#maybe squashies

[walkman-cat]

i actually have to get the portfolio done today if it kills me and i will do it !!

[creepyscritches]

Almost done with a giant squishy queen blanket and I've been ogling an even squishier pattern already lmao....anyway think next one I make might be this crazy double layer weighted pattern 🤔 or maybe I'll save this for someone else???

[azurexsnake]

Wolfwood is one of those characters I want to write for so badly but every time I think I have a thought I can’t put it into words that make any kind of sense at all. Just hysterical crying in a post I end up deleting every time

[wewontbesleeping]

I want to get some feather pillows

[marauder-misprint]

happy 500 followers i’m so happy for you!!

can you write 62 for the dialogue prompt with remus? maybe she’s james’ sister and a flirt just like him. bc jealous rem ✅✅ they’re dumb for each other but sooo oblivious

Thank you for the request ❤︎

I definitely had a moment writing where I was laughing to myself. You flirt with Remus for years: James has no problem. You say one flirtatious line to Sirius: James asks what's wrong with you.

What you need

Remus Lupin x Potter!reader

2.9k words

cw: fluff, mutual pining, angst

You and James were dual threats. Quidditch stars, academic weapons when you chose to be, friendly, attractive and flirtatious. He had his sights set on Lily and you had yours on Remus. Your methods, however, differed. While James showered Lily with compliments and asked her out daily, you had a more gentle approach. You were drawn to Remus, plenty happy to just sit in his presence. You showered him with compliments as well and made him the center of your world, but you felt that, like Lily, he didn’t reciprocate your feelings. 

You didn’t let it deter you though. You knew he was more reserved than the rest of the Marauders. You decided you would play the long game and wait. He would ask you out. Eventually. 

You collapsed next to Remus on the couch in the common room with an exaggerated sigh. You leaned your head on his shoulder to see what book he was reading.

“The various color changes in the wiggenweld brewing process are essential to the process and without them, the potion will be rendered useless. Substitutions, while appropriate in other potions, will drastically reduce the effectiveness,” you read over his shoulder. “Merlin, Moony, what are you reading? I know Slug didn’t assign this.”

“Just reading up on healing potions. Never know when you’ll need one,” he said.

You hummed and adjusted your body so you were closer to him. 

“Must be something more interesting going on now, though, right?”

“Prongs, Padfoot and Wormtail all have detention.”

“I know,” you laughed. “Maybe we could do something! You know, just the two of us!”

You tried to not sound too excited at the idea. It was a rare opportunity that the other three had detention while you and Remus got off scot-free. 

“Oh, well, I was planning on reading…”

“You could read out loud?” you suggested, desperate for some attention from him. “Maybe I’d learn something.”

“No good at reading out loud,” he mumbled.

“It’d be good practice, Moons. You know I won’t judge. Plus, you have a nice voice.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his face turn a pink hue. You nudged him gently. 

“Come on, read to me,” you sang softly. 

Remus, feeling flustered, stood up.

“Please excuse me,” he said, leaving you on the couch alone.

You watched him retreat to his dorm with a frown on your face. Once again, it hadn’t gone as you had hoped. This wasn’t the first time you had alone time with Remus and he left just after you made him blush. You grumpily moved over into the spot he previously occupied. It was warm and faintly smelled of him; it was the second best thing right now. 

It didn’t take long before Lily sat down in the squashy armchair near you. 

“Why the long face Potter?” she asked. “Missing brother dearest and the troubled gang?” 

You made a face at her, earning you a laugh. Oh, how James would’ve smiled and stared if he were here. 

“They aren’t all in detention, Lils,” you told her.

“Well, you’re not. That would be at least one.”

“Ha,” you said dryly. “No, um, Remus is upstairs. Reading.”

“Huh. Doesn’t he usually read down here when they aren’t around?”

“Mhmm.” You took a deep breath. “He was for a bit.”

Lily nodded. “You’re in his spot, aren’t you?”

“Maybeeee,” you replied quietly, turning your face to look at the fire. “Smells like ‘im,” you added in a mumble.

She laughed again. “Potter, you’re doomed.”

You looked back at her so she could see you roll your eyes and then you returned your gaze to the flames. You knew you were doomed. You would follow Remus to the ends of the earth. You sat next to him whenever you could. You knew how he liked his tea and which quill was his favorite. You knew his ranking of tables in the library, the ones best for studying alone, studying in a group and prank planning. You knew which sweater was the comfiest because he wore it after every full moon. You adored him and he couldn’t seem to stand to be alone with you for more than a few minutes. 

“So, what’d you say to him?”

“What?” Your head snapped back to Lily.

“He was reading in that spot and now he’s not. What made him go upstairs?”

“I asked him to read to me.”

“That all?” 

You nodded, with a confused look on your face. If Lily thought it would’ve taken more to chase Remus away, perhaps something was up with Remus that you didn’t know about.

“Bit strange. I thought he would read to you,” she said lightly. Then she pulled out her own book and waved it in front of your face. “I could read to you if you want.”

“Not the same and you know it. But, if I were James…” you teased. 

“If you were James, I’d be up in our dorm avoiding him.”

Like Remus is doing…

“You read. In your head. I’m going to the pitch... I need air.”

---

When you went to the pitch alone, you used it as a time to think, to clear your head. Did you need to practice because Gryffindor was playing Slytherin this week? Yes. But you also need to think. You’ve loved Remus for years and, well, something clicked while you were flying. He just didn’t like you that way and you had to make your peace with that. 

You started small. You didn’t sit next to Remus at breakfast although you still had his tea ready for him when he arrived at the table. A look of confusion passed over his face when he saw you sitting between Sirius and Mary. He didn’t say anything about it, nor did anyone else. 

Your next step was more direct. You sat next to Otto Bagman in your first class instead of Lily. That caught the eye of some people. Even more so when you let your hand linger on his shoulder longer than you should have and flashed him your brilliant smile. You laughed loudly at his lackluster jokes. 

During the next class, you chose Stubby Boardman. And Gildeory Lockhart in the next. And Gideon Prewett. And Bertram Aubrey. Each got your flirtatious treatment. None made you feel like Remus did, but it was nice to have their attention. 

At dinner, you pulled a move that none of them were expecting. You sat between Sirius and Mary like you had at breakfast. But you sat closer to Sirius than you usually did. It was a closeness you reserved solely for Remus. 

The boys were discussing their next prank and determined that they would need to sneak into Slughorn’s private stores first in order to pull it off.

“I think Sirius should be the distraction. He’s got something super captivating about him, don’t cha think?” you said, leaning forward a bit. 

You flashed him a soft smile as you rested your hand on his shoulder. If you hadn’t been looking at Sirius, you would’ve seen the glares that he immediately received from both James and Remus. 

“Don’t know if Slug is particularly captivated by me, love,” Sirius said, looking down at you and matching your soft smile. Then a wicked glint appeared in his eyes as he turned back to the boys. “But, running in yelling about an exploding potion down the corridor? See how fast the old man can run!” 

James’ expression changed in a flash. He slammed his hand down on the table.

“Brilliant, Padfoot!” 

Remus, on the other hand, let his glare hold longer, only dropping it when Peter addressed him, asking him to repeat what they needed to get from storage. You remained close to Sirius for the rest of the meal as you offered your ideas for getting past Slughorn and for the actual prank. When you excused yourself after you finished, James followed you out of the hall and walked with you back to Gryffindor Tower.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” he asked.

“Obviously.”

“So then, what was that back there? What’s going on with you and Sirius?”

You stopped walking in shock. You spend years flirting with Remus and no comments from James, but one comment toward Sirius and now he’s suddenly concerned with your love life? James turned to fully face you and you frowned at the concern on his face.

