#he’s such a posh fool i love him

[soup-sponge]

lockwood (about gravediggers): proper honest blokes, real salt of the earth george: you’ve never even spoken to them! lockwood: yeah, well, they’re a bit scary

[lorax-god1315]

Happy Holidays friendly fae folks

I’m watching The Living Daylights with my Dad. Very fun, I am becoming steadily more obsessed with the Bond franchise and I am ready for it (I’m also grateful that my Dad still wants to watch them with me even with my predictions on the plot and comments on characters. I think I’m funny but…)

I got an Aston Martin LEGO and olives as a present, so it’s nice that they know that my interest in Bond is recognised

As soon as Pushkin walked on in like You! I know you! (He’s in Star Trek) One of my favourite games is what’s that actor from?

Also loved seeing Felix again, he’s a funny little lad

[lostcherise]

Green Is the Color

pairing: jesse pinkman x f!reader

summary: Jesse - a friend, a roommate, a fool who's hopelessly in love with you. He did his best keeping his feelings on check, but it all unraveled after one night you brought a guy home. (this is based on a request by @madzzz0797 my lovely mutual)

warnings/tags: roommates!au, pining, jealousy, allusions to masturbation, light angst (if you squint, i really need to improve on that), jealous jesse, smut, oral (m and f receiving), p in v,

word count: 8,237 (i'm sorry?? don't know what happened there)

 Lady, lady love me, 'cause I love to lay here lazy.

Soft and distant singing was your alarm for the day, definitely a gentler sound than the angry robotic beeping of your digital alarm clock. A sleepy smile crept its way on your lips, your eyes still shut, and you snuggled deeper into the pillow with a content sigh. You rustled about a few more seconds beneath the covers, before you bravely opened your eyes and welcomed the warm glow of a sunny Sunday morning. 

We got everything we need right here and everything we need it's enough. Just so easy when the whole world fits inside of your arms. 

The singing grew louder as you made your way down the hallway to the kitchen, accompanied by some occasional clanking of utensils. Walking on your tiptoes, you tried your best to be as stealthy as possible, it was a rare occasion to get to listen to Jesse sing. Your smile grew, and you bit your bottom lip fighting the urge to laugh at him. Although he was off key at times, you somewhat enjoyed his singing voice; just as buttery smooth as always.

Like waking up too early, maybe we could sleep in. Make you banana pancakes, pretend like it's the weekend now. 

With his back still turned to you, he kept on singing, only interrupting himself for a celebratory 'yeah bitch' after successfully flipping a pancake into the air, to which you failed to contain your laugh, so much for stealth. 

"Shit," Jesse whipped his head back to look at you. So much for a greeting. "Good morning." he smiled, face a tomato red and quickly redirected his attention back on the stove and he really hoped you hadn't noticed the rosy hue adorning his cheeks. 

"Good morning," you smiled back at him. "How come you're cooking breakfast?" you peered over his shoulder, the pancake batter bubbling to life before Jesse flipped it to reveal the golden brown bottom. 

"It's my turn to make us breakfast for the weekend, remember?" Jesse noted the obvious, with a teasing raise of a brow. 

Realization hit you, sleep ridden eyes widening softly. "You're right." you bumped his shoulder with yours. 

You smiled at the little tradition you two had created a year ago, a year after living together as roommates. Each weekend you guys took turns to cook breakfast for one another. It had all started after you had seen Jesse cook for the first time,  what you later realized was his favorite choice of breakfast food - huevos rancheros. Initially, it had come as a shock to you, he really gave off the impression that he hardly knew how to boil an egg, which you also had admitted to him. And that's when he took it upon himself, as a personal challenge to prove himself and made it a house rule that you alternate cooking breakfast for each other on the weekends. 

"Banana pancakes on the menu today, m'lady." Jesse informed you in a fake posh accent. 

"God, you know your way around a lady's heart." you sighed, with a resting palm on your chest, and placed a quick peck on Jesse's cheek. Before he could even register what had just happened, you were already setting the fully stacked plate onto the small white worn down kitchen table, right next to the small kitchen stand that housed various appliances you had no room for in your guys' small kitchen . 

When you weren't looking, with your back turned to him while you set up the coffee maker, Jesse moved to graze the spot your lips had left their fiery mark on. His cheek still burned beneath his touch, even after one minute had passed- as if the blood coursing through his veins had suddenly transformed into molten lava burning him on the inside out. See, ever since you and Jesse had moved in together, he found himself in a rather sticky predicament. 

He was in love with you. And you didn't know. And mostly likely did not share the sentiment. And that's why he kept his mouth shut about it, and opted to suffer in silence. 

Even now to this day, two years after his big revelation, he was scared. Scared of how much he loved you, scared of how one day he'd wake up and decide that he would come clean, two years was a long time to keep to himself after all, and risk losing his most meaningful friendship yet.  It had been two years since that one night Jesse had come to surprise you at the end of a very tiring day of work and evening classes. He remembered how your brows were furrowed, while you hugged an oversized hoodie you had confiscated from Jesse's clean laundry two weeks prior, closer to you. Your head was hung low, and you were paying no mind to your surroundings, so much so that Jesse had to honk to get your attention. 

And the moment your mood shifted when you had noticed him, was the first time his heart swelled up in his chest. How a wide grin stretched on your face, and how you had jogged excitedly over to his beloved Monte Carlo. The second time was just minutes after you had gotten in and and he had suggested you drop by your favorite ice cream parlor for a much needed pick me up. Jesse took much pride in being able to read you so well and know what you need in an instant, and that's how he had come to the conclusion that night that we was falling for you at light speed. 

Deep down he knew that no good was bound to come out of this situation he had created for himself, but to his defense that wasn't entirely his fault; you had your part to play in this too. With the way your eyes twinkled when the sun shone just right during the golden hours of the day, the way they crinkled at the corners every time you laughed at a sorry attempt of a joke he would make, the way your nose would scrunch in distaste whenever you didn't like something, the way your plush lips pursed whenever you were deep in thought, the way your smell lingered on for just a few fleeting seconds whenever you would leave his side. You smelled like a mix of pears, oranges and jasmine, which in turn reminded him of being bundled up on the couch on a cozy autumn afternoon. And Jesse would be a liar to say that he didn't often dream of spending most of his days like that with you.  

A series of expletives left Jesse's mouth, which in turn had your attention. You whipped your head back, just in time to see a black disk being discarded into the bin. "Mmm, crispy." you mused, scrunching your face in mock delight with a shimy of your shoulders.

"Shut up." Jesse flipped you off, but the smile dancing on his lips showed no annoyance. 

With a playful eyeroll, you set two steaming cups of cheap drip coffe on the table. Jesse soon followed, a sugar jar on one hand and a bottle of maple syrup on the other. You stacked a couple of of pancakes onto your plate and proceeded to drizzle a bit of maple syrup on top, all the while Jesse threw in his fifth spoonful of sugar in his coffee. "I'm still surprised you have teeth." you quipped. 

"These bad boys?" Jesse bared his surprisingly straight pearly whites at you. "Nah, they've been through worse." he shrugged and proceeded to take a sip of his coffee flavored syrup with a hum. And he was right; he'd been four years sober and you couldn't be more proud of him. Although he hardly believed so himself, Jesse had really managed to turn his life around. Getting kicked out of his aunt's house at just 19 was the start of a long journey towards recovery for him. At first the path was lonely with a lot of setbacks. His first struggle: passing his SATs and getting accepted to college. That was when you had come into the picture and that was when the steep uphill towards the top was less bleak with you on his side. 

"That's why you should appreciate them more." you countered, left cheek all puffed and rounded, filled with sweet pillowy goodness that you washed down with bitter coffee, the contrasting flavors on your taste receptors sending happy signals to the neurons in your brain. Another bite, another appreciative hum that resembled a moan a little too much. With a quirk of a brow, you shot Jesse a quizzical look that fell unnoticed as he was too busy shoveling food in his mouth while fidgeting on his seat. 

What you did not know was that at that moment, Jesse was fighting his own personal hell; trying to get those sinful sounds of yours out of his head. You really had no business moaning over some banana pancakes, he wasn't even that great of a cook; you had to be exaggerating on purpose. If that was the case, then you had definitely gotten what you wanted. 

Oblivious, you continued eating, almost quietly. Almost. After every two bites or so, you'd sneakily slip a quiet moan that would have Jesse twitching in his pants. "You know what I think?" you asked, swallowing the last bite of your pancakes. "Ditch business," you pointed a fork at him, before grabbing another pancake from the now smaller stack. "Go to culinary school." To which you earned a disbelieving snort from him. 

"You know what I think?" it was Jesse's turn to ask you that. He leaned in, his eyes gleaming with something more as they studied your face and in those seconds you took the chance to drink him in too. The five o'clock shadow that accentuated his chiseled cheeks and jawline, his eyes; the bluest oceans you often found yourself helplessly drowning in, the way the corners of his lips quirked into a smirk. "You pretend you like my cooking so you can get in my pants." he teased, his tone lower than usual. 

"What would you do then?" you asked, surprising even yourself with your fowrward question. Part of you wouldn't mind if Jesse would brush it off entirely, pretend nothing was ever said, yet curiosity was eating at you from the inside. What would he do? What did you want him to do? It so seemed that Jesse was more dumbfounded at your brazeness, as he was a sputtering mess, wide eyes avoiding yours entirely, seemingly more focused on finishing his breakfast. Surprisingly so, another small part of you grew disappointed as seconds ticked by and Jesse remained silent, downing the last sip of his now lukewarm coffee. 

"Gonna hit the, uh," he paused to clear his throat, voice thick and strained. "Hit the shower..." Jesse jutted his jaw on one side, the tip of his tongue rolling beneath his cheek and without saying much else, getting up in a hurry. Your gaze trailed his retreating form, until he disappeared into the hallway, and inside the bathroom. 

A few seconds pass, before you decide to go back to your room, that was conveniently next to the bathroom. The sound of the shower running resonated through your room in a low, steady hum. You crawled into bed and closed your eyes as you laid there, relaxing. 

Until you heard it. 

At first you thought your mind was playing tricks on you, but no, you heard it again. A little louder this time. With your eyes transfixed on the ceiling, your mouth fell open as you let out a silent gasp. There it was again, it was almost being drowned out by the water running, but being right next to the bathroom it was hard to miss the sounds of Jesse moaning. Heat rushed to your cheeks, it felt so wrong, as if you were intruding in on his personal time. You could leave, hang around in the living room, until he finished, literally. Or, you could lay there and listen to Jesse struggle to keep his voice down, his sinful whimpers growing a tad louder as he brought himself closer to the edge. 

"Jesus." your heart was threatening to burst out of your chest at high speed. A familiar burning traveled all the way from your chest and nestled in your abdomen, your body pumping with a feeling you couldn't exactly put your finger on. Out of their own accord your thighs squeezed and squeezed until you could get a semblance of euphoria, but it was not enough. Jesse's muffled moans grew in frequency and a few curse words slipping in here and there, and you could hear the urgency in his voice. 

"Oh....fuck." it was long and drawn out, and it was like music to your ears. Silence fell from the other side of the wall other than the water hitting the shower tiles, which also stopped after a minute or two. Your heart was beating so fast, you could hear the blood pumping in your ears, because what the fuck had just happened? You had just eavesdropped on your roommate masturbating and you enjoyed it. With a swift swipe of your tongue over your dry lips, you let out a sigh and turned your head to glare at the top drawer of your nightstand. 

With a scrunch of your brows, you squeezed your eyes shut for a second, and reached inside for your old trusty pink vibrator. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, an alien sound leaving your lips as you sucked air in, and stared at the small yet wondrous toy in your hand. It sort of felt wrong that you were so turned on by your roommate jacking off, but you were so dead set on chasing your own high at that moment that you gave no second thoughts, and the toy buzzed to life. 

The next weeks were pretty much spent trying not to think about that one Sunday morning, so much so that you sought temporary solutions in going out on dates, but to no avail. You couldn't quite put a finger on what it was, maybe like the fact that you looked for Jesse in all the guys you had gone out this, 'but Jesse...' always lingering in your mind as an afterthought to every little thing. You didn't know what it was exactly about that morning, but it had awakened suppressed emotions you hadn't even realized you had, or had chosen to ignore them. Only one guy, Andrew, was deemed worthy and made the cut, and that was only because he had earned the least amount of 'but Jesse's out of the previous ones, so he had earned himself a third date. 

That is how you had ended up stumbling in inside your dark apartment, your tangled bodies hitting your entryway stand in a frenzied state of kissing and groping. 

"Shh," you mumbled in between kisses, but that only seemed to spur Andrew on, and he let out a throaty moan the moment your fingers tugged at his golden brown hair, that very much resembled Jesse's. "Be quiet, you're gonna wake my roommate up." you broke the kiss with a whisper and blindly dragged him towards your room. 

Meanwhile, he tried to attatch his lips wherever he could, whether it were along your arms, the side of your neck to which you moaned, only because your mind was wandering off to a certain someone. "I can. Question is," he paused, his lips overing just above your ear, his hot breath fanning over your skin. "Can you?" Easy there tiger, was how you truly wanted to respond, yet you masked it with a moan. He was sweet talking you the entire time but his words fell unnoticed as they mindlessly slipped from one ear and out the other. Clothes were being discarded in a frenzy and soon enough you found yourself tangled in between the sheets with the almost stranger. 

The nightstand lamp cast a soft glow on his features, your eyes scanning his face, searching for a sense of familiarity. You found it in his eyes, the same hue as Jesse's yet they weren't the same at all. Andrew leaned down to bury himself in your neck, and your eyelids fluttered shut and pictured the only pair of blues you were longing for, while Andrew worked his way on your body, set on getting you there. The room was filled with noises of you, moans mixing in with the rhythmic sound of skin slapping against skin, that only grew faster by the minute. There it was, that familiar burning growing within, ready to envelop you like a wildfire. With furrowed brows, you tried to consentrate on it, trying your damn hardest not to let it slip away. Above you, Adrew groaned hotly, his rhythm growing sloppier by the second, and his hips stuttered as he stilled inside you and spilled into the condom.

