt to keep his frustration towards the situation composed. Micah pretended not to see the way the table shook, and Asya felt Quinn’s delicate hand rest on top of his clenched fist in response. “You two haven’t been dating for that long and you obviously didn’t hesitate to follow after someone you shouldn’t anymore the first chance you got.”

“It’s been months since he was gone and I haven’t seen him as much as you think I would have by now since he’s returned,” There was an edge to Micah’s voice that was dripping in defense. “How ‘bout you get off my ass over something that shouldn’t concern you, Kier. You don’t even know shit ‘bout how much Neirin matters to me or the peace I’ve made over blowing what I had with Nameless.”

Asya and Micah didn’t fight. Though their relationship from an outsider's perspective would paint the image of Micah having no respect for Asya and Asya not tolerating Micah’s entire existence, Micah and Asya did not fight.

“Perhaps it is best that we allow events to steer their course,” Quinn’s suggestion was soft spoken after Micah’s frustrated departure, there was a fragile atmosphere left behind in the room that she was much too cautious to shatter. “Neirin is rather smart, we can only wait it out along the ticking clock for one or the other to open their eyes, darling. They are grown witches, after all.”

At the time, Asya’s only response had been an exhausted sigh.

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Now, leaning against the metal rail of Micah’s balcony where the metal would leave an indented print within his forearms, Asya came to terms with the fact that perhaps he didn’t know anything as well as he thought he did.

“Why did you do it?” The cigar resting between Asya’s lips is halfway done, later on when he makes his way home will Sylvee cross his arms with a pout over the smell clinging to Asya’s jacket and the broken promise in which he swore to never pick one up again for the sake of his well being. “Your wedding is a month away, you know this, right?”

Silence is Asya’s only response for the second time over the course of the half hour he’s been here. When first arrived, Asya had taken the liberty to allow himself in with the spare key Micah had given him about two years ago. It was rarely used, in fact, this was probably the first time that Asya had ever used it at all though it would have remained untouched if it weren’t for the urgent situation at hand.

(“He was covered in thorns and bleeding,” Neirin’s voice was quiet from his end of the call when he had rung up at two in the morning, much to Asya’s dismay and heavy eyes, the sleep still clung to his eyelashes like weights urging his eyelids to close. “I’ve never seen him like that. I came home to him wiping a bloody needle on a napkin covered in seeds.”

There’s a sleepy murmur and an even sleepier hand tugging at Asya’s sweatpants in question over who it was on the phone. With a kiss to Sylvee’s forehead, Asya ushered him back to sleep because even the sun needed its rest before it got ready to shine for another day.

“His thorns hurt him when they wrap around him,” Asya eased out of bed where Snow’s head lifted in question from her spot on the foot of the bed. When receiving her own affection in the form of a gentle scratch behind her ears, did she purr in response and make her way towards Asya’s spot next to a once again sleeping Sylvee. “They also pop out when he’s extremely upset. Did he tell you anything at all? Did he say anything about the seeds?”

“No… He barely spoke to me while I was patching him up.” Neirin’s exhaustion was as heavy as his concern, perhaps he was reaching a breaking point himself. Asya could only hope as much that a change was to come before the end of this month. “I didn’t know what to do, so I just healed him and he’s been asleep since then.”

“Get some rest, Neirin.” Was the best Asya could offer to his friend, “I’ll check on him tomorrow, so just leave it to me.”)

“What were you expecting to achieve from going to his house? Did you think that by some miracle you’d find something different there?”

Asya’s frustration is a little more prominent the longer he carried on this one sided conversation. With more force than he needed to, he snuffed out the cigar with a squeal of protest from the tip of it over the fact that it was uncompleted.

“Micah, you surely cannot be this stupid. It’s been more than a damn year since you’ve been back and forth with this, what the hell are you thinking?”