“Nothing. There’s nothing between me and Sirius,” you said, sounding a bit incredulous. 

“Then what the bloody hell was that comment at dinner? He’s like super captivating, he he he,” he mimicked in a falsetto.

You took a calculated step toward James while reaching for your wand.

“I do not sound like that.”

“What was the comment for then?” he repeated the question for the third time. “You don’t flirt with Padfoot.” 

You clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes. 

“I had… a moment of clarity. Obviously, Moony isn’t right for me and I’ll get over him with whoever I need to.” 

You huffed before stalking away from your brother. He stood there and watched you leave, utterly shocked by what you said. Obviously was a strong word in his opinion. He thought the obvious thing was the effect you had on Remus; Remus was hopelessly in love with but too insecure to do anything and you were waiting for him to make a move. 

You continued to flirt with the boys throughout the rest of the week, with Gideon being the main recipient. Being a fellow Gryffindor and on the quidditch team gave him an easy foot up over the rest. James didn’t say anything more to you, really just being glad it wasn’t Sirius but still showing his concern nonverbally from across the room. 

When he could, Remus would find an excuse to leave whenever you were with Gideon. He couldn’t dismiss how sick it made him feel. Somehow he had been the one receiving your attention for so long that he didn’t realize how much of his day was actually spent with you around, and he didn’t realize how cold he’d feel without your warmth. Instead, he now had to watch Gideon bathe in your compliments and subtle touches. Remus hated it. 

When the weekend came, the whole school descended on the quidditch pitch for an exciting game. Gryffindor versus Slytherin always brought excitement. Every student donned either green or red, even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. The game was a compilation of incredible plays and dirty moves. In the end, Gryffindor pulled through as your seeker caught the snitch. Usually, after a Gryffindor win, you’d search for Remus’ arms the moment you landed, but this time was different. You immediately found Gideon and let his arms be the ones to wrap around you and spin you around. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. You didn’t mind that it wasn’t Remus; it was nice to be the one receiving the doting for once. 

Gideon’s attention followed you all the way back to the common room for the party that ensued. You knew you had eyes on you - you could feel them. In the past, after a win, you’d have one drink in your hand and you’d nurse it while hanging around the outskirts of the party with Remus. You’d maybe do shots with James because no win was possible without the Potter Twins. This time, however, you were not standing around the edge of the party with Remus. Nor were you nursing a singular drink. 

You were multiple drinks in and dancing with Gideon. His hands were traveling your body and you made no moves to stop him. You just kept moving to the music and taking sips of your drink. 

Remus felt like throwing up at the sight. He had half a mind to walk up to you and tear you away from the ginger. He knew you could do better than Gideon, but if asked who, Remus would want to say himself, but was he better than Gideon? Once again, Remus let his insecurities get the best of him; he retreated to his dorm unable to watch you dance like that with another guy who wasn’t him. 

You finished your drink and felt Gideon lean into your ear. 

“Do you want to celebrate somewhere more… private?” he whispered. 

You smiled at him before saying, “Refill first!” 

James had been keeping an eye on you and Gideon for a while. He didn’t like the way that Gideon was touching you, just as much as he didn’t like how much you were drinking. You were certainly not in your right mind. He intercepted you on your way to the drink table.

“I’m cutting you off,” he said curtly before leading you to the stairs. 

You pouted but allowed yourself to be ushered up to his dorm. In your head, you planned to sneak back down to the party the instant that James left you in his dorm. Once inside, he brought over to his bed and you sat down, crossing your arms. 

“You need to sober up a bit. Um, here’s a water. You know extra blankets are in my trunk. Loo’s over there. Got your wand? Need anything else?” 

You groaned in annoyance. “I’m fine, James,” you slurred. “But you know what I actually need.”

“Hm? What’s that?”

“To get over these damn feelings for Lupin!” you basically spat. “Can’t very well do that if I’m up here, can I? He won’t ask me out, won’t kiss me, can’t stand to be around me. Why you stopping me from moving on?” 

“I-I…” he stuttered, trying not to look over at where Remus was sitting on his own bed with wide eyes. “I’m preventing you from making a decision you might regret.”

“James… James, James, James. I’m fine. Just let me get over being in love with Remus.”

James can’t help it. His eyes flickered to Remus. Yours immediately followed where his went. Remus was staring at you with a faint blush on his cheeks. Because why did you just say that you needed to get over being in love with him?

“Shit,” you muttered, falling back onto James’ bed. “Now I’ve said too much.”

“I’m… going to leave… and let you two… talk,” James said slowly, trying to sound casual and topping it off with snaps and finger guns.

“You’re… in love with me?” Remus asked nervously.

You made a noise that’s a mix of a scoff and laugh.

“Only been bloody head over heels for you for years, you twat.”

“You’ve been,” he muttered, not quite believing you. 

“A girl can only flirt so hard,” you said with a heavy sigh. 

“You were flirting?” 

“With you. For years. Keep up, Lupin.”

There was a slight pause before he said softly, “You don’t call me Lupin.”

“I didn’t when I was in love with you.” 

“Was?”

“Moony, Merlin’s fucking beard,” you exclaimed, propping yourself up on your elbows briefly. “Did you not just hear me tell James that I’m trying to get over you? You clearly don’t like me back so stop making it harder!”

You let yourself fall back onto James’ bed with a ‘humph.’ You stared up at the canopy. Then you felt the bed sink next to you and you don’t need to look over to know that Remus has joined you. 

“You actually like me?” he whispered. 

“If I have to say it one more time, I swear, Moony, I will curse-”

“You like me.” This time it was a statement. Remus doesn’t believe it yet, but he didn’t need you to finish your threat. “And it’s real. Not a prank or cruel joke or anything?”

You rolled onto your side so that you could see him.

“Stop pretending to be dense. It’s been hard enough coming to terms with you not liking me like that.”

“No!” 

You blinked at him with a confused expression.

“Um, I… I do like you. Like that.”

“Remus… don’t tease me right now. You can’t stand to be alone with me for more than a minute.”

“Because I don’t trust myself to not kiss you.” He swallowed and allowed his eyes to flick down to your lips. “It’s easier to control myself when James, or anyone else, is around. But when it’s just you and me, and you say those sweet things… I just…”

“Those sweet things,” you repeated with quiet laughter. “You mean my flirting?”

“Yes. That.”

He stopped talking for a moment. He reached out to caress your face. 

“I just thought you could do better than me.” 

You scoffed at the idea that someone was able to be better than Remus.

“But seeing you with Aubrey, Lockhart, Bagman… Prewett…” Remus sighed. “It was hell.”

“So, what you’re saying is you’d like me to keep flirting with you and only you?” you asked softly before your teasing nature returned. “I don’t know about that, Moony. I might need something in return.” 

“Anything.”

“Ask me out?”

“I… I can do that.” He cleared his throat. “Would you do me the honor of going on a date with me? Hogsmeade, next weekend?”

“Of course, you idiot,” you said before placing a quick kiss on his lips.

“Oh, and one more thing.”

You hummed.

“Never flirt with Prewett again. It was nauseating.” 

You laughed. “Just kiss me until my brother comes back, Moony.”

[redflagshipwriter]

Mamabat- enter Jason 1/2

MASTERPOST

The air was different with Cass, now. Danny felt a little anxious as he followed her to the study after breakfast. Something about her was serious-determined-protective. 

She always felt protective towards him. That was why he'd followed her in the first place. Some ghosts lied, but they couldn't do it with their aura. He knew what she really felt for him. 

“Sit?” She asked him. She gestured at the big squashy chair. Danny did without complaint. Cass perched behind him and started dragging her fingers through his hair, relaxing him.

Man. She was good at this. Top tier mothering, right here. Danny went limp. 