And just like that, the fire dwindled. 

Jesse dragged his feet across the hardwood floor, sluggishly making his way to the kitchen, dragging a hand across his bed ridden eyes and face. Despite having splashed his face with cold water, he couldn't get rid of the sleepiness, maybe a cup of coffee would do the trick. As he neared the kitchen, he heard rustling and your muffled voice, probably talking on the phone, he assumed. He neared the kitchen entrance with a smile, ready to greet you and his entire mood shifted. 

Where Jesse normally sat on the kitchen table, when he would share his meals with you, was another man. Jesse's heart plummeted and it felt as it was being cut to pieces with a blunt butterknife, slow and painful. Maybe he was overreacting, but the way that stranger had moved the chair to be closer to you, the way his body was shifted close to yours, and the fucking way he was playing with your hands while you talked; it drove him over the edge. His chest heaved and he clutched the hem of his oversized graphic tee, trying to keep the little green monster growing inside him at bay. 

You giggled at something the guy said to you and Jesse's chest constricted, only he got to make you laugh like that. At that moment, your gaze lifted up and connected with Jesse's, surprise painted on your features for just a couple of seconds, but you hid it with a smile. "Jesse, good morning. I made extra coffee for you." you pointed at the coffee maker. 

"Mhm, morning," he mumbled under his breath. "Thanks." he tried a little louder, his voice coming out broken from the lack of use and all the pent up emotion that tightened around his throat. 

"Andrew, this is my roommate I was telling you about." you turned your attention to the guy next to you. "Jesse, this is Andrew." 

"Hi." Andrew greeted Jesse after a beat of silence. "You know," he chuckled dryly. "I thought your roommate would be a girl, to be honest." his laugh dying out as both you and Jesse remained silent, you only giving a polite smile in response and Jesse glared at how he was still holding your hand. He didn't even know this guy, if it was serious, surely he would know you were seeing somebody, so why was holding your hand as if you two were dating? 

"Why, you'd feel less threatened?" Jesse grumbled coarsely. In turn, Andrew's smile fell in an instant, his lips pursing in an o shape as he tried to process Jesse's comment. Just as shocked at Jesse's sudden aggressiveness, you momentarily pushed your head back and frowned in surprise, your eyes holding a silent conversation with his, to which Jesse merely shrugged in response. Quietly, he grabbed his favorite mug - it was a Billy the Puppet mug you had gifted him on his birthday about a year ago - poured himself some coffee and left the kitchen without a word. 

Once in the livng room, the TV came to life, Jesse flipping the channels mindlessly until he settled on some Seinfeld reruns. Ten minutes into the episode, he heard your voices approaching, yet he didn't turn his head to look as you bid Andrew farewell. Although, from the corner of his eye he was able to catch a glimpse of Andrew leaning down on your level and pecking you on the lips just as he was leaving. Jesse's top lip curled, the jealousy eating him up on the inside; that should've been him. And that chance was lost on him because he was a fucking coward, he had made his bed and now he had to lie in it. It's just that he hadn't expected it would hurt him so much and he was being unreasonably selfish for wishing things wouldn't work out between you two. 

The TV screen went black, which earned you an angry scowl from Jesse. "Yo, I was watching that!" his tone raised. 

"What was that?" you asked in the same tone, chucking the TV remote at his chest. Jesse's frown deepened, whispering a silent ow, while he rubbed the sore spot of impact. 

"What was what?" Jesse asked indignantly, emphasizing his t's. 

"Back then," you stated obviously. "In the kitchen?" you pointed at that direction, trying to get your point accross. 

Jesse let out a sarcastic snort. "Just stated the obvious." he replied more calmly this time, his eyes locked in on yours. 

"Well," your chest puffed out as you took in a deep breath, the motion catching Jesse's gaze, making his mind briefly wander off to somewhere else. "It was rude." To which Jesse merely scoffed at as a response. 

Silence fell over both of you, the tension grew and a frown resurfaced on Jesse's features again. "Look, I-" he paused to clear his throat, also recollecting his thoughts in the meantime. "I'm sorry. I'll be nicer next time." If there will be one, Jesse wanted to add but he would be treading on thin ice after that. 

"You seem to like him." he pointed out, taking in a few seconds to study your face, yet he couldn't really put a finger on the emotion painted on it, it almost gave off a vibe of uncertainty. "How long you two been goin' out?" he questioned hesitantly.

"Not long." you shrugged, tucking a strand behind your ear, then rubbing the base of your neck. That is your tell when you're nervous, Jesse noted silently to himself. "Third date was last night." 

Ah. Jesse's brows rose momentarily, the corners of his lips turning down and h,e let out a soft hum. He was aware of what happened on the third date, however, he wasn't expecting for him to have slept over. Maybe it was growing more serious faster than he thought. The monster inside him grew, its angry green vines tightening around his heart, causing his brain to paint pictures of you and him tangled in between the sheets, touching you in places Jesse could only do so in a wet dream. 

"Well, I hope it goes well." he lied through his teeth, topping it off with a smile, in hopes of sounding more sincere. 

It had, much to Jesse's disappointed, but he tried to keep that to himself, save for the sneering looks he'd throw Andrew's way the times he'd show up at your guys' apartment. All the while, Jesse tried to keep his distance the following weeks, because to himself that was the best course of action, which was turning out to be a terrible idea. Because he wasn't a regular friend, and stepping down to that status seemed to be hurting him more than not being able to be your boyfriend. In the midst of it all, he was also hurting you, it was painted on your face every day. Mainly the reason why he'd be cooped up in his room on his free time, to avoid seeing the hurt look on your face. 

Jesse was no stranger when it came to addiction, you were his vice. The most addictive drug he had ever been on; his highest highs, his lowest lows, and he was going through major withdrawal symptoms. Avoiding you like that was doing serious damage to his psyche. He was trying his damnest to detach himself from you. However, the harder he tried, the more he felt the urge to crawl into your bed, curl up against you, hold you tight until his body would mold into yours and the two of you would finally become one in the most literal sense.

Saturday morning had rolled, and Jesse having woken up first, made himself a cup of coffee. He had dragged his chair right next to the open kitchen window, blowing smoke from his cigarette outside - you hated it when he smoked it up inside the house, especially in the kitchen. After one long drag, he took a sip of coffee. Cigarettes and coffee, breakfast of champions, he thought and chuckled dryly to himself. 

"Jesse, we've talked about this before." your voice sounded defeated. 

"Cigarette's outside the house." he argued. 

"Barely." you scoffed with a shake of your head, moving to open the hood fan to get rid of any lingering smells. No reply came from him, but him putting out his cigarette when he was barely finished with it, was enough of an answer for you. 

After a quick inspection around the kitchen, you realized the sink was empty, no dirty dishes cluttering the basin, all counters and kitchen table empty, too. "No breakfast today?" you mused, unable to hide the sadness in your voice. 

Jesse replied indifferently with a grunt. "Nah, fridge was empty." 

Exasperated, you let out a huff through flared nostrils. "What's up with you?" 

That question made Jesse stir in his seat. "Dunno what you mean." he replied with a curt jerk of his shoulders. 

You move to stand near him, leaning forward to catch his avoidant gaze. "Jesse, we barely talk? And even when we do it feels as if it's done out of necessity. Also, you never," your tone increased and you followed with a pause, just for the added dramatics. "Ever, forget our weekend breakfasts." Jesse's silence fell heavy between the two of you, a disappointed scowl gracing your face. That's what upset Jesse even more, he'd rather have you be annoyed, angry at him, than disappointed. Anything. Anything but disappointed, because he feared that's when he would start losing you. 

Torn at the turn of events, Jesse was beginning to second guess his method and it seemed he was left with the only option he had left. That, of course, was to come clean, which was much easier in theory. 

"Don't you have like a date to go to?" Jesse asked, dismissing your previous comments entirely. His lips were formed in a tight line, he was unsure of why he was asking that, knowing the answer would hurt him. 

"Actually... we broke up two days ago." 

"Yeah? Why?" Jesse kept his head hung low, however he lifted his gaze to study you. There was a large hole at the hem of your shirt, it had once belonged to him and even used to be one of his favorites, up until one time it got snagged in the dryer. It had become your go to sleep attire from then on. Your finger kept tracing circles around the edges of the hole nervously. 

"Don't know, I broke up with him. It felt as if something was missing." 

"How are you feeling?" 

"Oh, I'm good." your voice brightened a bit, the usual perk in your tone almost there. "He was more bummed than me, though." you grimaced and shrugged it off. 

Jesse simply nodded in response, this time really lifting his head to properly look at you and he swore you looked as if there was something else lingering at the tip of your tongue, but you kept your lips sealed. Instead, you asked, "Wanna grab waffles?"

The drive back home was silent, the only sound in the car cabin was the occasional slurping of your lemon flavored slushy. Although, you had somewhat tried to maintain your weekend tradition, your shared breakfast seemed more forced than having a date with a guy your mom had set you up with. Without having realized you had just arrived home, Jesse had just pulled the handbrake up, the croaking of the lever breaking you out of your trance. On the way up the stairs, Jesse kept his pace up a few steps ahead of you, the soles of his Nikes screeching as they rubbed against the stairs. The flesh of your bottom lip was trapped beneath your teeth, the corners of your mouth also forming a harsh frown. A dull pain shot through you when you dug your teeth in deeper, while you tried to bury your frustration building up within. You were losing your best friend and worst part of it all was you didn't know why. 

First thing Jesse did once he set foot in, was chuck his black beanie on the hallway stand, most of his sandy brown hair was sticking out in various places in a disheveled mess, while the ones closer to his face stuck on his skin, a shade darker and wet with sweat. 

"Jesse." 

"Jesse." you repeated sternly, not accepting his low grumble of a response. 

"What?" 

You bit your lip again, the frustration brewing in your stomach making you nauseous. "You tell me." 

"There's nothing to tell." Jesse feigned confusion, again. He kicked off he shoes and trudged to the living room, plopping himself on the sofa, the old piece of furniture groaning beneath his weight. You followed in, only seconds after, each step growing more powerful as frustration turned into anger. 

"Don't play dumb with me. Tell me what's going on." you demanded as you stopped to stand in front of him, between the couch and coffee table. 

Jesse's forehead wrinkled in exasperation, his icy blues bore into you. Though, just for two seconds and they fell back on his lap. 

"You've been avoiding me, and don't you dare," you pointed a finger at him just as his head snapped up, his mouth moving to say something, "Don't," you paused again, closing your eyes and exhaling, "Don't you dare deny it." 

Jesse sat there stunned and accepted your outburst in silence, because he wasn't dumb to not know it was well deserved. Your eyes left his form and darted up to the ceiling, feeling the corners tickling with fresh, warm tears that threatened to spill. "I feel... I feel like I'm losing you. I'm losing us." you cried into the ceiling. "I'm losing us and it hurts." 

"Yeah, well loving you hurts me more." Jesse snapped, jumping up to his feet. "Every day hurts because I'll always be your best friend, your-your r-roommate," he spat those words out as if they were poison. "It fucking hurts how you try and find happiness in other guys, yet it never works out. I-I could make it work out, but you won't give me a chance." he was yelling at this point, his neck red and strained while his voice ripped through.

Dumbstruck you stand there with your mouth agape, your mind in a state of delirium upon hearing Jesse's confession. Your stomach was doing somersaults and if you felt nauseous before, then now you definitely felt like throwing up. It seemed as if it was your body's natural response at that point. 

"I want to be happy for you, I do. Call me selfish all you want, but I can't stand you looking happy in somebody else's arms - like that bitch, Andrew." Jesse spat his name. 

"I wasn't." you whisper, and upon Jesse's silence you continue, "I wasn't happy with him, I mean. That's why I broke up with him; because in every thing he did, I kept searching for you in him and it was never going to work out." you confess, waiting for Jesse's response. His eyes darted left and right as he was trying to process your own confession. 

He sized you up, lingering for a little longer on your lips. "So what does this mean?" he asked lowly, voice tired and hoarse. 

"Just fucking kiss me, dumbass." 

In light speed, his lips came crashing down on yours; teeth clashing and all. It was by no means what you would usually describe as a perfect kiss, though it was full of raw and pent up emotion, so much so that you were flying on cloud nine. With every move of his lips against yours, he unleashed the sea of emotions into you; that way he wasn't drowning anymore, that way he could finally stay afloat with you by his side. 

"I love you too." you whisper softly against his lips, before pulling him in for another kiss, more gentle this time. You use your body to push his back down on the couch, landing with a loud thump. Automatically, your legs are on either side of his hips, your core nestled against his thigh when you opened up your legs to shift yourself to sit closer to him on his lap. Your hands held on his cheeks while you moved to kiss every inch of his face, your thumbs caressing loving shapes on his skin. Settling with a ghost of a kiss on the corner of his lips, you move to nuzzle your nose against his, your foreheads touching. 

"I want you, so bad." his hot breath fanned against your face, it tickled your lips and you closed the gap between you to satisfy the itch. Slowly, but surely, you felt yourself melting into him with each passing second, with each swipe of his curious tongue against yours. Jesse's kisses were like a drug, and now that you had finally had your first taste, you were already hooked. His cheeks burned hot beneath your palms, also loving the contrast of the soft skin on his cheekbones, with the roughness of his four day stubble. Reluctantly, you moved your hands away from his face, resting them on his shoulders, massaging them and moving to do the same on his chest and then back up. 

Meanwhile, Jesse's hands were on your lower back, too hesitant to move down to squeeze the slopes of your ass. "I want you to touch me." 

Jesse groaned, his hands immediately taking heed of your command. While his hands were preoccupied, he moved down to attack your neck with a trail of blazing kisses, stopping once he had found that sweet spot that had you writhing on his lap, where it turned into biting and sucking on supple skin, selfishly branding your skin purple. All the while, your hands slowly crept down his abdomen and up his shirt, memorizing how every inch of him felt. Thinking that it would be easier to do so without a shirt on, your hands found their way on his hoodie, peeling it off his shoulders. Jesse abandoned his post on your neck for a few seconds, so he could pull his t-shirt off his head, his upper body completely bare; he was all lean muscle. 