“Are you done?” Micah’s voice rings sharp enough to slice through a person, it’s the first words he’s uttered over the course of an entire day and a half. “Yeah, I get it already, I’m an idiot. Yeah, I’m stupid! I’m the biggest fucking dumbass there is who still went off to the house of some shitty Witch one last time because guess what!? I’m also still so ridiculously in love with him! Is that what you’ve been wanting me to say from the start, Kier? Is that what you’ve been wanting me to admit so you could call me stupid over falling in love with some asshole and being unable to stop thinking of him!?”

Asya can only watch the strain Micah’s hair goes through when he runs his fingers through his hair in frustration and the thorns claw away at Micah’s hands and tug back on the strands of hair tangled with the sharp, wooden vines.

“He already told me he never gave a shit about me…” There’s a visible ache to Micah’s voice. At the sound of it, Asya isn’t sure if he wants to berate him further or wrap an arm around his shoulders. “I know I was stupid enough to hold on to hope that maybe he could love me back, that maybe before it was time for me to give him up for good… something would work out last minute between us.”

“... This isn’t the way to do it, Micah. This hasn’t been the way to do it from the start.” Asya settles on crossing his arms, he decides that despite Micah’s pain the best he could offer him was a talk instead of any form of physical comfort. The scabs resting on Micah’s cheek make him look away, Asya truly hated this. “I told you to break up with Neirin. I told you to speak up where you needed to instead — even if you got shot down. But what did you do in response? You ignored literally every bit of advice I could have offered you, as well as everyone else who tried talking to you, and forced a good handful of us into uncomfortable situations.”

Silence once again is Asya’s only response warranting a frustrated sigh and the tip of his fingers pressing roughly against the bridge of his nose, “You can’t marry him anymore, Micah. You’ve said it yourself, you’re still in love with another and that’s not right for Neirin. You can’t keep being with someone you don’t love.”

“I do love him.”

Micah scratched away at another scab located on his forearm, the dried blood clinging to his skin chipping off and spilling over to reveal a hole too deep. In an instant, blood poured over the cut and buried itself underneath Micah’s nails. Asya takes the moment to walk over and kneel down next to him, his hand taking hold of Micah’s wrist in order to pull his hand away, and urge him with tired eyes to keep talking.

“But not in the way that I should,” Micah continues.

“You love him,” Asya repeats, and Micah nods. “But you’re not in love with him.”

“No.” 

With one simple word, Asya feels the knot in his stomach unwind over the course of months that it has been there, making him sick with frustration, and worry, and tearing him from the inside out in two over the limbo in which he kept watching Micah and Neirin head down two different paths when one thought the other was following.

“I still can’t cancel the wedding…”

Asya’s breath of relief jams itself in his throat, his hold on Micah’s wrist tightens in response to the statement. He opens his mouth, but whatever protest Asya was ready to berate Micah with and enter another limbo of disagreement gets cut off the moment Neirin’s voice carries across the house and reaches them.

“Micah, have you been on the balcony all day?” Neirin’s head peeks out from behind the curtains that separated the inside of the house and the outside, his eyes widening behind the frame of his glasses in surprise over Asya’s kneeling form staring back at him and Micah’s gaze directed away from the both of them, “Hey, I would’ve thought you were home by now from your visit.”

“I had to stop a little later than planned,” Asya’s answers, the exhaustion on his face earning him a small, sympathetic smile from Neirin in silent understanding. “I’ll get out of your hair now, though. I need some fresh air anyways.”

Oh, but haven’t the two of you been out here the entire time? Neirin wants to speak up, but a quick glance at Micah continuously refusing to acknowledge both of their presence makes Neirin conclude that it was for the best to give Asya a break from whatever was going on before he arrived home.

“Give Sylvee my regards when you head home,” he followed Asya towards the front door. With Asya’s hand pausing on the door knob, Neirin tilted his head to the side to give him a moment and gather what it was that his friend wanted to say. Though, there was truly no need for Asya to speak of any advice he wished to give Neirin, it was in the course of last night that Neirin had already come up with his own conclusion as to what he had to do next. “It’s alright, Kier. You just head home, I’ll take care of things here.”