“I'm worried,” Cass broke the silence. She didn't sound worried. She never really did. Her voice was quiet and serious, but still kind. Her thumbs dug into his scalp. He pushed his head back against it. Bliss. “Barbara made you sad. Because you miss your sister?”

Danny tensed. 

‘I should have figured that Batman would track me down.’

Maybe he had known, if he was honest with himself. It didn't hit him like a shock.

“Tim thinks your name is Fenton,” she added, brutally sensible as always. And yup, that was it. No point in denying it. “Declared dead. In danger?”

He sucked in air through his teeth. He wasn't going to lie to her. 

“Worried,” she repeated. 

He thought about it. He really did. Danny bit his lip. 

She was liminal. That probably meant she'd come really close to death, in at least one sense of the word. Would that mean she was desensitized to it, or extra paranoid?

…It was hard to imagine Cass over or under reacting to a possible danger. She was just so steady. But would she see him as a possible danger if she knew what he was, what he really was? 

He could feel it out before he took a plunge with the whole truth.

Maybe it was wrong. Maybe it was invasive. She didn't seem to realize that she was liminal. That meant she definitely didn't realize how much she was communicating to him under her words and gestures. 

But Danny deliberately tuned into her quiet aural communication and tested the waters. “Tim is right, I'm Danny Fenton,” he said. He knew he was too tense. She would definitely feel it. But what could he do about that? He was nervous. “I… Maybe I did die.”

Her heart dropped to her stomach. He could feel the crush of grief on her heart. 

But it didn’t wash away the thudding repetition of love-protect-my darling. There was no suspicion, no guilt, no fear. It was just pain for his sake, with no calculation about how to solve a sudden problem. 

God. He wanted so badly for that to have been how his parents reacted. His eyes started to sting.

Danny sniffled. He thought it was safe to tell her. “I died,” he corrected, and he knew he was right when Cass made a little wounded sound and leaned her body into him, aiming to comfort. “Not then, but a couple years ago. I’m different now, and it’s uh… It’s dangerous to be this way.”

“Affects?” Cass asked quietly. She started to pet his hair again. “Mood? Health?”

“...Huh,” he said, because that was a sensible question he hadn’t expected. If he really thought about his mood and emotions before and after the accident: “Yeah, uh, there’s sometimes a mood thing. I might be a little more aggressive than I was before? And I can get kind of intense sometimes.”

He had thought that was basically just a reaction to having a whole bunch of new threats in his life. But would pre-electrocution Danny have been able to actually stand and fight Skulker? He had genuinely been afraid of the jocks. Maybe… Maybe he was different. Sure, Sam and Jazz were up for shooting ghosts with Fenton tech. Would he have been if he was just human? 

…He didn’t really think so.

Oof. Well, that wasn’t exactly great for his sense of self.

Cass shook him lightly. “Health?” she repeated.

Danny forced down that revelation to deal with later. He didn’t like acknowledging that he was kind of a chicken by nature, but historically, there wasn’t much evidence of bravery pre-mortem. “Uh, my heart rate is really slow, body temp is low, so I can’t really afford to go to a doctor for a checkup,” he said. “Uh, sometimes I’ve got none at all and my hair turns white.” He paused there. That was- that was enough, yeah? He was going to be honest with her because she deserved honesty from him. But that didn’t mean he had to explain the whole great beyond and his inhuman status.

“Sounds like Jason,” Cass said, after a long silence.

Danny short-circuited. “Wait, what?” He craned to look at her. “Who?”

Cass darted forward to kiss his forehead. “Little brother,” she said cheerfully. “Want to meet him?”

Uh, yeah. Danny nodded vigorously, wondering what the hell she was on about. “Do you mean he died?” 

“Died,” Cass agreed, getting out her phone and tapping away at it rapidly.

“Not like, heart stopped for a minute on the operating table and he was revived, or what?” Danny pressed.

“Dead in the ground, came back later,” Cass said. “Dead for months. Now, very crabby.”

Danny balked. “What?”

“White hair too,” she said. Then her face did something funny. “I think he dyed it recently,” she said. 

Danny huffed a laugh. “If it’s the same thing as mine, you can’t dye it.” He saw her look over his head for white streaks. He didn’t correct her line of thought.

He hadn’t thought that anything could top the anticipation of meeting Batman. But Danny had to admit the rest of the day was a wash. Apparently Jason couldn’t make it until the evening, about an hour before patrol.

Danny nearly paced a line into the carpet. He had enough energy to do that now, even without ecto. He was getting soooo much food here. A guy couldn’t even stress out for an hour without someone coming by to make sure he had fruit and yogurt or a hot drink.

He didn’t need someone to come and tell him that the much anticipated Jason had shown up. Danny knew it when he went to take a sip of cruelty-free chocolate milk (hand delivered by the most frightening child in the world) and choked on vapor.

Damian gave him a glare and snatched the drink away. “Are you incapable of drinking beverages?” he demanded. His face looked so goddamn cross but he was just worried.

Danny managed a smile. “No, went down the wrong pipe, sorry.”

Damian didn’t seem to even see the fog, so- so that meant that either he was really unobservant or he wasn’t liminal enough to see it the way people did in Amity. That was a small blessing. Danny appreciated it and he took back his drink to have something to hold onto.

That was a whole ass ghost. That was a whole ghost coming onto the property, one that felt big and mad and old. Danny smacked his lips, disconcerted. 

He, uh, didn’t know what to expect from this.

[novvabee]

A Real Good Time

um... i am shocked I even wrote this. so this is like the longest fic i think i've written and it is by far the nastiest, horniest thing i've also ever written... you're welcome i guess?

Summary: poly!marauders x reader x rosekiller, the marauders share reader with Barty and Evan...

CW: MDNI!!!!!! smut!! idk everything man, you tell me. smoking, swearing, voyerism, sharing?, overstimulation, masturbation, (cumplay?), oral, unprotected sex, choking, smacking/spanking, roughness?, reader is a brat. oh this is also not proofread

word count: 4.3k

“What’s ours is yours.” Sirius said boastfully to your friends lounging on the floor of your dorm. You gaped at your boyfriend, not believing what he just said.

Barty threw his head back in laughter, Evan smirking at you. You looked down quickly, slightly embarrassed by the whole situation. 

The whole conversation had been so abrupt and derailed faster than you could stop it.

You had your friends over for a fun evening in your dorm. You all mostly played games and chatted, you could all find fun no matter what, so it didn’t really matter what you got up to as long as you were all there. It was especially easy in the boys’ room, the massive space filled with squashy and fluffy sofas, armchairs and beanbags, half of which they stole from the common room. 

The evening turned quickly into night which turned into the early hours of the morning, and one by one, all of your friends cut out and headed to bed. Lily and Marlene were the last to leave, leaving only Barty and Evan now. They too said they would head to bed, but wanted Remus to roll them a joint they could all share before they left.

The boys enthusiastically agreed and Remus started rolling. 

You don’t know how the topic of sex was introduced, Sirius made a comment to Barty along the lines of “You’re just leaving so you can wind up in Rosier’s bed.” Which then made him reply with “Careful, or I might just take Y/N along with us when we go and show her what a real good time looks like,” as he made grabby hands for you.

You chuckled and swatted his hands away, hoping a blush wasn’t creeping across your cheeks for them to see. The thought of that…

Remus finished rolling the joint and lit it, the room becoming hazy with smoke. “Is that something you'd be interested in, love?” he questioned you. He had a tone of curiosity laced in his voice mixed with something familiar to you, excitement at the thought. Shit, maybe you were blushing, because how did he sense that from across the room? Both Sirius and James perked up at this. 

It’s not like you hadn’t thought about Evan and Barty in that way, in fact, Barty was the first crush you ever had. But ever since you started dating your boys, no one else interested you at all.