"Take off yours too." he mumbled, his hungry mouth attatched to your neck once more. 

"Mhm, no." you giggled as he playfully bit you. 

"Not fair, mine's off." Jesse complained. His deep, gravelly voice rumbled against your skin, causing electrifying bursts of pleasure to vibrate thoughout your entire body. His hands were off your ass, already hitching your sweater up, his nimble fingers moving up to trace the outline of your unclad breasts. "Shit, no bra?" he bit his lip and broke into a wolfish grin, making heat rise all the way up to the tips of your ears. 

Your hands abandoned their resting place on his chest and moved above your head. Jesse lowered his head, but his big blue eyes stared up at you his pupils blown out from all the love and deep want he held for you. Ever so tantalizingly slow, he pulled your sweater up inch by inch, placing hot open mouth kisses on each inch of skin slowly revealed. Once the garment was fully off your head and on the living room floor somewhere, he buried his face in the valley of your breasts, his nose rubbing against the mounts of flesh, as he took a hardened nipple in his mouth. 

Not once did his eyes leave yours, his powerful gaze along with his gentle assault on your nub had you moaning and clenching around nothing. His lips curled around your nipple sucking it even further into his mouth, all the while his tongue curled around it. The pent up need and desire was accumulating in your chest and it felt like a nuclear reactor about to go off. Jesse moved to pull back from your breast, only after softly biting and grazing his teeth on your soft flesh, causing you to take in broken breaths. 

"You're so beautiful, you know that?" he said and rested his chin on your chest. His eyes were wide open, literally and figuratively, so open he was allowing you to look in to all those feelings he had tried to keep hidden; for the first time in years he had the chance to be really open with you without any fear whatsoever. At a loss for words, you simply pulled him in for a searing kiss, fingers coming up to tangle at the roots at the back of his head, his own mimicking your actions. Too lost in the moment, you started grinding down on him, feeling him harden through his baggy sweats. 

"Let me help you with that, hm?" you whispered hotly in his ear, biting on his earlobe and tugging harshly, earning a shocked moan from him. You pulled back just in time to see his face flushing a beet red and you smiled smugly. You took your own sweet time as you slid off his lap, not wasting any second to leave his chest and abs unattended, making sure his skin was marked. Teasingly, you halted for a moment, your lips hovering over his clothed length for a couple of seconds before you made contact with him, mouthing his cock over the cotton fabric of his sweats. His thighs had now replaced his shoulders as your resting place, and you made sure you massaged him as your curious hands worked through their ascent towards his waistline. Immediately, your fingers hooked around the elastic bands of his sweats and boxers, pulling them both down with a swift movement; Jesse slightly moving his hips upwards to assist you. 

His hardened cock sprang free and you took a moment to drink in the sight of him, all spread out on the couch, flushed and naked. Your thighs rubbed together, the heat in your core increasing just by looking at him.  Wanting to savor this moment, you started slowly kissing your way up his inner thighs, until the tip of your nose bumped against his balls. Teasingly, you took one in your mouth, swirling your tongue around. A strained curse was heard above you and you lifted your eyes to see that Jesse's were shut, his face contorted in pleasure. Your hand was wrapped around his shaft, idly moving up and down in a circular motion, coming all the way to his tip to collect the bead of precum, and rubbing it all along his length as you stroked your way back down. Your mouth found its way on his other ball, repeating the same rolling action with your tongue, before moving to put both in your mouth. 

With a lewd sound, you pulled away, a string of drool connecting his balls and your mouth. Collecting more spit, you spat on his tip and slathered his girth with it. You took a moment to examine the sight in front of you, moving to lock gazes with Jesse, both of you looking at each other with lust blown eyes. Biting your lip, you teased your way to his tip, beginning to suckle on it gently. After a few seconds of only paying attention to his head, Jesse was growing impatient, trying to thrust himself further into your mouth, "Fuck, you're killing me." he let out a high pitched whimper. 

Almost sorry for teasing him, you bob your head up and down, easing him on gently against your tongue, allowing your jaw to get used to his size as you took him deeper, inch by inch. Finally, with a low hum your nose bumped against his pelvis the moment you took him all in. You'd never been so full. Pulling away for a much needed breath of air, you returned to the task ahead of you, with much more vigor, suppressing your gags as you rhythmically bobbed your head up and down his shaft; making sure to hollow out your cheeks for extra suction. 

Jesse was a whimpering mess and his sounds took you back to that day you had overheard him pleasuring himself, the memories of that day fueling the fire burning within you. Your own moans vibrated against his cock, making his whimpering moans grow in volume. The wet patch on your underwear just reminded you of how much you also longed for his touch, but you kept on gowing until you felt your jaw numbing, only then did you pull away. 

Your lips urgently met his in a frantic, yet passionate kiss. "I want to feel your lips on mine." you whispered lowly. 

For a second, that left Jesse confused, given how he was just kissing you, until realization finally clicked and he immediately sprang to action. Your positions were now reversed, helping Jesse unbutton your jeans as his trembling hands struggled. "I'm sorry, I'm a little nervous." he apologized, seemingly embarrassed. 

"Me too." you reassured, unzipping your pants and letting them peel your jeans off of you; the pair of pants meeting its fate on the floor along with all the other discarded items of clothing. You were left in just some old pink cotton hipster briefs; your choice of underwear clearly showing that you hadn't been expecting this turn of events. Though, to Jesse you still looked hot, hell, he'd think the same if you even wore a sack of potatoes. He gulped loudly, his eyes transfixed on the large wet spot in the middle of your undies; God, you were soaked.  

Unlike you, he skipped the teasing entirely, diving straight into work, ripping your panties off of you and delving into your pussy. He was eating you like a man starved, nose buried up all up in your pussy, constricting his airflow, but he didn't care, he was ready to suffocate. Just then, he made it his life's mission; to die nose deep in your needy pussy, the thought bringing him utter bliss. With just one taste of you, he was already drunk on your taste. 

He hummed against your center, his tongue moving in circles around your swollen clit in a steady motion that was bringing you closer  and closer to seeing stars. Breaking away for a much needed breath of air, he angled your hips forward closer to the edge, throwing your legs up wide and open. He kneeled a bit further, taking a mental picture of the sight in front of him. "I'll never get tired of seeing this." he moaned, angling himself lower to proceed on pleasuring you. His tongue lapped up all your juices and slid in and out of you; your soft muscles tightening around him. You glanced down on him, noticing how his right arm was moving up and down stroking himself while he ate you out. His voice vibrated against you in a low moan, and you felt your thighs quake as you were nearing to the edge. 

"Please, I need you." you begged, tugging at his hair in a motion for him to stop. Funnily, Jesse seemed to be more disappointed than you, not being able to get you off at least once before he was inside you, but if you were so willing to forgo that part, then he didn't mind; anything to keep you happy. 

Soon enough, Jesse found himself sitting on the couch once more with you straddling his lap. Your hand moved in between you, grabbing on the base of his dick, angling his tip right at your entrance. Given how wet you were, you sank down on him with ease, and you sat unmoving for a few seconds relishing in the way he filled you up just right, as if your bodies were made for each other. Jesse's hands found their way on the flesh of your ass, squeezing you lightly and moving to grind your hips against his in a motion for you to start moving. With no further need for instructions, your hips began rocking up and down in a familiar motion on his length. 

Jesse's right arm snaked around your waist, holding you down and pulling you in, flush against his chest, while his other hand moved to cup the side of your face to bring you in for a kiss. It was the gentlest kiss you'd exchanged thus far, his lips slow and deliberate against yours. You moaned against his lips, your clit occasioanlly rubbing against his pelvis, each time you gound your hips as you came down on his cock, causing your walls to tighten around him as you were a few steps away from nearing your release. Jesse was too, given how he couldn't contain his moans and whimpers, accompanied by a series of praise for you. 

"You ride me so well, baby." Baby, such an ordinary word, yet it had you reeling with a flurry of emotions. You didn't mind though, in fact you should get used to that now. 

Your ass slapped against his thighs rhythmically, the set pace quickening with each descent. 

"Oh, God baby, I'm so close." you whined and pressed your forehead against his. You stopped going up and down and started to grind your hips against his, seeking the much needed friction on your clit to bring you over the edge. 

"Let it out for me, let it all out." Jesse whispered before he pulled you in for yet another kiss. Angry red scratches marked his chest and you dug them even deeper once your hips stalled their movement. Your orgasm ripped though you in a hot white flash and your thighs trembled with pleasure. 

Not given even a second to recollect yourself, Jesse gripped your hips so hard they would be bruised tomorrow. Angling you a bit higher, his hips began pounding into you in a fervent pace. Your hands steadied themselves around his neck, your fingers locked in around the roots of his hair. They were a bit sweaty, but so were yours and you truly didn't mind. All you cared about at that moment was to get to see him come. His breath came out in broken gasps, mingled in with some moans here and there and beads of sweat collected on the corners of his brows. Overstimulated from your previous orgasm, you felt your walls tighten around him once more, a telltale sign of the fire igniting within you once more. 

One of his hands left your hip and moved up to brush away loose stands that were sticking to your sweaty forehead, his touch featherlight and sweet, in contrast to the way he was fucking into you like a madman. "I'm gonna come." he groaned. 

So lost in bliss, all you could do was nod. His pelvic bone was hitting against your clit, just the right way for you to clench around him and come undone once more. You came so hard your breath was knocked over and you felt like passing out. Jesse hissed, your cunt still pulsed around him and it sent him over the edge with a groan. His already tight grip tightened even more the moment he spilled into you, coating your walls white with his cum. After a few seconds, his moans died out and his head slumped back on the couch and looked up to the ceiling. "Shit that was..." 

"That was amazing." you both spoke at the same time and broke into a smile. 

You were still on him, he was still in you and if it weren't for his cum dripping out as his cock softened you would've stayed like that a little longer. However, afraid to make a mess, Jesse got up to grab a clean washcloth you wipe you both clean. Once you were both all wiped up, you laid down on the couch in a tangled mess of naked limbs. 

Both of you remained quiet, there was no need to say anything for the moment was perfect as it was; you on his chest, hearing the steady drum of his heart, him drawing soothing patterns on your back. Seconds after, though it was Jesse who broke the silence as a thought occured to him. 

"Whose room are we gonna sleep now?" 

tags: @madzzz0797 @nika-sophie05

[kittenintheden]

*dumps her random characterization and voice notes into your lap* here hope this helps

- Astarion speaks a little bit like a man removed from time and a little bit like an Upper City patriar, but not excessively so and not as a rule. Posh and embellished, but not completely avoidant of slang or casual swearing. Like a person who was once in a certain position in life, was ripped from it, and then spent a very long time in survival mode among people of lesser station/education. His mouth is often ahead of his brain. Many of his pricklier interactions are a direct result of trauma response. He longs to be in control, of his circumstances and of himself. His terms of endearment make subtle shifts from insincere and condescending to genuine and affectionate. When he feels threatened, he becomes distant and detached. He's funny, in both an awkward unintentional way and a very intentional witty way. He walks a razor's edge between a person who relies on his charms and an animal in a cage.

- Wyll is a deeply idealistic noble raised on tales of good knights and mighty heroes. His father was a soldier first, a noble second, and instilled in him a rigid moral code and high expectations for leadership. Those teachings led him to make a life-altering choice at seventeen years old that he was resoundly punished for due to manipulation and misunderstanding. Instead of becoming embittered, he cemented his dedication to his ideals and holds on to a sense of failure. He's eloquent and learned, with an abiding sense of chivalry and propriety. He's young, but not completely naive -- he has a firm personal code, but it's not immutable. Much of his conversation comes from stories he's heard or read that resonated with him. He is charismatic, friendly, and wants to believe in goodness. He's not above a cringe-worthy pun that he likely picked up from being around common folk.

- Lae'zel thinks non-githyanki beneath her, at least at first. Common is her second language and one she doesn't hold a lot of respect for -- she uses it to communicate and that's it. Her words are economic and blunt, but have a rich current of culture underneath. She is a soldier, but she is learned in the lore and ways of her people, and very proud of it. She does not deal in metaphor or hedging her opinions. She trusts her leadership and her queen implicitly. Her word is the truth (to her).

- Shadowheart is deeply mistrustful of people outside her cloister/belief system, which comes off as distance or aloofness. Her specific memories have been altered or removed, but all her core experiences and dedication remain. She's been raised in an environment that is very cult-like and spreads the idea that anyone unlike them is probably an enemy. Nothing is more important than proving herself to her parent-figure. Even so, she wants to connect. She wants to trust. Her communication is guarded and emotionally detached, until it isn't.

- Gale is extremely intelligent, but he's been removed from interacting with everyday people for a long time. His terminology tends to default to his book learning, which can come off as superiority. He has Gifted Kid Syndrome -- literally Chosen for his ability and knowledge, and experiencing a deep sense of, "Who am I if I'm not Chosen? What is my greater calling now?" He's used to his voice mattering, his expertise respected, but also internalized a sense of guilt and shame. He can err toward arrogance, but it comes from a place of wanting to make things better.

- Karlach was an Outer City street kid with what sounded like a reasonably happy home life and she ended up in the employ of a charming young entrepreneur who she completely trusted as hired muscle. That man betrayed her in an incredibly horrific way that she didn't see coming -- not because she's a fool, but because she wants to love people and he tricked her into loving him. She's spent a decade terribly lonely and literally untouchable by anyone but fire-immune fiends. She's cheery and optimistic, but it's largely a front to hide her hurt and sadness. Being a fighter is who she is, not only what she was forced to do. She believes her value is in her physical strength because she has no formal education or skills (she thinks). Her speech is casual, full of slang, blunt, crass, almost childlike (but she is NOT a child -- important distinction). There's a darkness in her she doesn't want to face, so she hides behind humor and affection. Still, when she loves, it is completely in earnest.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Any Stefek fic that is based off the movie Dirty Dancing? A friend of mine said she read a few but I can not find any! Thank you!!!

Nobody puts Sterek in a corner!