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“Did I ever tell you that when I first met you, I thought you were a blonde?”

The first sign of emotion crosses Micah’s face at Neirin’s comment, and Neirin resists the urge to smile up at him as his hands focus on his aura around Micah’s arm — there’s a small ache he can’t help but feel at all the cuts that appeared overnight.

“I don’t think I quite knew that your hair was green until Asya made a big deal over how I described you as blonde with equally golden eyes the first time I spoke of you to him.” Though the cuts heal from the outside, Neirin can still feel little gaps in Micah’s aura. He guesses it’s because of the seeds he caught sight of buried underneath a pile of bloody tissues — the smell of rusted iron had lifted up towards his nose the moment he removed the trash can lid off to deposit the soiled bandages that had been wrapped around Micah’s other arm. “I suppose there’s a lot we failed to properly know of each other before we started dating.”

“...Where are you going with this?”

Neirin’s lips draw into a thin line. Though the illogical side of him wishes to backtrack and laugh it off as nothing more than a walk down memory lane, a simple attempt and nothing more to get Micah to talk to him and cut to an end his streak of silence, Neirin’s logical side rules out the thought as quick as it comes.

“You don’t want to marry me, Micah.” Neirin glances up, and Micah flinches away, “Maybe you didn’t even want to be with me from the start.”

“Why are you doing this…?”

“I think it’s best that we do the healthiest thing for each other, and let one another go. I can’t keep chasing after you, if you keep refusing me, and maybe that was a sign that it was never meant to be,” Neirin’s hands pull away from Micah and the usual spin to his head after healing takes over him. It’s habit by now to reach over to the coffee table in front of them where a potted plant rests, where Neirin will gently touch the soil and the green plant resting within it will wither and die in exchange for his body to cleanse from its healing, “We’re much too different… The both of us. And though there is nothing wrong with not being similar, our difference only creates more strain instead of harmony.”

“You’ve had all this time to tell me all of this and you’re just letting me know now.” Bitterness in Micah’s voice was to be expected, it was so sharp, Neirin felt as if he could taste it on the roof of his mouth.

“We’re both at fault.”

“... I tried…”

“I know.”

“But it wasn’t enough.”

“No, I’m afraid it wasn’t.”

Micah pulled away farther from him and Neirin allowed him to. It was not in his place anymore to pour himself into comforting the Witch that was not seeking out his comfort. Though Neirin’s heart ached and was still full of love for the plant Witch in front of him that had withered the same way his plants did when Neirin would cleanse himself on them, he knew it was for the best to cut things off before they were both stuck in an unbalanced marriage where eventually they would grow to resent each other beyond repair.

“I will let all the invited guests know, you don’t have to worry over that.” Neirin kept speaking, his forearms coming to rest on his thighs in thought as his hands clasped together, “And I’ll start packing up my things to move back home with Tea. I’ll do my best to be quick so you won’t have me in your hair for too long.”

With every word, Neirin could only watch from the corner of his eye as Micah drew his legs up against his chest and wrapped his arms around them, face burying deep in his knees as more thorns sprouted around his body.

“I’ll keep healing you until it is my last day before moving out,” Neirin sighed, and the thorns grew slightly in size. “But afterwards, you must get some help, Micah.”

“I’m done talking about this.” Micah’s voice is muffled, “Do whatever you want. We’re done here.”

An attitude Neirin had more or less expected, one he’s seen times in the past whenever he would enter arguments with Micah in which they would discuss his status with the demonic Witch that had proved to hold a stronger tie towards Micah than Neirin had anticipated.

“Just one more thing,” Neirin chimed in after he had gathered all the first aid supplies and settled them back into the kit, “When I leave your home, I think it’s best if we also cut contact with each other. I’ll send Asya and Quinn to look after you once I’m gone, but I hope you understand it’s for the best that I keep my space away from you after everything that has happened.”

Silence is his only response, and Neirin sighs in understanding. From the outside of Micah’s house, thorned vines sprout outwards from the ground and begin to crawl against the outer walls.