Sure the boys could share, they shared you didn’t they? But you never thought that they would be interested in sharing you with others. 

“W-what,” you stuttered. 

Remus passed the joint off to Evan who was looking at you with intrigue, and waltzed over to where you sat cross legged in an oversized armchair. “We can share,” he said, motioning to Sirius and James. “In fact, this is something we’ve talked about before, we just didn’t know if you would be up for it.” Was the weed making him that much bolder? To say all of this in front of Barty and Evan?

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying to find the right words, but ultimately failing. You looked to Sirius and James for reassurance, but they were no help, giving you the same lust filled eyes that you were receiving from Barty and Evan now.

The air in the room suddenly felt too thick to breathe, all you could do was stare up at Remus.

His gaze softened on you for a moment. “Baby, if you say yes, we would love to watch our pretty girl,” he explained softly to you. “But if you say no we’ll just tell them to fuck off and have you ourselves, does that sound alright?”

You smiled slightly, the tension easing a bit. Then you nodded up at him, “It is something that interests me.”

He smiled down at you, placing his palm on your cheek which you happily nuzzled into.

“Wait, so you’re saying you want to watch us fuck your girl?” Evan asked, amusement written all over his face.

“That’s what we’re saying,” James affirmed.

“What’s ours is yours.” Sirius said, causing Barty to laugh and Evan to eye you up and down. “For tonight.” 

Evan made his way to where you were still perched in the armchair, taking your face in his hand. The action was so like what Remus had just done, but it couldn’t feel any more different. Remus’s hand was soft and gentle, while Evan’s was rougher, gripping your jaw tighter and squishing your cheek into a pout, forcing you to look up at him.

“You sure about this doll?” He asked quietly. You did your best to nod for him but this made him tsk. “None of that, words.” he demanded.

“Yes, I’m sure.” you replied, his grip making it a bit tough to respond but you managed.

“Good,” he hummed.

Barty then made his way over as well. Both the tall men eyeing you down, you felt smaller than ever under their gazes.

Maybe it was because he wanted to hurry this along, or maybe he was taking pity on you, but Barty held out his hand for you to take. You hesitated but placed your hand in his as he pulled you to your feet, his grasp surprisingly gentle. He pulled you up and in between his and Evan’s bodies, both encroaching on your space.

Barty tilted your head up to look him in the eye. He looked so calm right now, a direct contrast to his usual demeanor. Maybe he could sense the nerves radiating off of you, so he was making it easier, making you more comfortable. He leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose, the act so unsensual to the moment, but felt like just what you needed. You cracked a smile up at him.

“There she is,” he hummed in response, taking your face in both hands. He leaned in again, this time kissing your jaw, then down to your neck. You relaxed, your head falling back and right onto the shoulder of Evan who had copied Barty’s movements, beginning to kiss the other side of your neck.

You peeked over to your boyfriends, all lounging on the sofas across from you, James falling into the armchair you had just vacated. You were looking to see any sign of hesitation, any sign that they weren’t comfortable with this, but the looks on their faces told you there was nothing to worry about right now. James had a look of awe in his eyes while Remus was relaxing into the sofa and getting comfortable, waiting for the show to begin. You couldn’t quite place the look that Sirius had, somewhere between amusement and thrill of a challenge in front of him.

This was their way of saying ‘go ahead, relax, have fun.’ So fun you would have.

You felt Evan’s hands begin to wander from behind you, feeling his way slowly from your hips to your waist.

A single thought continued to bounce around your skull as the two boys sucked harshly at your jaw and neck, a thought that you couldn’t shake. You smiled to yourself, if it was a show your boyfriends want, then it was a show they would get. 

You moaned out and entangled your fingers into Evan’s wavy locks. You gripped his hair and this seemed to encourage him as he chuckled against your skin, the heat warming the entire side of your face, then nipping at the spot.

You whimpered and moved your hips back, just enough to brush against Evan. He gripped your hips even tighter and pulled you impossibly close to him.

“I love the noises she makes,” Barty mused, now smirking down at you. He took the bottom of your shirt and lifted it slowly, you not stopping him at all. He lifted it over your head and pulled it off of you finally, throwing it over to your boyfriends. Evan took this time to unclasp your bra, letting it pop open before sliding it down your arms and letting it fall to the floor. You took a deep, steadying breath as Barty smiled softly down at you. You took the initiative and slid your shorts down your legs, stepping out of them and leaving you only in your panties in front of them.

He took your wrist in his hand before falling backwards onto the couch across from your boyfriends, pulling you down with him.

You squealed as you landed on top of him, giggling the whole way down.

Barty adjusted himself on the couch as you made your way down his legs, making sure to keep your eyes on him the entire time. He looked heavenly and you didn’t want to miss a moment of his expressions as you unbuttoned and pulled the zipper down on his jeans.

You struggled a bit on purpose and looked up at him with a faux pathetic expression to get him to help you. He leaned forward to place yet another kiss on the tip of your nose before sliding his jeans down for you. You pouted up at him and tugged at the waistband, wanting to get him to do all the work for you.

“Awe,” He cooed, “not used to putting in some hard work yourself?”

You frowned and slipped a finger in his waistband, pulling back and letting it snap against his abdomen. He snatched your wrist in his hand, amused but clearly growing frustrated by your actions.

“I'll help this once,” he said, the most stern you had heard him this entire time, “But be a good girl, yeah?”

He slid his boxers off, his dick already red and leaking. He was big, probably the same size as Sirius. You looked up at him and smiled.

Before moving any further, you looked to your boyfriends to check that everything was still alright. Both Sirius and James already had their hands wrapped around their cocks, lazily tugging and watching you. You smiled again, turning your attention to the cock in front of you.

You started by licking Barty from base to tip, just like how Siri showed you all that time ago. You gave him a few licks which earned you a small groan and you giggled at the sound, peaking a look up at him, his head thrown back and shirt riding up his toned stomach.

You took his tip fully in your mouth, giving it a little suck, intent on taking your time and working him up, but Barty being Barty had it down your throat with one quick thrust. It made sense, you hadn’t seen Barty sit still for all of three minutes in a normal situation. You gagged a little at the intrusion, but quickly recovered, fitting as much of him in your mouth as you could, then using your hand for the rest.

“Good girl,” He praised, head still thrown over the edge of the couch.

You sucked again and again, hollowing your cheeks and taking him  as deep as you could, setting your own pace.

 You felt Evan’s fingers trace the outline of your core over your panties, the fabric no doubt soaked through. He used his thumb to rub your clit in small circles. 

You moaned at the feeling, the vibrations making Barty moan as well, the sound utterly sinful. Barty pulled your hair off of your face and into a makeshift ponytail, disregarding your set pace and fucking your throat at his own instead.

Evan picked up on this and rubbed your clit in rhythm to Barty’s thrusts. You choked out another moan, eyes watering as you tried to catch little breaths in between Barty’s ruthless pace.

Evan’s hands gripped your hips again, placing himself behind you. He was getting impatient, you could tell by his movements. He didn’t even try to pull off your panties for you, he just pulled them to the side and continued his ministrations to your clit. 

Barty’s breathing became uneven and shallow, you looked up at him through your lashes and could see how good you were making him feel. His brows were pulled tight together and his mouth was open slightly, letting out whines and breathless moans. It was nothing compared to the noises that James makes, but for now it would do.

Before you could even think, you felt the tip of Evan’s dick tracing up and down your dripping core. The action made you gasp around Barty’s dick. You wiggled your hips the best you could, trying to feel more of Evan and test the waters.

You heard Evan chuckle behind you, felt his hand leave your ass and swat down. This made you jump, Barty’s dick managing to hit the back of your throat without a warning. You whined as Barty moaned.