Awkward Dancing by StaciNadia

(1/1 I 1,193 I Teen)

Love and dancing come together at Argent's Resort.

I Can't Live Without Your Love by Val_Brown

(1/1 I 4,898 I Not Rated)

Derek stared out the car window as the green trees of the Oregon Coast highway rolled past. Every summer since he could remember they would head to a resort just outside of Bandon, Oregon. This was the last summer before he began college. The last summer before he had to start his future. He was going to make the most of it.

I Carried a Watermelon for Werewolf Equal Rights by alphasnark

(1/6 I 5,359 I Teen)

A Dirty Dancing AU.

feel the magic between you and I by stilinskisparkles

(1/1 I 11,432 I Mature)

“See?” Derek holds his arms out, “Everything’s working out great for you, and I still have no dance partner,” he turns to Erica, “Face it, no one is as good as you.”

“We still have one more,” she sing songs.

Derek peers over to the list, flinches when he sees Stiles’ name, “No.”

“You haven’t even seen me dance, and you’re already dismissing me?” Stiles sails into the room, tossing his bag in the corner as he does so and doing a dramatic spin to face them. “I got moves.”

Hot, sweet and wild by kishmet

(2/? I 14,665 I Mature)

When his father had announced the trip to the Argents' resort, Stiles had envisioned long days spent lounging on the beach with his laptop. He'd never imagined rigorous training sessions with the world's hottest, strictest dance coach.

Nobody puts Stiles in a corner by Stephaninnie

(7/7 I 39,565 I Mature)

Dirty Dancing AU where Stiles is Baby and Derek is Johnny and some things have changed but most things have stayed the same.

Certain Kind of Fool by saraubs

(1/1 I 36,530 I Mature)

Derek, who has been dragged against his will to the same resort his family visits every summer, is determined to spend the next two and a half months sequestered in his room. His only friend, his sister Laura, is preoccupied with her newly-bonded mate, and doesn't seem to care about anything but making him happy.

When Derek meets Stiles Stilinski, a sharp-tongued waiter, he thinks that this summer might not be a complete waste of time. There are only two problems: First, Stiles is human. Second, he doesn't believe in mates.

Dirty Dealing by lookslikenico, winglesswarrior

(13/? I 47,100 I Teen)

Stiles had a plan for his final summer before college. He was going to intern at the Sheriff's station, get ahead on the plans for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, his dad had some hazy idea of him having 'one last summer' as a lazy teenager. Now, he's stuck cooling his heels and feeling very out of place at some stuck up country club, where he feel he has more in common with the staff than the other members. Of course, that could be because the staff include his new 'how have we never met before' best friend Scott and the 'it should be physically impossible for someone to be that perfect' new crush, Derek. Who apparently hates him - but not enough that he won't swallow his pride and put up with Stiles' presence when he's needed to help get Erica out of trouble...

I May Be Naive But I'm Not Stupid by FelOllie

(18/? I 73,472 I Explicit)

Stiles Stilinski is the young, naïve high school graduate who's headed off to Columbia University (with every intention of going on to Columbia Law) because that's what his parents expect of him. Even though, really, all he wants to do is take after his father and become a cop.

Derek Hale is the sexy, mysterious, just-this-side-of-standoffish-and-rude dance instructor. He and his partner, Lydia Martin, work the summers at the playing-at-posh mountain resort teaching the over-privileged adults and their spoiled kids how to do the merengue.

The summer proves to be exactly what Stiles needs to finally learn how to take control of his life.

But, what happens when it's over?

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Playing Pretend (Part 9)

Two fools finally admit how they feel.

Roy Kent x Reader

2.6k words

Warnings: Language, lots of kissing, allusions to smutty things

Series Masterlist

Roy’s heart was hammering when you walked into the reception. It didn’t matter that he’d already seen how gorgeous you looked, or that his lips had been pressed against yours all weekend, or even that he was a professional fucking footballer who’d dated women like Gina Gershwin. You always had this effect on him, even more so now that he was finally ready to tell you he loved you.

His resolve flew out the window when you confidently strolled up to him and took the champagne he held in his hand. “Thought you were going to have something strong waiting for me?” you teased, downing the half-empty glass, the bubbles tickling your tongue.

“That was mine,” he chuckled. “Some server came and shoved it into my hand as soon as I walked in.” He picked up a glass from the table and offered it to you, the condensation dripping over his fingers. “This is yours.”

With a sheepish grin as your apology, you accepted the glass and took a sip. Whiskey. Your usual go-to drink when you were with Roy. The familiar burn had your mind racing, remembering the dream you had last night. God, it was kind of embarrassing. In your dream, you pounced on Roy as soon as you got back to your room from the rehearsal dinner. And he rejected you. And- ugh even worse- he was so damn nice about it. It wouldn’t be the first time you dreamt about him, it wasn’t even the raciest dream by far, but knowing he was in the same bed as you while you dreamt it… and the fact that even in your dreams you didn’t have a chance with him… oof.

But you couldn’t think about that right now. You had to take your seat next to Roy and applaud with everyone else as your sister and her new husband made their grand entrance. Instinctively, Roy reached for your hand, giving it a sympathetic squeeze when Jim laid a particularly deep kiss on your sister’s lips. But, for the first time all weekend, you found that you really didn’t care. Maybe it was having the gorgeous footballer of your dreams doting on you for days now, even if it was just for show, but the stabbing feeling in your chest didn’t appear.

Instead, you turned to Roy and smiled, a real smile, and leaned close. “So, how many dances are you good for tonight?”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Told you, as many as you want.” He connected his lips to yours, a deep, loving kiss, a real one, whether you knew it or not. “I am all yours tonight.”

If only he knew how badly you wished that was true. And if only you knew how true it was.

The two of you chatted with Jen and Paul during dinner, making jokes about the poshness of the weekend, blushing when your older sister began teasing you about your own wedding that she was so sure would be happening soon. Once servers came around to begin clearing plates, Roy joined your favorite brother-in-law at the bar to grab another round so you’d have something stronger than champagne for the toasts.

“God that man loves you,” Jen clucked, poking your nose affectionately.

You blushed and looked down. “Seems like it, huh?”

She nudged you. “I’m serious. That look in his eye is the same one I remember Paul having right before he asked me out for the first time. It’s cute, seeing Roy Kent all domestic and in love.” She kissed your cheek. “Especially with my little sister.”

Before you could figure out what to say, Roy was sitting back down, plopping two drinks down on the table. “Miss me?” he teased, stealing a small kiss, the naturalness of the action making your heart skip a beat.

“Always,” you answered, trying to find that look in his eye that Jen had mentioned. You thought you might have seen something in the way his eyes lingered on yours, that soft smile playing on his lips that you couldn’t believe you got to kiss. A thought you’d never had before crossed your mind: I should tell Roy how I feel.

For the first time in your life, you didn’t feel scared of the inevitable rejection of telling Roy Kent you loved him. Even though you always knew it, this weekend really showed you how much Roy cared about you. You knew that his “no” would be compassionate and full of affection and be said in a way that let you know he loved you, even if it wasn’t the way you wanted. If there was ever a time to tell Roy Kent you loved him, it was tonight.

As the best man took the microphone for the first speech of the night, Roy pulled your chair closer to his, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “Alright,” he whispered in your ear. “Take a drink every time someone says something that makes you want to vomit.”

You chuckled, leaning into his embrace and stoking his cheek with your finger. “Or anytime someone narrowly avoids mentioning that the groom used to date the bride’s sister.”

Roy’s stifled laugh filled your heart. “We’ll be sloshed before the dancing starts.”

You really only half-heard the speeches. Your mind was too preoccupied with Roy- his arm around you, his breath on your cheek, the thought of telling him how you felt, the possible reactions he would have. You did listen enough to exchange knowing looks with Roy over the top of your glasses when the maid of honor- a friend of your sister’s from college- made a comment about “love at first sight” that elicited more than a few raised eyebrows.

“Fucking wanker,” Roy hissed, glaring harshly at Jim.

“Doesn’t matter,” you assured him, kissing his cheek; he immediately softened at the feeling of your lips on his skin. “Shit, sorry,” you giggled, picking up a napkin to wipe away the lipstick mark you left on his scruff.

Roy had to stop himself from telling you to leave it there, loving the idea of being marked by you.

It felt like an eternity before the dancing finally began. While you fully expected Roy to drag his feet and need a bit of prodding to get moving, he surprised you by immediately offering his hand as a bouncy Whitney Houston song urged people to the dance floor.

“Shall we?”

He didn’t need to ask twice. You took his hand and let him lead you to the dance floor, thankful that you had the one partner you knew would never make fun of your lack of rhythm. Roy quickly set you at ease, bringing his body close to yours, moving his shoulders effortlessly, even giving you a flirty twirl or two. Dancing with Roy Kent was the most fun you’d ever had.

After a few fun, fast songs, a slow Adele song filled the air. Roy raised his eyebrows expectantly, taking your shy grin as permission to pull you flush against him, his hands settling low on your back, definitely lower than a friend’s hands should be. You reciprocated by letting your hands linger at the nape of his neck, your fingers brushing against those curls you loved so much.

“How’re you feeling?” Roy asked, his voice thick with concern. “Surviving?”

When the evening shadows and the stars appear

And there is no one there to dry your tears

I could hold you for a million years

To make you feel my love

“More than surviving,” you answered lightly, wanting nothing more than to dive into those eyes that stared at you with affection. “Honestly. I’m actually having a great time with you.”

He nodded. “Good. Good.” His grip tightened on you. “D’you think anyone would notice if we disappeared? Went for a little walk?”

It was as if he could read your mind. “I don’t really care if anyone notices,” you admitted. “Come on.” You reached for one of his hands and tugged him off the dance floor, away from the reception, not stopping until you were in a darker, quieter part of the property, an overgrown garden couples often disappeared to on warm evenings like this one.

“Feels like I’m in a fucking Jane Austen novel,” Roy joked, giving your hand a squeeze.

You snorted, as if you weren’t nervous as all hell. “What do you know about Jane Austen?” you challenged.

Roy smirked. “I know they go for lots of walks in gardens. And that her books always have the best love confessions. I even know that ‘bewitched me body and soul’ wasn’t in the book, although it is a fucking romantic line.”

“Roy Kent,” you huffed, shaking your head. “When will you stop being the perfect man?”

He stopped under the cover of a willow tree, enclosing the two of you in your own private world as he took your other hand, holding both tightly. “You think I’m perfect?”

You realized what you’d just said. “I mean… come on,” you scoffed, trying to play it off. “You’re Roy Kent, aren’t you? Handsome footballer. What girl wouldn’t-”

“But you,” he interrupted, his eyes full of yearning. “You think I’m perfect?” Before you could choke out an answer, he continued. “Because I think you are. I’ve thought it for a long fucking time.”

It was as if the world was both spinning and frozen at the same time. “Roy, what are you saying?”

He kept a firm grip on your hands, his eyes searching yours frantically. “You kissed me. Last night, in our room, you kissed me.”

You froze. It wasn’t a dream.

“And I wanted it so fucking badly,” he continued, letting one of his hands cup your cheek. “But you were so fucking sloshed- and shit, I didn’t know what you really wanted and-”

“Oh, fuck this,” you gasped, grabbing his face and pulling him close, letting your lips crash into his hungrily, not caring if your nails left little crescent marks on his cheeks. If anything, they’d mark him as yours.

He melted into the kiss, his own arms wrapping around your waist to hold you tighter, tight as he could, marveling at the feeling of finally fucking having you for his own. He’d served you your drinks tonight; you were a tad tipsy, sure, and he could absolutely taste the delicious mix of whiskey and champagne and wedding cake on your tongue, but he knew you were sober enough that your kiss was telling him the absolute truth: I want you just as much as you want me.

“I love you,” he mumbled against your lips, refusing to break the kiss for anything short of the apocalypse. “I fucking love you.”

You seemed to agree, because you gasped, “I love you too,” into his mouth, the sensation and words both sending shivers down his spine.

The kiss lasted forever. Or barely a moment. You weren’t sure which. You just knew that when the two of you finally came up for air, there was no mistaking the delight on Roy Kent’s face, the same delight you knew you wore.

“Your lipstick’s a bit fucked,” he teased, the red on his own mouth evidence of his observation.

“I don’t think I care,” you admitted. “It’s a good color on you, anyways.” Deciding he needed a bit more of your lipstick, you pressed another kiss to his lips. “You love me, hmm?”

He nodded. “Loved you for a long fucking time actually. You?”

Despite the fact that you just had Roy’s tongue in your mouth, you were suddenly bashful. “Roy, I have loved you for as long as I can remember.”

He let his hands come up to hold your face, his grip gentle as if he was afraid you would break like a china doll. “There was this one Christmas I came home… you were wearing this little pink dress… and you were so fucking lovely.” He shrugged. “I was a fucking goner. I tried so hard not to love you… because I never thought this would happen. Even with the whole football thing, I never thought you’d see me as anything other than the boy you grew up with, your childhood mate. But fuck, it was torture.” His thumb stroked your cheek. “Never wanted anything in this whole fucking world as much as I wanted you.”

“We’ve wasted a lot of time, haven’t we?” you sighed, pressing your forehead to his. “So much fucking time.”

Roy pressed another kiss to your lips. “Nothing we can’t make up for,” he promised. “And trust me, I plan on making up for every moment we’ve missed.” There was a mischievous sparkle in his eye that set your skin aflame.

With a giggle, you took off the flower crown you wore and placed it carefully on top of his curls. His smile softened, a sweet, lopsided sight you took a mental photo of to hang onto forever. “Looks good on you,” you promised. Anything would look good on that man.

He pulled you back in for another kiss, this time walking you backwards and pressing your back against the willow tree that hid the two of you from the world. One of his hands cupped your face while the other lazily stroked your bare arm, as his mouth slowly explored yours. Your own hands snaked around his shoulders, caressing his neck, trying to memorize the way his hair felt in your gentle grasp. You loved the way he took his time with you, confident and timid all at once, letting out soft groans every time he realized he was kissing you.