You pulled off of him for a moment, intent on complaining to Evan that he made you choke, but before you could turn your way around and get him in your line of sight, he slammed himself into you.

This made you jerk forward, your cheek pressed to Barty’s abdomen. “Ugh, why’d you stop, pretty?” he asked you.

You weren’t able to answer him due to the way Evan was pounding into you. You were trying to catch your breath in order to moan, but the pace that Evan had set made you almost forget how. You dug your nails into Barty’s thighs under you, hoping it would ground you somewhat. Barty hissed in pain above you, but made no move to stop you.

Evan was sliding in and out of you so easily, so quickly, you had no time to even think about anything except how good you felt.

You caught a glimpse of your boyfriends across from you, Sirius’s mouth now around Remus who was looking you dead in the eye and smoke falling from his parted lips. On any normal occasion, this sight would be enough to push you over the edge, but now, it somehow drew you back into reality. 

You moaned, the sound filling the space and mixing with Evan’s groans and James’s breathless sounds from the other side of the room. Every noise borderline pornographic. 

Barty gently brushed a lock of hair from your face. “Feel good, pretty girl?” he asked, a smug grin cut across his face.

“Y-yes,” you moaned out, remembering to play it up a bit for your voyeur boyfriends. 

“Who does this pussy belong to?” Evan chuckled, keeping up his pace. You were slightly caught off guard with that question, trying to focus on an answer. Impatient, he reached down to pull your hair,  giving it a tug until you were eye to eye with Barty who smirked and tilted his head to the side, waiting for your answer.

“R-remmy-y and Siri.. a-and Ja-amsie.” you replied. Although Evan was fucking you, you would never betray your boys. You were wholly theirs, and they were yours.

“Is that so? Then how come we’re the ones getting to use it now? Huh?” he teased.

“Cause they’re just s-so generous. Helpin’ out t-the less fortunate ‘n a-all” you replied, still finding a way to brat off. This probably made Sirius prouder than ever. At least just because it wasn’t him you were mouthing off to.

“She really does have a mouth on her doesn’t she?” He asked Barty and without warning flipped you onto your stomach, continuing his brutal pace. You had to hand it to them, they were trying their hardest to break you, but you couldn’t be broken. Not when you won the lottery not once but three times over in Sirius, James, and Remus.

“Fuck!” You cried out and arched your back, this new position had Evan hitting your sweet spot over and over in the most perfect way. Your eyes screwed shut as you felt yourself barreling towards the edge.

Evan pulled out and stood from where he was kneeling behind you. “Switch with me.” He ordered Barty.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Barty answered him, excitement dripping off his words.

You panted hard, using this time to try and fill your lungs. Now that it was Barty’s turn to fuck you, you knew you were going to be in for a ride. If that is the level of stamina that Evan had, you didn’t think you were prepared for Barty.

Barty hovered over you, smiling down with amusement and lust. “You gonna be a good girl for me?” he asked with fake intrigue. You don’t know why but this annoyed you. Your face must have shown signs of this annoyance because he leaned down and whispered, “At least be better for me than you were for Evan, yeah? No one likes a brat.”

You rolled your eyes in response.

You felt a sharp sting at your thigh from where Barty smacked you. This one hurt more than the warning swat that Evan gave you, his red hand print already imprinted on your skin. The shock wore off after a moment and what Sirius would like to call ‘brattiness’ set in.

How dare they, they aren’t your boyfriends. They don’t get to dictate your mood or attitude, especially when they’ve been so self serving up until now, no even allowing you to cum yet. Not even making you cum.

You opened your mouth to make your thoughts known, but Barty seemingly had run out of patience with you. He gripped your throat and pushed you back onto the sofa, squeezing this fingers on either side of your neck and sending a fuzzy feeling throughout your entire body. You whimpered and gasped, struggling to breathe with your head hung over the end of the cushions. Evan made great use of this, cock shoving past your parted lips and down your throat with no warning, the same way Barty did.

You would have panicked, not taking a deep enough breath before Evan’s entire length was cutting off your airway, if it weren’t for Remus and Sirius doing basically the same thing when punishing you sometimes. 

Evan set his own pace, thrusting deep into your throat each time. Barty took this opportunity to push into you as well, taking you inch by inch. You heard both Evan and Barty groan out at the feeling of you around them.

Evan pulled out slightly for you to breathe, which you quickly took, thankfully swirling your tongue around his tip and making his hips buck back into your mouth.

Barty was moving agonizingly slow, making sure to fully fill you before pulling almost completely out and starting again. You jerked your hips up, signaling for him to move, to do something. He chuckled.

“Seems like you’ve got a brat on your hands,” He said over to your boyfriends. This was the first time they were verbally acknowledged since starting.

Sirius chuckled, “Trust me, we know.”

Barty halted all actions which made you jerk yet again, becoming frustrated with the lack of movement.

“Is that, why you wanted us to fuck her?” Evan asked, “Wanted someone to finally tame her?”

You rolled your eyes at this, slightly grazing Evan’s cock with your teeth. Not hard, or a lot, just enough to get your message across. He replied with a particularly rough thrust down your throat again, making you choke and gag.

“Oh please,” James chimed in, “She would break you before you even got close to taming her.”

“It's true,” Remus laughed at the thought of Evan and Barty actually trying to ‘tame’ you, something that not even he could really do.

Barty hummed with delight. “Well, what does princess have to say about that?” He asked.

Evan gave you another thrust before pulling out and letting you speak. You coughed as you caught your breath, your throat becoming sore with all the abuse. 

You looked him in the eye, remembering the fact that you still hadn’t cum yet. You thought this was supposed to be a fun experience. You remembered what he had said, bragged to your boyfriends earlier.

“I thought you were supposed to show me what a real good time looks like.” you spat.

Barty blinked at you before smirking.

He didn’t bother answering you, just lifted your hips up off the couch and snapped his hips into yours. You let out a high pitched scream, not expecting this at all.

Finally, you knew how to get what you want, and in most cases, that just means a snide comment or bratty behavior. Works just as well on Evan and Bart as it did on your boyfriends, who knew.

You heard Sirius snicker, the brattiness amusing him.

You had every right to be worried before, Evan’s pace was brutal, Barty’s was ruthless, cruel. He was hitting so deep inside of you that your moans raised in pitch with each thrust.

Evan followed in Barty’s lead, lazily reaching down to where you and Barty connected and rubbed small circles over your clit again. The feeling overwhelming you, back arching even in Barty’s hold on you. 

You thought you would return the favor, taking Evan in your hand and pumping his cock in time with Barty fucking you. His eyes fluttered shut and a line appeared between his brows, muttering a small “Fuck,” under his breath. You didn’t know his body well at all, but you would say he was probably close.

Between Evan’s skilled fingers and Barty hitting your cervix over and over, the painful pleasure was what you were seeking, finally tipping you toward the edge of climax.

Barty’s fingers were sure to be bruised into your hips as he kept his grip and fucked you as if you weighed nothing, just a doll for his pleasure.

Evan swatted you again, this time making contact with your sensitive bud. You threw your head back and cried out as you felt your orgasm wash over you. Barty kept his pace and so did Evan, both intent on letting you ride it out with their help.

But that wasn’t the case at all, even as you came down off of the high of your orgasm, their pace didn't falter. You whined and tried to squirm away from them, but Barty gripped you harder, pulling you back. Evan didn’t halt either, in fact his fingers were working faster than before.

“W-wait, wait please,” you stuttered, trying your best to get them to let up for a moment. You were trying hard to wiggle your way out of their reach, but it was no use, all you could do was take what they were giving you.

The moans that were coming from you were the same as the ones coming from your boyfriends, you knew they were ready to cum from the way they all sounded. You wanted it to be them fucking you stupid right now, but watching them watch you was adding so much to your arousal, these images of them would be burned into your brain for the rest of time and you hoped you were providing the same for them.

“F-fuck, fuck,” you heard James whine, catching the sight of him just in time to see him come undone, white ropes of cum landing in his abs and thighs. 

You moaned at the sight, your Jamesie looking so dirty and breathless, all because of you. And all you really had to do was look pretty.

This pushed you over the edge again, vision going hazy and feeling hot all over, shaking and trying to push Evan’s hand away from you. To your surprise he actually obliged, removing his soaked hand and moving it to grab your throat and squeeze. His other hand went down to his own throbbing cock, jerking himself off above your face.

You made a breathless sound, Barty, finally becoming sloppy in his thrusts, groaned out “Fuck, I’m close.”. Your whole body felt limp and tired, but his final thrusts into you were deep enough to make you see stars.

You cried at the overuse of your cunt, Barty pulling out in time to cum all over your stomach, Evan doing the same, releasing on your chest. Your body a sticky hot mess from Barty and Evan. You panted hard, your body tired from the whole night.

Sirius and Remus made their way into your view, both fisting their own cocks with need, both breathless and on the edge.

Sirius came first, his beautiful moans prefacing his cum landing over both Evan and Barty’s, mixing with the rest of the fluid across your torso. 

This left Remus. You looked up at him, scrambling to your knees and opening your mouth for him. He let out a small chuckle before throwing his head back and releasing a throaty moan.

You licked the underside of his dick as he came in your mouth, the liquid quickly filling up your mouth and dribbling out the sides, down your neck and chest.

“Fuck,” you heard multiple boys say at once.

You swallowed what made it into your mouth and giggled, taking in everyone’s satisfied states. 

Evan and Barty dressed and joked with your boyfriends about how it’s unfair they kept you to themselves all this time. They asked if you were alright about a thousand times, Sirius telling them they would take care of you from here. You all bid your goodnights and Barty and Evan finally left for bed.

You were happy to be all alone with your boyfriends now, James having cleaned you up and gave you one of his shirts to wear. You cuddled into bed with them, feeling more grateful for them than ever. Sure the sex with Barty and Evan was fun, but no one knew you like your boys did, no one could make you feel like they did. No one could measure up to the pleasure you felt, nor the safety afterward.

This late night became the early morning that led you to see the sunrise as you dozed off in your boyfriends arms.

i-... idk what to even say here. here ya go.

[wroetominter]

Theatre - George Clarke

Pairing: George X FemReader

Warnings: smut - mdni

A/N - I fully intended this to be cute and fluffy. I got carried away. I hope you enjoy!

———

Scrolling through my social medias, I was trying to find anything to occupy my afternoon.

Nearly every single friend I had reached out to trying to make plans seemed to already have something going on today.

I sat up in bed, deciding at a minimum I may as well just take a walk to get some energy out of my system. I dressed in some comfortable athletic joggers and a crewneck, putting my headphones in and heading out to the cool streets of London.

I walked for close to 20 minutes, eventually coming across a familiar building. A few of my good friends lived here, Chris, George, and Arthur. My mind began to wander and I was curious if any of them were free.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and text the three of them - "I'm outside of your building, anyone fancy a walk?".

I sat on a nearby bench, waiting for a response. A few moments later I heard a familiar voice approaching me. "Hello!" George called exiting the building. "Just me home, but I'm bored out of my mind and your offer seemed tempting." I stood up and gave him a small hug as a greeting.

"I appreciate you taking me up on the offer. I don't know if it's the weather or the fact that I'm so used to filming daily but I cannot stay in my flat a second longer." George agreed and we began our walk.

We talked about video ideas, videos we had been apart of, and everything in between.

"Hey, what if we go see a film?" George asked as we approached a theatre.

"Is anything good playing right now?" I asked. George stopped and grabbed his phone, searching this theatres current playing. I came closer, peering over his phone to see what our options were.

"Ooh I have been wanting to see this one." I pointed to one of the options.

"Settled. Let's go."

We bought our tickets, staring for an ungodly amount of time at the snack menu before deciding on popcorn, squashies, m&m's, and sodas.

Finding our theatre, we stopped at the sign outside the door that showed what seats were taken and the show time. The previews had already started and thus far the only seats taken were ours.

"I guess we're the only ones seeing a film at 5pm on a Wednesday" I joked.

"Clearly we're the only ones with taste." George added.

Sitting down, we watched through the previews, making fun of some of the weird movie concepts that people have come up with.

The lights dimmed, and the movie started. No one had joined us in the theatre.

"Maybe it will be more fun if we commentate through some of the movie." George suggested. I sat up straighter, agreeing and sitting with my legs criss crossed.

The movie was pretty entertaining on its own, but I found mine and George's commentary much more entertaining.

"I think this guy would be the kind of guy in the gym that solely goes to flex." I said, pointing to one of the characters.

"He does give major frat boy energy."

"And this girl is such a pick me I cannot stand her." I said.

"She's literally the main character isn't it supposed to be about her?" George added, laughing at my comment.

"I mean yes, but must she be so insufferable?" I sipped my drink, shifting in my seat beginning to get uncomfortable. George noticed and lifted the arm rest between us to give me more room to settle in.

Our talking had subsided as we became more engrossed in the plot of the movie. I stretched out, scooting closer to George for comfort.

"Do you care if I put my legs across yours?" I asked George, he shook his head and offered me a spot next to him.

I laid my legs across his, and his arm moved around my waist to hold me in place. It was comfortable. I could smell his cologne from this distance and realized how good it smelled.

My thoughts drifted, and I began to wonder what it would be like to be even closer to George. It wasn't exactly a secret that he was a very handsome man. We had always had a really good friendship, and I was suddenly overthinking situations we had previously that were on the flirtier side.

I turned my head to face George, his head resting on the chair and his eyes glued to the screen. A small smile spread across my face at the sight. He had such nice eyes.

"You good?" He asked softly, meeting my gaze.

"Yeah, just jealous of your pretty eyes." He then rolled them a little, squeezing me closer to him.

"Your eyes are very pretty, nothing to be jealous of love." I lightly tapped his leg.

"You're so self deprecating sometimes George. Accept my compliment." I said. He smiled at me.

"Thank you, Y/n." I smugly smiled back.

"You're welcome George."

After the movie had finished we stood up, stretching our tired limbs after sitting in the theatre for so long.

We stepped outside, and I briefly furrowed my eyebrows at the sky being dark.

"Are you confused by the concept of time?" George asked. I lightly pushed him teasingly.

"I just didn't realize how long we had been there. No need to be mean George."

"Not being mean, just teasing you." He put his arm around my shoulders as we began to walk back towards George's building.

"I suppose this is where I leave you." I said. This time it was George's turn to furrow his eyebrows.

"You don't think I'm letting you walk home alone do you?" He tilted his head to the side. I felt my cheeks heating up at the insinuation of him walking me home. It was a friendly gesture, but my mind was still on my previous thoughts from earlier and I was reading into the situation.

"You're sweet, you really don't have to. It's so far out of your way."

"I insist, cmon let's get you home."

We walked in a comfortable silence, the cars going past us being the only noise I could hear.

As we approached my building, I grabbed my keys from my pocket.

"Did you want to come in for a bit?" I offered. "I have drinks and snacks. Or I could make us dinner?" I offered.

"You don't have to make us dinner, I wouldn't say no to a beer though." George said.

I copied his mannerisms from earlier. "I insist on making us dinner." He smirked and followed me inside.

George sat at my kitchen island and I passed him a beer, he opened it and took a sip, sighing in content.

I peered through the fridge, settling on a stir fry for dinner. I chopped vegetables up and began frying them, the smell consuming my flat.