“We should head back,” you finally murmured, eyes fluttering as you wondered when his lips had found your neck.

He sighed against your skin. “D’we have to?” The begging whine in his voice had you tightening your grip on his hair, something that had him pressing his body closer against yours.

“Unfortunately,” you giggled, your thumb stroking the material of his shirt. “I’m the sister of the bride and you’re a famous footballer. We’re pretty easy to miss.”

“Fine,” he huffed. Before he let you go, he pressed a particularly languid kiss to your neck, letting his tongue glide over the small bit of skin. The sensation had you shivering. “Cold?” he asked in a smug voice. You could feel his smirk against your skin.

You laughed and shoved him off of you. “Prick,” you teased, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Oi, you better be nice to me,” he warned playfully as the two of you reluctantly started to head back to the party. “Because our first date is either going to be some exclusive five-star restaurant, or a trip to fucking Tesco to buy some mini muffins to eat in the parking lot.”

“As long as you’re there,” you hummed, giving his hand a squeeze, “both sound fine to me.”

He laughed and pressed a kiss to your temple, looking positively dreamy in your flower crown. “Easy to please. I like that.”  He brought you back to the dance floor, pulling you to himself. “I love you,” he repeated, wondering if you’d heard him correctly the first time, because this was all too good to be true.

“I love you too,” you assured him before pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Is it too forward of me to ask how long we have to stay out here?” he purred in your ear. “Because I’d really like to take you back to our room and continue what you started last night.”

Even though you rolled your eyes and gave him a little shove, the blush on your cheeks and sparkle in your eye promised Roy he wouldn’t have to wait long.

[pillow-ghost-nan]

VERY LONG wolfstar fic rec list PART 2

PART 1

PART 3

Again, since I almost exclusively read smut, most of these are M or E lol

Please let me know if any link needs fixing or if there are any mistakes

Multi-chapter:

Carry Me Away by greyeyedmonster18

Rating: M, 105k words “You know I need you, and that's for sure, you’re just the kind of crazy I’ve been looking for.” Sirius had devised the perfect plan. Two weeks in London before he started University. Two weeks of bars and football games and time spent out from under his parents gaze. Two weeks without rules or expectations. He concocted the perfect ruse to fool everyone about his whereabouts. And then he met Remus. And suddenly two weeks couldn't have ever been enough time. (non-magic, AU; Sirius is a sheltered posh boy on his first rebellion, Remus is an attractive stranger who make's him re-think all his plans).

Sacrifice by abyss_valkyrie (Technomancer28), muse_in_absentia

Rating: E, 48k words In a world where Demons are the top of the food chain, the Shadow Demons are in charge of it all. Sirius, the heir apparent, would really like to shake that up, with a little help from his friends, of course.

For the Love of Ducks by viwrites

Rating: E, 74k words Remus Lupin is freshly twenty years old and sitting on a park bench in central London, he has a squashed pastry bag next to him and a cup of tea clutched between perpetually cold fingers. He moved to London eight months ago in search of a new doctor after having grown up on a little farm in Wales, and he hasn’t taken well to city life. He's taken to this park mostly because the trees are dense, the people are sparse, and there are birds. Nice ones that sing and hop from bench to bench scavenging for dropped bits of food or else pulling worms from the earth. Today he’s watching a pair of ducks glide easily across the pond. He thinks they must have a nest nearby, and in a few weeks there will be ducklings. Or... Remus Lupin has always been sick, and he'd just like to feel normal for once. Sirius Black seems like the perfect man with a perfect, exciting life.

'tis the damn season by moonymoment

Rating: T, 72k words “Where are you going?” Remus turns. Sirius looks delightful; wine-flush and December drizzle painting his pale, pretty face the deepest carmine red. His spindly hands are twiddling at his front, as if he doesn’t know quite what to do with them. He sniffs, and exhales corporeal ice that sends a shiver running down Remus’ spine. He’s not sure if it’s from the cold or the alcohol or… something else. and it always leads to you, and my hometown

ten reasons (to go to michigan) by greyeyedmonster18

Rating: M, 59k words Best-selling novelist Remus Lupin, distraught and torn after his relationship of 10 years ends in nothing but doubt and litigation leaves the bustle of New York City, and retreats to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan in hopes of reconnecting to his childhood and getting his writing spark back. Sirius Black is a local ceramicist and single parent with a backstory all his own, who happens to frequent the coffee shop Remus grew up studying in. Remus for the first time in his life didn't have a plan when he booked a one way plane ticket--except for maybe the plan to never fall in love again. Except... A story of simple pleasures, love, and home. (Modern, Adult Wolfstar AU; set in the states)

Notting Hill by WrappedUp

Rating: M, 23k words Of course, Remus has seen his films and has always thought he's... well, fabulous. But a million miles away from the world he lives in; here, in Notting Hill.

Enigma Variations by Coriaria

Rating: Not rated (officially but actually E), 68k words When Sirius Black is unmasked as a spy, it seems that nearly everyone in Bletchley Park knew all along that something wasn't right about him. But Lily Evans thinks otherwise. She knows that if Black really was a spy, he'd have done it properly, and would have never been caught. Remus Lupin doesn't believe Sirius is a spy either. According to the landlady, she found the stolen ciphers in his room between the pages of a magazine filled with photos of half-naked women. And Remus knows that such a magazine would hold no interest for Sirius. It's not much to go on, but both Remus and Lily are determined to get to the truth. A man's life depends upon it.

Blind and Deaf by Cocomouse

Rating: E, 18k words Remus doesn't do blind dates. They must be the worst possible social situation humankind has ever invented: two strangers some people have decided that maybe they should get in a committed relationship. You have two hours. So no, he wouldn't touch that with a ten yard stick, not if he can help it. But he knows better than to try and argue with Lily, so, here he is.

Text Talk by merlywhirls

Rating: T, 141k words Sirius is in boarding school, Remus is in hospital, and they don't know each other until Sirius texts the wrong number.

Seventeen Hours by eyra

Rating: E, 16k words They had a year in Berlin, and then Orion ordered Sirius back to England to help set up a new department under the firm's South American division. Sirius had been thrilled when Remus turned up in London three weeks later, shrugging and telling him that he'd tired of Berlin, and something in the grey capital had sparked back to life when Sirius returned from reunion drinks at the pub with James and Peter to find Remus - key acquired from Sirius's secretary, he later uncovered - naked on the bed in Sirius's room, head cushioned on folded arms on the silk sheets, knees tucked under and waiting. Sirius and Remus have an arrangement, of sorts. But they’re definitely not together.

Meet Me In The Exosphere by EuripidesTrousers

Rating: E, 108k words “Black, status”, the controller calmly requested. He gritted his teeth and panted as evenly as he could, sounding like he’d just run a marathon, “Maintaining descent… four three zero.” “Copy.” He levelled out just above the 10,000 foot deck and veered right, craning his neck over his shoulder to see Remus’ plane not far behind. Remus’ voice crackled through the comms, deep and smooth, and he had the audacity to sound amused. “Alright, Black? Sound a bit out of breath.” Sirius’ stomach somersaulted. “S’cakewalk, Lupin.” “Good”, Remus rumbled, dropping an octave, “Warm up’s over.” The year is 1996 and Sirius Black is adrift, bouncing numbly between deployments to aircraft carriers with his best friend James Potter, existing purely for the thrill of flying. The year is 1996 and Remus Lupin is desperately holding his aviator career together with all the determination and stubbornness of someone told "You don't belong", in a place that he carved out for himself with his own two hands. When they meet, it's dislike at first sight. Somehow, it ends up being a love story.

Practical Oddities by lurikko

Rating: M, 48k words Regulus needs a place to stay, Remus needs to get over Sirius. It’s August 1979 and things are getting out of hands.

Pas de Deux in the Upper West Side by wilteddaisy (taotu)

Rating: E, 31k words Remus Lupin is a principal dancer with the New York City Ballet. A lead role comes up for grabs in the company's newest ballet and Remus is determined to have it. But only when Sirius Black — oozing talent, charisma and all the elements of a world-class distraction — joins the company does it hang in the balance.

Disarm You With a Smile by five_ht

Rating: E, 45k words Me: hi mr lupin 😊 Mr. Lupin: Hello Mr. Lupin: Are you going to tell me who you are today? Me: i have another hint for you Me: i don't have a dad, but i could sure use a daddy ❤️ Mr. Lupin: And you figure I'm the man for that job? Me: 😜 Me: you tell me

Wilder than Mountain Thyme by TracingPatterns

Rating: E, 110k words Remus Lupin is a disillusioned werewolf who has mostly turned his back on the Wizarding society, content to work his mundane muggle job. That is until his best friend convinces him to join an exclusive study on the Wolfsbane potion at the well-renowned centre outside of Edinburgh. Sirius Black is wizarding royalty, or at least he was until he walked away from his pureblood family to follow his own path in life. After travelling the world and pursuing a career in Magizoology he now finds himself working at one of the highest-ranked centres for magical creatures in the Wizarding world. Their first meeting makes sparks of disdain crackle between them and it seems unlikely that anything, not even the old magic of Edinburgh, will be enough to bridge over the reality of who they are and where they come from.

Beneath a Big Blue Sky by eyra

Rating: E, 68k words The four-by-four heaves its way down long, twisting lanes, little more than dirt tracks scuffed into the surrounding fields and hemmed in by serpentine walls of flat, grey stone. They truly are in the middle of nowhere: the countryside rushes past, all rolling green hills and vast, endless skies, and it's odious. Sirius wants to murder James with his bare hands. Sirius and James accidentally find themselves on a Yorkshire farm during lambing season. The farmer’s son thinks that’s a bit annoying, actually.

To All a Good Night by MsAlexWP

Rating: E, 36k words Sirius Black was supposed to spend Christmas in a luxury Airbnb in Vermont with his best friends. Instead, there's a record-breaking snowstorm, a tiny cabin with no electricity, a viral video, a mysterious last-minute breakup, and sharing a bed with Remus Lupin.

Blends by rvltn909

Rating: M, 192k words Words got in the way sometimes, but Remus got the sense Sirius knew what he was trying to say. - Another coffee shop au.

Heatwave by Krethes

Rating: E, 9k words "Remus strips the soaked shirt from his back, shimmies out of the snitch-emblemed boxers, and pads out into the humid hallway. Despite the temperature outside, it still shouldn’t be so hot in here -- they were wizards, weren't they, and they’d only put about a thousand-and-one bloody cooling charms on this place when they moved in. He pauses at the top of the stairs and sighs -- that had been some thirty-five years ago now, he realizes with a pang of misery that comes when one remembers just how old they are. Grumbling to himself about aging people and aging spells and the absolute unfairness of it all, Remus fetches his wand from the dresser before walking through the entire house. He performs detecting charms in every corner of the house, each room revealing that yes, indeed, there were once cooling charms here, but that they are no longer active. Well, fuck." OR: Another installment of DILF/Mid-Fifties Wolfstar getting their happy ending! Broken cooling charms, a bit of roleplay, and shower sex keep a man young.

call it fate, call it karma by veridity

Rating: E, 103k words Remus wants to be a journalist and Sirius wants revenge. They absolutely hate each other, but they have something in common; an appetite for justice. Or; a University AU in which enemies join forces to take down a corrupt and influential empire through the power of journalistic integrity and unresolved sexual tension.

The Art of Falling in Love by MessusMinnow

Rating: M, 68k words Sirius is a loose cannon who can’t seem to tame himself or actually let people in. Moony is his texting pen pal who he’s never met and is slowly falling for. Remus is slow to trust and scared to be open with anyone except for his mystery pen pal Padfoot.

Forever Live and Die by wolfpants

Rating: E, 84k words It's 1990, and Petunia and Dudley Dursley have been killed in a car crash. Remus Lupin is now Harry's reluctant ward. Thrown back into a world he has long since abandoned, he's forced to confront some painful truths of his past. Or, "what if the Dursleys died and Remus and Sirius reunited earlier"?

My Moony by Whoops_e

Rating: E, 43k words For all that the teasing in the Great Hall hurt him, two words float back to Remus’ memory making him ache. ‘My Moony.’ Remus stares pointedly back into his book. He knows he won’t be able to look at Sirius and not cave. “Remus, darling,” Sirius starts with a teasing melodrama, effectively punching Remus in the stomach. “You have got to start talking to me again.” Don’t look at him. “Because someone used a sticking charm on the Potters and they physically cannot be parted. Peter is snogging now, and all the girls hate me.” ‘You’re better company than being completely alone, I guess,’ is what Remus hears. It’s better this way. “And I miss you,” Sirius adds quietly. - In which Remus loves Sirius so much it hurts, and Sirius can’t figure out why Remus doesn’t want to be his friend anymore.

wading in waist-high water by colgatebluemintygel

Rating: E, 82k words Remus is a PhD student and hobbyist baker who finds himself adrift following his father’s death. On a whim, he enters the Great British Bake Off and is swept up in a flurry of curdled custard, shrunken souffle, and under-proved dough. Remus expects to be challenged and to embarrass himself on public television. What he doesn’t account for are the friendships he develops with the other contestants and the deep connection he forms with his teenage crush, Sirius Black: charming ex-boy band member and Bake Off presenter. or, Sirius groans, dropping his head back into his hands. “It’s the dough,” he mumbles into the skin of his palms. “It’s the kneading. It’s his hands. They’re obscene.” Lily laughs. “They are a bit, aren’t they?”

Fuck It, It’s Fine by R33sesPieces

Rating: E, 25k words Sirius and Remus are madly in love, until they’re not. But even then, they can’t seem to stay away from each other. They’re perfect together, if only everything would stop falling apart. Something that feels so good can’t be a bad idea, right?

tearing air from air by Anonymous

Rating: M, 18k words “Stop,” he spits viciously at the empty room, “fucking haunting me!” or, Sirius is stuck in the Veil and Remus is stuck on the other side. An exploration of grief, family, and loving people even when they want to kill you.

All the Good Things by lurikko

Rating: E, 44k words The summer of 1999: Remus loses his flat and Sirius asks him to stay in Grimmauld Place.