I finished our meal, getting a plate ready and turning to face George, finding him already standing behind me.

“Oh! This was for you.” I said passing him the plate. He smiled at the gesture, taking the plate from me.

“Thank you.”

I grabbed my plate, coming to sit next to him at the table.

We talked about the movie, and upcoming vacation plans. We were going on a big group skiing trip in a few weeks and that had consumed much of the conversation.

After we had finished our meals, George stood and grabbed my plate, taking it to the kitchen. I followed him and watched as he began to rinse the plates to put them in the dishwasher.

I leaned against the wall, enjoying the evening we had. I couldn’t help but feel like this should be normal for us. The nights together making dinner, catching a movie, talking, everything.

“Take a picture darling” George said without even looking at me. He must have felt me staring. I pulled my phone from my pocket and snapping a few photos. George caught me and rolled his eyes. He walked over to me, grabbing my phone to look at the photos.

“I do look good in these don’t I?” He said cockily swiping through the images.

“You really do.” I admitted.

Georges demeanor changed and he looked up to meet my gaze. We stood there for a moment, just staring at each other.

My confidence built as I noticed George’s eyes flit from my eyes to my lips and back. I reached my hand up to his jaw, standing to my tip toes and bringing my lips to his.

As if he knew what was happening, his hands found my waist as we stood in the dim light of the kitchen, totally engrossed in each other.

Pulling away, I leaned my head into his chest, catching my breath.

“Did I take your breath away?” George laughed.

I looked up to him, joining his laughter.

“Yes, you kinda did.” He leaned down and kissed me again, holding me close. I tangled my hands into his hair, deepening the kiss.

George’s hands roamed down to the back of my legs, picking me up and setting me on the counter.

“I have a confession.” He said, hands resting on my lower back as his eyes met mine.

“Whats that?” I asked, holding onto his shoulders.

“I realized I liked you when we went to Spain.” He admitted. My jaw dropped.

“George, that was almost a year ago!” I exclaimed. He nodded, laughing.

“I know, but you know how I am with admitting my feelings.” He said. I began to think back to that trip. The whole group of us in a villa.

“Wait a minute, wasn’t that the trip Chris found you wanking in the shower after we all went swimming?” I asked, bringing up the awkward moment that became the entire talk of the trip.

His cheeks heated up, and he turned away trying to hide it. “Yes…” he trailed off “It was that black bikini, if you were curious.”

I pulled him closer, wrapping my legs around his waist.

“How about you try the real thing?” I proposed. His eyes met mine once again, this time filled with lust.

“Don’t mind if I do.” I let out a giggle as he grabbed my thighs and began walking to my bedroom.

He tossed me onto my plush bed, taking his shirt off immediately. I sat up on my elbows, taking in the sight of his toned body. I could already see the impression of his erection in his sweatpants, proud of the effect I already had on him from words alone.

He pulled his sweatpants down, crawling onto the bed on top of me, kissing me once again, his hands sliding my shirt up and breaking the kiss to remove it from my body. His eyes met my bra, a small bralette made purely of lace, leaving nothing to the imagination.

He kissed down my neck, through the valley of my breasts and down to the waistband of my joggers. He looked to me for confirmation and I lifted myself so he could remove them. He slid my pants and underwear down simultaneously, revealing myself to him.

He slid my legs apart, settling himself between them and beginning to work his tongue through my folds, eliciting a soft moan from my lips. He looked up at the sound, clearly proud of himself.

He continued to lick and suck, making my legs squirm from the pleasure he was creating.

“George, please. I need you.” I said breathlessly.

He nodded, standing and removing his boxers. I couldn’t help but stare at how unbelievably good he looked in the moonlight streaming through the window. His body ready for our nights adventure.

He lined himself up with me, lacing his fingers with mine and sliding in. I arched my back to meet his body, the two of us releasing a moan at the new contact.

He slowly thrust in and out, almost as if he was trying to savor the feeling of us together.

This was the first time I had felt actual connection with sex, not just pleasure. There was something more with George that I couldn’t explain.

He kissed me softly as he continued his thrusts.

“I want to be a gentleman but it’s so difficult.” George said kissing me softly.

“George. You have my permission to have your way with me.” I said to him. He nodded, instantly pulling out and flipping me over, hands gripping my waist tightly as he then pushed me into the bed, effectively putting me into the speed bump position, starting his thrusts once again, this time the strokes were different and I couldn’t help but moan his name as he hit every amazing spot I didn’t even know I needed hit.

Within minutes I felt myself tensing, my release imminent. George must have been close as well, as his thrusts had become more irregular.

I let out a string of profanities, my release washing over me as the heat radiated through my body.

George pulled out, pumping himself with his hand to finish. I laid on my back, facing him to see his gorgeous face contorting as the pleasure took over and he finished onto my stomach. I sighed in content, and George’s breathing began to even out. He walked to my en-suite, grabbing a towel to clean us up.

After we cleaned up, we both redressed partially and laid in bed together. I wrapped myself over George, snuggling into him.

“I wish you would have told me sooner.” I said. He laughed, my head moving from the movement of his chest.

“Me too, love. Me too.”

[hold-on-a-little-longer-whump]

Don't mind me, just thinking about a character recovering from an illness or injury. The danger has passed, but they're still weak and exhaustion follows them like a heavy cloud. Comfort food is brought regularly. Soft clothes. Blankets. Fuzzy socks.

Particularly, the image of them sleeping on a squashy looking couch. Maybe they kicked off the blankets. Golden sunlight bathes them in warmth, and it's heavenly. Their hair is fluffed and messy.

And their companion stops themselves in the threshold of the door, not wanting to disturb this rare moment of bliss. They're carrying a tray of warm food, and the steam catches in the sun's rays just right.

They smile. Lunch can wait.

[ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey]

Can you please write a fic for the prompt “late night chats”?

The sound of Ron’s footsteps treading up the stairs to the dormitory slowly fades, and they’re finally alone in the Common Room. 

Ginny makes a show of checking to make sure the coast is clear, and then she burrows happily into Harry’s side, snuggling deeper into the squashy sofa by the fire. His arm snakes around her waist to pull her in closer. They should probably go to bed, too, but it seems wasteful not to eke out every moment she can, to wring this weekend completely dry of moments with him. 

“Thought he’d never leave,” Ginny says with a sly grin. “I was ready to sit on your lap just so he’d get the hint.”

“Were you?” Harry says with interest. Then, he turns his head toward the stairs, and calls, “Ron?” as though to summon him back. 

Ginny snorts and pokes him in the side, and he turns that devastating smirk back at her - flashing green eyes, crooked lips, the hint of a dimple - the one that’s had her slowly losing her mind for months. 

She still can’t quite believe she’s allowed to kiss the smirk off his lips, now. She does, just to prove it’s real. 

Every moment alone they’ve stolen has taken on this oxymoronic tone: bodily tangible, like she can reach out and grasp their growing tangle of feelings as easily as a Quaffle, but wholly surreal, like they’re some elaborate daydream snatched from her subconscious. Both, and neither. 

She pulls back and smiles at him, and he does too, something wry creeping into their expressions, something that seems to say, we’re nauseating but I can’t help it. 

He’s made her so quickly greedy for more, the git. It’s been two days of kissing and banter and touches, overwhelming and not enough. 

“Tell me something,” she says, suddenly, “that you haven’t told anyone before.”

His eyebrows raise slightly in surprise, and Ginny’s plunged immediately into the vulnerability of her question, the implication of it. I want to be closer, she’s asking, do you? But, she’s not in Gryffindor for nothing, and so she holds his gaze and withstands his onslaught of silence. 

“Hm,” he says, looking thoughtful. “About what?”

“Anything,” she shrugs. “Whatever.”