Drifting by Eniaos

Rating: E, 44k words The marauders have been slowly falling apart as they start to build their adult lives. Remus doesn't know if he should fight for his old friends or let them go. A weekend stuck in Edinburgh alone with Sirius changes everything.

Of Bookshelves and Baby Carriers by poppunkpadfoot (StormVandal)

Rating: T, 12k words The customer standing in front of him is quite possibly the most beautiful man Remus has ever seen. Like, he looks like a model or something. He has long, black hair, flattened by water, and just the slightest amount of scruff on his face, and… And a baby strapped to his chest. Okay.

You Can Teach An Old Dog New Tricks by orphan_account

Rating: E, 21 k words This was written for the R/S Kink 2013 challenge. The prompt was: remus / sirius sexy skype call while one is on a mission for the order [this is obviously a modern au] i dont care who gets naked but it’s gotta happen

Just what the doctor ordered by WrappedUp

Rating: E, 97k words This is the story of how Sirius Black finds a dog. Except, it's not really that. This is the story of how Sirius Black finds a dog and meets a skilled veterinary surgeon with crinkly eyes and dimples in his cheeks. Except, that's not really it either. This is the story of how Sirius black finds a dog, meets a skilled veterinary surgeon with crinkly eyes and dimples in his cheeks, and grows the fuck up (at least a little bit).

The Fragile House of Black Series by Fantismal, Jormandugr

Rating: from G to E, 557k words Following the lives of Sirius and (to a lesser extent) Regulus Black as they navigate their family, Hogwarts, and the first wizarding war. Everything follows the story as you know it... until Kreacher decides the young Master Regulus is not going to die tomorrow. This series will get dark. It was also have moments of light. There will be character death and character birth and Remus/Sirius. There will be trust and betrayal and curses and torture and smut and love. But first, you need the childhood. I recommend to start this series with Power the Dark Lord Knows Not

Oneshots:

The Incomplete Recounting of Four Nonconsecutive Tuesdays in the Spring of 2002 by BrujaBanter

Rating: M, 11k words A Few Reasons Remus Suggested They Pursue Couple's Counseling: 1. Sirius was DEAD (no matter how many times he says he wasn't, which is a lot), so that's bloody complicated. 2. They're a "blended family" now and, well, that's also bloody complicated. 3. Sirius Black is an utter fucking mess. 4. They can't just have sex all the time. They can't. Well, maybe they....no, no. They really can't.

Then I Would Come and Find You by RuinsPlume

Rating: M, 3k words This is what saves them every time.

Indiana Lupin and the Search for the Conqueror by nerakrose

Rating: E, 67k words Remus Lupin is an undercover archaeologist for the British Museum and is sent to Greenland to investigate a Roman shipwreck. In Greenland he meets Sirius Black, makes a real discovery and soon enough the two of them are racing through the world in search of the remains of the Library of Alexandria with Remus’ arch-enemy right at their heels.

Gold and Silver Days by busaikko

Rating: E, 2k words Prior to Christmas at Grimmauld Place: Watching the light from the fire play over Remus' hair and face had been what had started the memories. He didn't have many good ones left, and he liked to savour them.

Almost an Accident by lurikko

Rating: E, 5k words A shared bed, a full moon, and a declaration of love, not necessarily in that order.

Frog and Toad Aren't Friends Anymore by swordfishtrombones

Rating: M, 10k words “Is this really all because I wouldn’t live with you?” Remus is still feeling a little fuzzy, but he’s beginning to get chilly and fed up, and he wants to be on common ground. “Some people just aren’t good flatmates. I wasn’t trying to say I liked Adrian and Mary better than you, or whatever you’re thinking.” Sirius runs a hand through his hair and squints at the streetlight, twisting his mouth like Remus is truly hopeless. “It hurt,” says Sirius, “my feelings.”

Sex and Dying in High Society by fluorescentgrey

Rating: M, 12k words London, 1980. It's not yesterday anymore, or: a retrospective as told through '77 punk.

Enjoy Your Worries, You May Never Have Them Again by Anonymous

Rating: E, 6k words “I still don’t trust you to begin a brew after you singed off James’ eyebrows when you forgot to start with water.” “That was one time and I was sixteen.” “That was last spring and you were barred from volatile substances for a month.” Remus mimics the pitch of Sirius’ toshy scoff with such virulent accuracy that Sirius almost drops to one knee and proposes. — Potions: love it or love to hate it, Sirius Black is a sap with an entire Christmas break to brush up on skills he needs to sharpen. If, along the way, he sweeps his favorite prefect ever further off his feet, he won’t complain about it.

Ways to be Gentle by Quietlemonhush

Rating: E, 4k words It wasn’t usually like this. It was usually a little rougher than this. Usually Sirius didn’t really consider it fucking until Remus bit him, until his arm was pulled behind his back. They’re rough together, pushing and snarling even in jest. Even when it was simple, when it was just sex, Remus knew Sirius liked to be held down, to be grounded beneath him, and Sirius knew Remus liked to see a lovemark on the column of his neck. And when it wasn’t simple, when it was more play than sex, then Sirius expected to be thrown against walls, desks, couches, to bounce off the mattress, to shake apart under the force of Remus around him. This was nothing like that. — Sirius has a bad day. Remus reminds him what softness feels like.

Born Under Punches by orestesfasting

Rating: M, 13k words The truth is that he’s kept this love on the back burner of his heart for so many years that he’s grown accustomed to the smell and can sometimes almost ignore it completely. He likes to think he’s made peace with the fact that he’ll never know what it tastes like.

Harmonicas, Hinky-punks, and Heather by mblematic

Rating: M, 24k words Sirius and Remus get stranded in Scotland on Order business, and decide to walk to Hogwarts. Featuring the Brontës, a harmonica, a shrinking tent, and some self-discovery.

two imperfect souls might touch perfection by soloorganaas

Rating: E, 13k words The war is over and Remus is busy running a school for abandoned wizarding youth with his friends. Or rather - they're busy. Remus is trying to figure out who he is after years of his youth were stolen... and how to finally find the words for what he feels for Sirius

tip of my tongue by trustingno1

Rating: E, 3k words "I want to lick you," Sirius announces, and Remus glances up from his parchment. "You do," he says, briskly, "Frequently. In fact, it’s nothing short of miraculous that I don't have worms." "Padfoot does not have worms," Sirius replies. That is an outrageous attack upon his person - his Animagus? - but he won't let the blatant slander sidetrack him - "Not as Padfoot," he persists. "As a sex thing. Sexy licking." Sirius wants to rim Remus. He just wishes he had the words to explain that.

in lieu of beaujolais by aeridi0nis

Rating: M, 19k words Somewhere, there is a very long, meticulously catalogued list of things that Sirius Black does not know. It spans several volumes, actually, page after page bound up in pristine leather, scrawled, dog-eared entries, including (but by no means limited to): what they’re doing here, with all this. How long this could possibly last. What he’ll do when it ends. What he does know, however, is this: he knows that Remus keeps his toothbrush with Sirius’, in the cup by the sink, and his jacket next to Sirius’, on the stand by the front door. He knows he feels odd. If he were to be honest instead of eighteen, perhaps he knows why. or: In which flat-sharing after graduation entails green-tiled bathrooms, cheap red wine and indolence. In which such novelties might be enough to distract a luckier man from his flatmate in the bedroom over. And in which Sirius Black is not a luckier man.

The Great Gay Pornstar Twitter Feud of 2020 by Vixeree

Rating: E, 9k words “So what I’m hearing is that you’ve got a date with your hot, clever, fellow porn-star twitter nemesis, of whom you once said ‘I’d rather die than let that pretentious knobcloud touch my dick’... is that about right?” “... Yes.”  Or; Remus Lupin forgets to turn the fucking camera on.

We Build Our Own Unfolding by imochan

Rating: M, 18k words A welcome overstayed, a funeral at the farmhouse, a diary, a welcome overstayed (again), and a long walk over the hills.

The Rivers of Your Palms by estas_absentis

Rating: E, 5k words 1979: Remus has been away for the Order, Sirius welcomes him home.

[feathered-mushrooms]

I like creative mind projects. This became one of them.

Alright let’s set the basics of this ‘show’. The Xavier Institute, situated in Salem, Westchester, is run by Charles Xavier. A professor, doctor, and world renowned author and scientist. However he possesses a secret, a discovery he made on his travels abroad: mutants. He has returned home and opened a school for those said mutants, and we follow his ‘first class’.

Our main characters, at least for season one, would be the og five. Scott, Jean, Warren, Bobby, and Hank. And guess what? The school actually is a school. They take classes taught by Charles, and do superhero stuff on the side. Here is their everyday clothes:

Think the vibes of X-men Evolution. The show would focus on the dual life of the kids, but would also focus on them being kids. The trouble they get into, the antics they get up to. The drama that comes with being a teenager. Additional clothes(on colder days)

So what is everyone’s backstory?

Scott Summers Scott has a very similar life to the one we know. Parents dead in a plane ‘accident’ and him being separated from his brother in the foster care system. He goes from house to house until his mutation manifests. In which he is thrown into a few bad situations regarding his foster parent using him for his powers, before being found by Charles. Scott was the first student to live on campus, but by far not the first student, however he sees Scott as a father(even if Charles doesn’t see him as his son). He is a mix of the cautious and rather reserved. He’s malnourished body earned him the nickname Slim, but don’t let the meek act fool you. He is sarcastic as you could imagine and has a very strong moral code. He will make a good leader.

Jean Grey Jean’s telekinesis came to her when she was young. Charles has been a constant figure in her life since then, almost taking on what she might call an ‘uncle’ role. He has been working with her for years, and was the first to know when her telepathy manifested, at the death of her best friend. To Charles, she was his first student, and the closest thing he feels he has to a kid. She joins the team last, the premier episode being about her moving into the mansion. She is feisty and spirited. The most reckless of the five, but also oddly balanced in responsibly. She knows she’s powerful and she fears it.

Warren Worthington III Warren’s wings did not grow in until he was away at boarding school. Lucky for him, he could hide them well at first by dropping all the sports he played. Warren used to play the part of an upstuck rich kid very well, but that never was him. When his wings fully came in, he spent the nights saving people from muggers and robbers. He realized it felt good to do something his parents would never do. When Charles offered him a place at the school he toke it, and has been learning to move past his rich ego, however some habits are hard to break. Warren still loves posh language and loves the fact that he is the richest among his friends, but also has a genuine want to help others.

Bobby Drake Bobby always knew he was different. He was gay. Something he found very hard to hide. That was until he found out he was a mutant, something he could hide behind. Bobby’s manifestion consisted of him freezing his entire room and himself, in a very Elsa manner. His parents were outraged, which caused Bobby to realize he could never come out to his parents. Charles came and wiped his parents mind, making everything easier, but Bobby still has the secret he has told no one. A secret he still hasn’t fully realized himself. Bobby hides his self loathing and anxieties behind bad jokes that he hops will be funny. As the youngest on the team, he often deals with the need to prove himself.

Hank McCoy Hank was good at hiding. His physical mutation made him very ape like in appearance, but if he stood the right way, played his card rights, and knew the right people, he could make everyone look past it. He was a genius, but hid behind a football jock exterior, an explanation for his body that made people look past him. Hank joined the school under the belief that he would not need to pretend anymore, and so he let go of his football alter ego. He prefers his academic side and is interested in pursuing the world of knowledge. He has a very academic way of speaking, but oddly really understands human emotion. He pushes himself hard and loves any and every form of learning.

In this show, the X-men was created by Charles as a way to get the public ready for the announcement of mutants, but they become so much more. Charles originally thinks that if the public can see super-powered people helping the world, they will be less likely to attack those people. He designs his perfect team, and even designs their suits.

The team….likes them….kinda

Within the first season, mutants would be exposed to the public and the X-men’s fight focus on the fight of oppression and proving they can be good. Teased in the final moments of season one, Scott will reveal the x-costumes he has designed for everyone. These would be the suits worn from then on forward, representing a switch from being Xavier’s X-men to the X-men that fight for mutant kind.

Additionally we would have lots of very weird love triangles!! Hank is not apart of it, because he very easily finds Vera who becomes his girlfriend. Bobby has a crush on Scott however. He plans to go to the grave with this fact. Warren and Scott both like Jean. Maybe they like each other….who knows? Jean on the other hand has no care in the world for romance at the moment and misses every interaction.

Some of the prominent names that would show up in the first season is of course Magneto. Magneto would be the battle for the first episode, and then there for the reveal of mutants, and then the final battle. He is the big overarching ‘villian’. Other villains would consist of classic 60’s villains such as Vanisher and the rest of the brotherhood. However Scarlet Witch and QuickSilver would not appear till season 2.

Additionally Xavier has a divorcee(that’s not Erik shocker) that is Moria McTaggert. I love the idea of them being bitter exes that have tea with each other and talk shit. Moria is mainly a doctor in Scotland, but would make appearances when one of the kids get to injured. Additionally she has ties to the CIA and aides Charles that way.

Some Pjs and fancy references

Nonetheless, let me know if you want more. I have lots of ideas regarding this and would love to drill on and on again

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts (21) Fire

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 21)

Summary: Rosie muses about her peculiar family, and gets invited/ordered to come to the pub.

Twenty-One Years Old

My family wasn’t exactly what you would call average or normal, but as Dad and Papa constantly pointed out: who wants normal. Certainly, none of us. Being an only child and without any cousins, I was mostly exposed to adults outside school. By now, I think you can agree that that wasn’t as boring as it sounded.

Uncle Myc made sure that our small family was extended when he and uncle Greg finally realised that what they had was too precious to ignore. 

Papa tried to warn the DI in his normally dramatic flair.

“You know this is playing with fire, Gavin? Falling for a Holmes, means there’s no escape. You’ll be trapped for life, and our love is fierce and protective. A bit like that dragon. John, which film was it?”

“The Hobbit,” Dad answered and reassured uncle Greg that he had nothing to fear. “Deep down, they’re as fluffy as new-born kittens.”

This got him glares that brave men would’ve flinched under, but Dad only laughed and gave Papa a kiss on the forehead and uncle Myc a pat on the shoulder. No one knew how to deal with the Holmes brothers like my Dad.

Of course, this didn’t stop Papa’s attempts to abuse uncle Greg’s name but probably increased it. From that day, every name in the book was put to good use. Dad told him he was being childish, but Dad’s poker face in such matters was laughable at best, so he fooled no one. My uncles just rolled their eyes, knowing that arguing with Papa would accomplish absolutely nothing.

The less said about my aunts, the better, but I’m not exactly one who’s able to keep my mouth shut, am I... 

Aunt Harry, the one who was still alive, just barely, by the state of her liver, according to Dad, another one playing with fire, had never been a part of my life. Just like Papa’s deranged and murderous sister, thank God. Dad gave Harry an ultimatum after we moved to Baker Street; get help to get sober or stay away. It sounds harsh, doesn’t it? I had started school when I learned of her existence. We got an assignment to make a family tree.

“Extended and chosen family can also be included,” our teacher told us.

I had no idea what she was talking about, and neither did my friends, so I turned to my main source of information, my parents.

When Dad told me he had a sister, dozens of questions were instantly on the tip of my tongue, but he cut me off before I could utter any of them.

“She’s only my sister by biology, not by heart. You can put her name on the family tree if you like, but she’s sadly not interested in switching the bottle for family.”

“What Dad means, is that the biological part doesn’t always matter. Chosen and extended family can be just as good, sometimes even better,” Papa explained.

***

I found it comforting when uncle Greg moved in with uncle Myc, because the older I got, the more I worried about uncle Myc’s solitary life. He deserved to be loved by others, not just his family. 

The pair were even more peculiar than Dad and Papa. Dad and uncle Greg were much more similar, coming from the same upbringing and social class, while uncle Myc and Papa were posh gits. (Dad and uncle Greg’s words.) But still, they fitted together, just like Dad and Papa.

And where did that leave me? Somewhere in the middle, I guess. I wasn’t really that exposed to the upper classes. That was uncle Myc’s area. At least in the connection with his job. I had the advantage of being raised by people of both societies, though, so I coped better at posh events than Dad for example. Granny and Pops were quite down-to-earth people, who obviously rose to the occasion if need be.

***

Uncle Myc was unable to deny the love of his life anything, but he drew the line when it came to pub quiz nights. He didn’t budge a millimetre when uncle Greg tried to flatter him into participating.

“Myc, love. You would ensure that my team won the whole shebang. At least when the questions are about politics, language, history, mathematics et cetera.”

“Gregory, mon cher,” uncle Myc said softly and arched an eyebrow.

Uncle Greg admitted defeat and turned to me. I was twenty-one, drank alcohol on occasion, and was above average intelligence. Three good reasons to join the team apparently.

***

“So, do I call you uncle, Greg, or Lestrade?” I inquired before we entered the pub.

“Just avoid Gaylord and Grimmwolf,” he deadpanned.

“Those are his latest then?” I giggled.

“John said he looked up obscure ones online when he’d used up all the names in the book he found among Mary’s things.”

“Sounds like Papa,” I replied.

I had seen the book now and again, but I never knew it once belonged to my mother.

Luckily for everyone involved, Philip Anderson was no longer a part of uncle’s team Division. Sally Donovan was, but she and Papa had long since buried the hatchet, and she welcomed me quite civilly.

Uncle Greg mocked me the entire evening for my choice of drink. 

“Sour beer has nothing to do with beer in my opinion,” he scolded looking disgusted at my pink brew.

“I don’t mind what you call it. Your Guinness looks more like tar than beer to me, so I guess we have to agree to disagree,” I retorted. “Now, do you know the answer to the fifth question or not?”

“You’re a good mix of Watson, Holmes, and yourself,” Sally told me after that.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” I said. “Thank you. I take that as a compliment, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. That was the intention. They’re…um…good men and are evidently skilled at parenting. I’ll obviously deny it if I’m ever confronted with this,” she murmured.

Uncle Greg placed another glass of the “undrinkable” beer in front of me and gave Sally’s shoulder a pat.

“Getting sentimental on my, Sally?” he inquired with a smile.

“Hardly,” she scoffed and headed for the bar, but her soft expression gave her game away.

Also available on AO3

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @raina-at @helloliriels

More tags in the replies

[resident-gay-bitch]

May 20; Flowers

Ship; Barty x Lily (Bartylily/deathflower)

@marauders-rarepair-fics

Barty's not really good at all this shit.

You know, all that pish posh romance crap.

He's not really cut out for the nice stuff. He's loud and crude and rough around the edges. Never really grew up experiencing what real love is supposed to feel like, and now he's just confused about it all the time. He thought love was bullshit, actually. A total load of steaming shit.

Until Lily came along.

She rolled her pretty, pretty, pretty green eyes at him and bossed Barty around and now he's head over fucking heals in love with her. Doing just about anything to get her attention, all he wants to do is look at her, and keep her close and safe, and get her to look at him.

She's even got him making a fool out of himself, trying his hand at romance. Regulus and Evan laughed at him this morning, when on their walk around the grounds, he began to pick flowers.

It was Valentines day after all, and walking up to the girl you're in love with and asking if she'd like a shag isn't really boyfriend material. But flowers are, right? Girls like flowers, right?

Bloody hell, what does he know? He only knows that his stupid heart is beating out of his stupid chest as he stands here, with his hand outstretched, with a bouquet of (mostly weeds, actually, but Barty doesn't know the difference) flowers, dead silent, staring intently at the girl who's snatched his heart.

"Are you going to say something, or just stand there like a statue?"

Barty swallowed so thickly he could hear it, "Uh- Uhm, yeah- or- I mean..."

"Barty?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Shit, fuck- shit. Here!" He said, shoving them at her chest, "Date... Date. Me... I mean... please?"

"Are you asking me out on a date?" She asked, putting her quill down to take the messy bouquet. Now that Barty thinks about it, he could have made it look a bit nicer.

He nodded his head quite aggressively, pinks embarrassingly pink. Behind Lily's shoulder, over on the other side of the library, Regulus and Evan were laughing so hard at him they had tears in their eyes.

Lily glared up at him, and Barty thought he might die, "Is this a joke?"

"No!" He rushed out, his voice cracking he was so embarassed, "I... fuckin' hell, I fancy you, Lily. Ain't it obvious?"

Lily's cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink, matching one of the flowers in the bunch before her, "Oh... then yes, I'd love to go on a date with you. How about Friday? Do you think that's enough time to figure out to speak in sentences that consist of more than two words?"

Barty nodded his head, never having felt so excited in his entire life. In a flash, he lent down to kiss the top of her head before rushing back over to his friends. He thinks he might make her up a better bouquet of flowers before their date, maybe he'll break into the greenhouse.

"What the fuck?" Evan said, staring at him blankly.

"I can't believe that worked." Regulus said, clearly confused.

Barty could only grin, feeling like he was on top of the stupid fucking world.

[ssaalexblake]

not to still be on about the socio-economic class of watchers and all, but when Giles reverts to Ripper in Band Candy, his accent goes rough around the edges and he does Not sound like the class he's actually from.

Adult Giles, who is over his Ripper phase and just uses his own accent (which isn't posh, but i cannot imagine suffering through btvs if Giles had an actual upper class accent so i'm fine with that inaccuracy) and occasionally just slips back down again when he's threatening people and it seems to be habitual to him to swap his voice out a bit when he's doing morally questionable things.

Which is interesting anyway, but it's also a really funny parallel with Spike who is Also from that same upper class (if like 100 years before Giles), and when he becomes a ~tough guy~ after he's changed the very first flashback we see of him post vampirism in Fool for Love, he's cockney'd his accent up to like a million to remove himself from the man he was, and the place he was, before. You have to actually like, Live in the place that has an accent for a period of time to pick it up That wholly and we Know the fang gang travelled around and he didn't have time for that.

So both Giles And Spike tried to escape their upper class give away accents by deliberately cosplaying being lower class.

(and don't get me started on the fact that the watcher's council is all tweed suits and high class, but their grunts and muscle are all noticeably much lower class with normal person accents.)

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts 2024, #1

Thank you @calaisreno for providing the prompts.

tagging some more people @raina-at @lisbeth-kk @totallysilvergirl

-----------

OPEN

"Well, short version, not dead! “

Sherlock says with a flourish and starts rubbing off his fake moustache. Which in hindsight has been an utterly stupid thing to do. And say.

John’s face contorts into something undescribable, being suddenly struck by shock and grief and anger and a cacophonous multitude of various other feelings that Sherlock’s mind is too overwhelmed to decipher and too scared to acknowledge right now.

"Two years," John whispers or hisses, rather, "you let me believe you were dead."

A murderous look emerges from the depth of John's turned-into-ice blue eyes and that one sentiment is easy enough to recognize.

Sherlock shivers as the deadly cold wraps him in an uncomfortable and suffocating blanket. He stands still like the statue of a fool that he apparently is, thinking about how he has fantasized his return to John would play out. How he would come back from the dead and be welcomed by John's wide open arms and then get dragged into a crushing hug. How could he have been so wrong? This has all been a cardinal mistake.

John stands up to face Sherlock, his breathing becomes rapid and shallow and for a split second Sherlock thinks that John is going to hyperventilate.

All the while this woman named Mary stares at them both him with wide open eyes, uttering small squawking noises. Sherlock briefly wonders if these are sounds of indignation over having her proposal interrupted or being surprised by his return before he concludes that he does not care about either possibility and least of all cares about the woman herself.

"Two years," John huffs sharply and Sherlock is once again pinned down by glacier-cold blue eyes, "you let me grieve."

"John, I..."

Sherlock flinches the moment when he sees John's hand clench into a white-knuckled fist. But still, he is caught totally unawares when John suddenly hurls himself at Sherlock, fisting the collar of his tuxedo and makes them both fall to the floor with a loud thud.

The other people in the posh restaurant begin to stare open-mouthed at them like a shoal of morbidly fascinated goldfish.

John comes to lie on top of Sherlock and then Sherlock is caught totally unawares for the second time in mere seconds because instead of smashing his fist against Sherlock's nose John instead smashes his lips against Sherlock's mouth. John snogs the living daylights out of him and only stops when he has to suck some desperately needed fresh oxygen into his lungs.

Sherlocks heart pumps deafeningly loud in his ears and he just lies there, stunned, only able to breathe which is suddenly not boring at all and he stares into John's wetly glistening clear-blue eyes.

"Did you just kiss me?" Sherlock says which means reaching just another level of stupidity.

"Did you just kiss him?" Parrots Mary. This time she is clearly squawking with indignance.

John's sudden smile is like a sun radiating blinding happiness.

"I swore that if I ever get a second chance I’d be open to you."

"What?" Sherlock squawks now, too. Just when he has thought it could not get any more embarrassing.

"Open about my feelings, I mean." John giggles. "I love you, Sherlock!"

"John." Sherlock breathes.

"John!" Mary screeches.

John does not care. "You are never to leave me ever again!" He commands and kisses Sherlock once more with even more fervour than before.

John's lips all over his face again and this surpasses Sherlock's wildest imagination about returning to John by far. His back aches but it is nothing against the electric shocks that John's lips send through his body and down his spine.

This time Sherlock is prepared.

When John's tongue impatiently demands entry, Sherlock embraces John's mouth with his own and welcomes him home with wide-open lips.

----------

Yay, I made the first prompt!

[janamelie]

New Red Dwarf Challenge

Day 18: Five Favourite DAVE Era Episodes

Give And Take

Come on, as though I'm not going to include this hilarious double entendre from Rimmer. :D

This episode was very obviously written to recall Series V and since I adore that series, I appreciate it.  Scary Asclepius, adorable Snacky, time travel shenanigans and a twist which puts the opening scene in a whole new light.  Love it.

Trojan

There was a lot riding on this episode as the Series X opener, given it was the first regular-length episode for 13 years and needed to consolidate the Dave era after the ratings success of “Back To Earth”.  “BTE”’s format-breaking had worked as a one-off but both fans and those involved with the show wanted a return to half-hour eps in front of a live audience.  (Which I was in.  Amazing.)

Which was exactly what they got and it works so well, reintroducing us to these characters and showing us how bonded they’ve become as the crew agree to a silly charade to help Rimmer fool his visiting brother.

Ah, Howard.  Props to Mark Dexter for giving such a good guest performance that I really wish he could return for an encore.  Everything about him makes sense as Rimmer’s older brother and it’s just so much fun to finally properly meet one of Rimmer’s awful family and have them interact with our crew.

All this plus the moose joke and our Boyz in snug Star Trek style jumpsuits.

Twentica

In which our Dave era DILFs are transported to an alternate America where they get to cosplay and are bamboozled by sexy female scientists.  If that summary doesn’t appeal, I think you’re watching the wrong show.  It’s just a lot of fun.

Skipper

And if Kryten wasn't there...

Did I mention I love AU episodes?  Love the return to pre-accident versions of Red Dwarf, Posh Lister, Rat, Captain Lister etc, etc.

Plus the first half of the episode where the Boyz encounter weird timey-wimey smeg and Lister can’t resist messing with Cat is also great.  Fantastic stuff.

The Promised Land

And of course "TPL" is in a class of its own, far and away the most successful venture past the 30 minute mark for this show.

It gives us sympathetic characters in the fugitive Cats, a good villain in Rodon, drama with factory settings Holly and of course the wonderful Moonlight scene.

(All gifs made by myself using this site. https://smegadrive.ganymede.tv/)

[poetryvampire]

you and me are Rolan pantie thief truthers! I wonder if there are more of us?

But anyways I know his posh butt is a fool for some of Tavs panties, they have just gotten down relishing in each other’s embrace. Tav is leaving tomorrow to go on a week long visit to emerald grove. They will be gone for a few days… and Rolan doesn’t think he will be able to make it a week without his love…

But oh? Just from the coner of his eye he sees the dainty fabric he had pulled off them earlier… and Tav wouldn’t notice… so while Tav is in the bathroom Rolan cast mage hand and slips their panties into his robes pocket…

It doesn’t fully satisfy how much he misses Tav… but it does help ease the ache… Rolan presses the crotch to his nose taking a deep whiff as he palms his cock faster, the tip drooling with precum he wishes that wasn’t wasted on the floor but instead in you… the thought of being buried deep makes him fist his cock faster, his tongue dragging across the material desperately hoping for a lingering taste.

During his post nut clarity he will chastise himself for being a pervert… but he’s still being the material to his nose after a while, needing to feed his addiction…

He doesn’t know if he will last anymore days… or if you will ever get your panties back in one piece.

GODS this is literally perfect. I'm so so normal about this idea omg thank you 💜💙💜💙💜💙

Also rip i'm so sorry this got lost in my drafts for so long 😥

You're so so right. It would def start out like that, with Tav being away and him longing for them like a sad lil puppy. He's also totally alone so he'd feel a little more comfortable to indulge. Rolan's 100% his own worst enemy and beats the hell out of himself over the kink. He's embarrassed just how much he likes it and doesn't want anyone-especially Tav- to ever find out.

But rip once he does it boy is HOOKED. At first he promises himself only to do it when they're away, which doesn't happen terribly often. Still he tires to keep to his word...until he just happens to find a pair under the bed, surely tossed away in the heat of the moment. Before he can even form a debate he's huffing into them, rutting into his fist as fast as he can. Needless to say Rolan ends up indulging much more than he wants to admit. He makes a habit of nabbing a pair and keeping them with him when he's particularly stressed. Nothing get's him off as hard and fast. They're prefect for when he's locked in his office, desk heaping with notes and papers on a spell he just can't get right.

Of course, it doesn't take that long for Tav to catch on. At first they thought they were just misplacing them. Until enough go missing altogether. As much as Rolan tries to be gentle he's ripped some apart with his teeth or by wrapping them around his cock. And it's certainly strange how the panties only go missing right after they've worn them. One day Tav just asked Rolan without much thought. It's not like they haven't stolen his shirts or sweaters before. Terrible lair as always, it's the look of horror on the wizards face as he brushes it off that confirms it. Tav is ready to push him on it until they clock just how red(der) he's turned and it dawns on them. They decide to take a different path to broach the subject.

A few days later Tav makes a point get back from an early morning workout not long before Rolan is headed to work. As he rambles to them about the drudgery waiting for him from the other room, Tav slyly slips off their panties and neatly places them in the inner pocket of his robe. They finish just in time for Rolan to grab it from them before kissing their head and hurrying out the door.

[canirove]

Rice, Rice, baby | Chapter 28

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

“And what did you say people call this?” my mum asks.

“Babymoon. It's like a honeymoon but for parents, and it is a trip where you get to relax and spend some time alone before the baby comes” I explain.

“Then why are you going with Kennedy? I'm sure she went with James to hers.”

“Because I have no one else to go with and she is the one gifting me this trip.”

“What about Alex?”

“Mum” I sigh. “How many times do I have to tell you that I want nothing from Alex? That I'm done with him after everything he's done?”

“But Olivia, he is your baby's father!”

“No!” I yell. “He…”

“Everything ok, darling?” my dad says, suddenly showing up at my room's door and interrupting me before I say something that I shouldn't. “James is downstairs waiting for you.”

“Thank you, dad. Would you mind carrying my luggage?”

“Of course, darling” he smiles, looking at my mum before leaving.

“Olivia…” she says behind me. “Whatever has happened, you know you can tell me, right? That you can trust me.”

“I know, mum.”

“Then why don't you tell me?”

“Because it is… complicated. And I don't have time to explain it right now.”

“What if we have a date just the two of us when you come back, uh? We can go shopping, have lunch… Whatever you are in the mood for. But in one condition” she says. “That you must tell me what is going on.”

“I… Ok, mum.”

“Thank you, Olivia” she says before hugging me. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“What took you so long?” Declan says while Madders helps me get out of the car.

“Traffic, bro” he says. Because my babymoon isn't with Kennedy as my parents think. It's with Declan.

He had suggested the idea after Aaron had told him that he and Georgina had had one and really enjoyed it, and since he was suspended due to yellow cards, he organized us a little trip to the countryside to one of those super posh and super private hotels where famous people go to not get bothered.

“You could have texted me or something.”

“Sorry” I smile. “We got a bit carried away with our singing contest.”

“Oh, so that's why those black clouds were following you, uh?” Declan smirks.

“At least we don't sing “Rice, Rice, baby” in front of the whole country and make a fool of ourselves.”

“Oh, that's low, Liv” he laughs. 

“Oh my God!” Madders suddenly says. “How have I been so stupid?”

“What?” Declan and I say, looking at him.

“Rice, Rice, baby! The nickname was right there in front of me and I didn't use it!”

“The… what are you talking about, James?” I ask him.

“The baby's nickname, Liv! We could have been calling him Rice, Rice, baby and singing the song and we've basically missed the chance!”

“Thank God.”

“So rude, Olivia. So rude” Declan laughs again. “But maybe it was for the better, so don't start now, Madders.”

“But…”

“No” I say, threatening him with my finger. “Now if you'll excuse me, our babymoon awaits.”

“Yes, of course, of course. Enjoy” he winks, making me roll my eyes. “Take care of them, Dec.”

“Always” he says before putting my luggage inside the car and joining me. “I made you something for the trip.”

“Please tell me you didn't try to bake me something.”

“As if you hadn't eaten all the cookies I made the last time” he says, rolling his eyes.

“I ate them because I was hungry, nothing else.”

“Yeah, sure. But it isn't something you can eat. It is something you have to listen to.”

“What?”

“I made you a playlist” Declan says with a shy smile. ”It's just a bunch of songs I know you like, some that we've both enjoyed listening to together, and a few that remind me of you.”

“There are songs that remind you of me?” I ask, trying really hard not to cry. Because that is the cutest thing someone has ever done for me.

“Yep” he smiles. And call me crazy, but I could swear he is blushing. Declan Rice… is blushing. Oh my God. “Anyway, should we get going? I want to be out of the city before rush hour.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Do you want to listen to it now?”

“Please” I nod.

“Here we go” he smiles again as he starts the car, the screen on the dashboard showing that the playlist is called “Liv ❤” and that the first song is…

“No way!” I laugh.

“You were a One Direction girl, weren't you?” Declan smirks.

“I was and I am.”

“Then this song had to be there…” he winks as Niall Horan sings “Oh, I love you, I love you, I love, I love, I love Olivia.”

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“I can't believe we just crossed paths with Richard Madden!”

“Who?” Declan says, looking for our rooms. 

“Richard Madden! Robb Stark!”

“I don't know who that is.”

“How can you not know who Robb Stark is? Didn't you watch “Game of Thrones”?"

“No.”

“Declan!”

“What?” he chuckles.

“I can't believe you haven't watched one of the best shows of the last decade. It is Mason's favourite!”

“How do you know that?” 

“He said it during an interview.”

“Now you watch Mason's interviews?” he asks, arching an eyebrow. 

“No, I… I mean…”

“Oh my God, Liv! Do you fancy Mason?” he laughs.

“Of course not!”

“Then why are you blushing?” 

“I'm not blushing, Declan” I say, hitting him with my bag.

“The mother of my son fancies my best friend. Unbelievable.”

“I don't fancy him!” I say, hitting him again while he just laughs. “At least not anymore.”

“So you did fancy him!”

“I had a little crush years ago, ok?” I confess, my face burning. “Now, have you found our rooms or not? I could do with a nap.”

“I think they are the ones over there” he says, pointing towards a big cabin at the end of the path we had been following. “We are next to the lake and have a little outside area that looks at it and from where I thought we could have breakfast tomorrow morning. Maybe sit down at night wrapped up in a blanket and look at the stars.”

“So romantic, Declan” I chuckle, speaking before thinking.

“I am very romantic” he smiles, making my heart skip a beat. Or two. We are off to a great start.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“I could get used to being rich, you know?”

“What?” Declan laughs.

“Coming here at least once a month and getting all pampered is the best plan ever. A massage in the morning, spa in the afternoon, some beauty treatments here and there, breakfast in bed…” That was what we had actually been doing since arriving the day before: be treated like royalty. 

“I can do the breakfast in bed.”

“But can you massage my legs and feet the way Patricia did?”

“I can try” he shrugs before tapping his hand on his thigh. “C'mon.”

“What?”

“Put your legs here, let me try.”

“Are you serious?”

“I am. C'mon, Liv. I've been having massages on my legs for years, I think I know a thing or two about how it is done.”

“Ok…” I say, slowly moving on the sofa until I'm lying down and my legs are on his lap, tightening my dressing gown around my body to not show him anything. I'm wearing a swimsuit and he's seen everything that there is to see, but…

“Try to relax, ok?”

“Easier said than done.”

“I'm not going to injure you, Liv” he chuckles.

“Yeah…” I say, biting my lip to stop me from gasping as his hands move up my legs, massaging them but not making me feel the same as Patricia had managed to. With her I felt myself relaxing, almost falling asleep. With Declan, all my senses are alert, my body temperature going up by the second. Because he is turning me on. And badly. 

“How does it feel?”

“Uh?”

“The massage, Liv. Is it good?” he asks, his hands moving up on my thighs and getting dangerously close to where I would not mind having him massaging me. 

“Yes, yes. But my feet need it more than my thighs” I manage to say.

“Feet it is, then” Declan says as he focuses on them while I let out a big breath I hope he hasn't heard. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“When people do this in movies they never tell you how boring it is.”

“Liv!” Declan laughs.

“You know I'm right. Like, yeah, the sky is pretty and all that. But after five minutes you've seen it all” I shrug. “And my neck is starting to hurt.”

“Come here, then” he says, gesturing me to move closer to him. It is the last night of our babymoon and we are sitting outside our cabin, wrapped up in blankets and looking at the night sky as he had suggested we should do. “You can rest your head on my shoulder. If I recall correctly, you used to say it is very comfortable.”

“It surprisingly is, yes” I chuckle, sitting next to him and doing as he has suggested while he puts his arm around me, pulling me even closer. 

“I've missed this” Declan says after a few seconds in silence, his eyes still fixed in the sky.

“Me too” I whisper.

“I'm sorry, Liv.”

“What?” I say, moving to look at him.

“I'm sorry about what happened last summer. About the way I treated you, about how I behaved. I was a dick” he says, still looking up. How can he have such a perfect profile? It's not just his nose. It's his jawline, the shape of his Adam's apple, his lips, his eyelashes… Everything. And then you add the way the moonlight is lighting up all the right places and… “I'm sorry, Liv” he says, finally looking down at me. And when our eyes meet, I can't help but gasp. He is simply gorgeous. 

“It's ok” I whisper, still trying to process that this is real. Him, and this place, and everything I'm feeling.

“You didn't deserve that” Declan says while caressing my cheek, the noise that leaves my mouth being closer to a moan than a gasp. “I should have… I… Urgh” he groans, looking up again. 

“It's ok” I repeat, resting my hand on top of his, on the one that still is on my face. “It's ok, Declan.”

“No, it isn't, Liv” he says, looking down at me again. “Because I… I… Liv, I…”

“It's ok” I repeat once again before leaning forward and kissing him. 

At first he doesn't do anything, I've definitely caught him off guard. But when he finally reacts and kisses me back… Dear God. That probably is the best kiss of my entire life. 

“Liv” he whispers against my lips. “Liv, this…”

“Please don't talk.”

“But I need to, Liv. There are things I need to tell you, things that have been eating me alive for months, things you need to know.”

“You can't tell me tomorrow.”

“But Liv…”

“Tomorrow” I say before kissing him again. I will worry about what this means and what he has to tell me tomorrow. Right now, all I want to do is enjoy this moment, savour every second of it. 

Right now, I just want him.

[estoricwaterlane]

A Fools Gamble

character: Thomas Shelby

fandom: Peaky Blinders

pairing: Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

tags: fluff,romance,slowburn

a/n: heyy guys I'm back took a long break lol

She looked around the train station, feeling lost and disoriented.

She had never ventured so far from her posh, upper-class home in London before, and the only time she had ever been to Birmingham was when her parents dragged her to visit the country's biggest industrial center for the annual Cotton Fair.

Her thoughts shifted to the reason for her journey, and her face flushed with excitement at the memory of their secret rendezvous.

She called over a porter and inquired about the whereabouts of the Marriott Hotel.

The man politely directed her to the ticket booth, where she purchased a ticket for the local tram. She climbed aboard the trolley and marveled at the bustling crowds milling about. There she saw him, a strikingly handsome man with dark, wavy hair and piercing blue eyes.

She knew immediately that she had to have him.

Once they reached the hotel, she slipped the porter a few extra pounds to procure her a room for the evening, and then she entered the bar, hoping to catch the gentleman's eye. "May I fetch you a drink?" she asked him seductively.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you speaking to me, miss?"

"I am. Are you opposed to beautiful women approaching you, Mr. . . ?"

"Mr. Shelby, Thomas Shelby," he replied.

People at all corners of the bar were eyeing you as if you were some sort of spectacle, and it was something that she was used to.

Being from a wealthy family had its perks, but the attention was something that she disliked.

"Well, Mr. Shelby, I shall take your silence as a yes, and shall get you the finest Scotch in Birmingham," she said, flagging down the barman.

"I don't like being patronized," Mr. Shelby replied.

"Neither do I," she said. "Tell me, are you a betting man?"

Mr. Shelby's eyes lit up with interest. "I am, although I'm afraid I don't gamble with women," he said.

She pulled out a handful of bills from her purse and slid them toward him. "Then I suggest we bet on whether or not you will fall in love with me."

Mr. Shelby smirked. "And what are the stakes?"

"If I win, you will join me in my hotel room for the evening. If you win, then I will buy you a bottle of the finest Scotch to help you forget all about me."

He looked at his watch. "It's getting rather late, Miss . . ."

"___," she responded. "Miss ___."

"If you'll excuse me, Miss ___, I have a business appointment to attend."

He slipped the money back into her purse and walked toward the door. She sat back and took a sip of her cocktail, watching him go.