Harry furrows his brow, stares ahead into the middle distance, and Ginny holds her breath, waiting to find out whether he’ll hand her a key or if she’ll have to keep knocking, knowing already she’s succumbed to knocking at his door until her knuckles bruise. 

“I dunno if my dad was a good person,” Harry says without preamble. 

Ginny doesn’t know what she’d expected him to tell her, but it hadn’t been that. “What makes you say that?”

He stares at his knees and explains about the Occlumency lessons with Snape. The memory he was never supposed to see. His father, every bit the bully Snape had always claimed. 

“--that’s why I wanted to talk to Sirius, last year,” Harry admits. “When you helped distract Umbridge. Stupid, I know–”

“It’s not stupid,” Ginny says fiercely. She feels the weight of it, what he’s told her. Wondering about someone who isn’t around to ask. Grieving someone and the idea of them at once. “What did Sirius say?”

“He said he grew out of it,” Harry says, though his tone says loud and clear that this explanation hadn’t been satisfactory to him. “But, I dunno. Means he was still a git before, doesn't it?”

“Maybe,” Ginny agrees. “Or maybe that was his worst moment.”

“Pretty shit moment.”

“Yeah,” Ginny admits, leaning her head on her hand, propped up on the back of the sofa so that she’s turned to face him. “Pretty shit. But I’d hate it if my future children only got to see me… oh, I dunno. Hex Zacharias Smith. Or slip that itching powder into Romilda Vane’s pumpkin juice.”

Harry shoots her a look. “When did you do that?”

“She tried to give you a love potion and got my brother poisoned, Harry.”

Harry snorts. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“Well, that’s what I mean. We’ve all had shit moments that’d look terrible without proper context. My future children wouldn’t have any idea what Romilda had done to get on my bad side, would they?”

“I suppose,” Harry says, though he still sounds unconvinced. “But I don’t reckon there’s any context that’d make him look much better. I’m not saying Snape was a saint, I’m sure he gave as good as he got. But it… my dad was humiliating him. On purpose.”

“Mm,” Ginny hums slowly, mulling it over. “Do you reckon Sirius was right? That he did grow out of it?”

Harry swipes a hand through his messy hair. “He must’ve. My mum married him. Sirius and Lupin said he was better. But, I dunno. Maybe he did. I’ll never know, anyway.”

Ginny reckons that’s the real problem - the never knowing. Forgiveness is a difficult thing to offer when the person isn’t around to ask for or receive it. 

“I wish,” she says wistfully, “you’d got to see more. People can’t be all bad, I don’t think. I’m sure Sirius and Lupin have hundreds of memories that you would’ve liked him in. Makes it easier not to like him in that one.”

Harry’s lips part, and then he nods. “Yeah. Me too.”

She’s still thinking about it when Harry shocks her. “What about you, then?”

“Hmm?” she asks, confused. 

Harry jerks his head at her and nudges her knee with his own. “Your turn. Something you’ve never said to anyone.”

Ginny meets his eye, the warmth billowing through her chest like a cloud of candyfloss. He wants to know her, too. The thought - I like you more than I’ve ever liked anyone - threatens to spill from her lips, but she holds her tongue, wanting to offer him something of equal weight. 

“I use the bathroom on the second floor whenever I can,” she says, knowing he’ll understand which one she means. “Just to prove I’m not bothered by it. Only, it does bother me. Maybe that’s why I keep using it.”

He looks stricken. “Do you still think about it a lot? The Chamber?”

Ginny shrugs, perhaps a bit more nonchalant than she actually feels. “A bit. Still get nightmares sometimes, but not as often as I used to.”

“Yeah,” he says, and she’s struck for a moment by the fact that they might be haunted by the same ghost. “Me, too.”

She shoots him a commiserating look, and continues. “But it’s not about… about Riddle, really. I mean, it is. But it’s more about… me.”

“What do you mean?” His stare is so piercing, like he’s trying to see straight through to her soul. She imagines he can. 

“I dunno. It was awful, obviously, what happened. But when I think back on it, what actually bothers me…” she chews on her words, trying to articulate the vague shame that always clings to these memories, “is that I was so stupid.”

“What?” Harry says sharply. “You were eleven. That diary… it’s… you weren’t stupid.” His words are so firm that it steals her breath. “That was a powerful bit of Dark Magic, you couldn’t have done anything.”

“No, I know that. Logically, I know that. But, I dunno. I wrote so many pathetic things in that diary.” She tries to laugh, but it comes out a bit scratchy. “I was so lonely, after Ron left for school. So desperate to go off to Hogwarts and have mad adventures and play Quidditch and… meet you.” She stares down at her hands, the embarrassment threatening to overwhelm her. “I just hate that he knows all that, that I was this pathetic, desperate little girl–”

“He doesn’t,” Harry says. “The version of him you wrote to is gone. The real one doesn’t know any of it.”

“Oh,” she replies, coming up short. “How do you…? Well, never mind, you haven’t got to answer that, I suppose–”

“It’s not that I don’t want to–”

“No, I know,” Ginny says quickly, unable to bear some platitude, not from him, “Really, you haven’t–”

“Whatever you wrote in that diary died with it,” Harry says firmly. “I promise.”

Ginny nods, and lets the words sink in. Ever since Riddle had come back, she’d wondered whether pathetic little Ginny Weasley was somewhere in the back of his mind. Weak. Stupid. An easy target, close to Harry. The relief that she might just be anyone – no one, even – to this version of Riddle, is palpable. 

“Thanks,” Ginny breathes. “That makes me feel a bit… better.”

“You weren’t pathetic,” Harry says, like the thought is so absurd he’d never considered she might feel that way. “It’s quite impressive you managed to resist it for so long, actually.”

Everything that had happened with that diary has been so tinted with shame, with weakness, that Harry might consider her brave for it… it feels so antithetical to everything she’d ever thought, she nearly laughs. 

“Right,” Ginny says, deflecting away with a joke. “I’m sure all those roosters thought I was very impressive.”

To his credit, Harry doesn’t laugh. “That wasn’t you. It was him.”

Easy to say, harder to feel. “The Department of Mysteries wasn’t you, either.”

Harry stares at her, and she holds his gaze unwaveringly. She can see she’s made her point, can read in the pull of his brow that Harry understands exactly the weight of a guilt so heavy that words can’t lighten it. Just as plainly, though, she can see that he hates that she’s carrying it at all. 

Fair enough, really. She hates that he is, too. 

She breaks eye contact and nestles back into his side. She lifts up his hand with hers, plays absently with his fingers. “Why haven’t you ever told Ron and Hermione about your dad?”

He considers for a long moment, letting her play with his hand and pulling her in closer with the other. “Dunno, really. Just felt… defensive, I suppose. Like whatever they’d said, it would’ve bothered me.”

“I get that.” She winces. “Did I upset you?”

“No,” Harry says quickly. “It’s not like that, with you.”

The words melt in her heart like honey, covering everything in sweet, sticky warmth. She ceases her mindless fiddling with his fingers and looks up at him, knowing her face must be an open book, knowing it must be apparent that he’s got her whole honey-coated heart in his hands. “It’s not like that with you, either.”

He stares back at her, deep into her eyes, and for the first time it occurs to her to check her own palm for his.

He leans down and kisses her deeply, and she pulls herself up and snakes her arms around his neck. This thing has always been irritatingly there, for Ginny - the way she can read exactly what he’s thinking without even trying, the way she trusts him absolutely, the way he makes her heart skitter like she’s in a free fall. 

It’d never honestly occurred to her how powerful it would be to have it reciprocated. To have him understand what she’s saying so completely, to have him offer her something vulnerable just because she asked, to feel his heart hammering against her own. 

It’s been two bloody days, and yet she’s slipped past the point of no return with him already. Perhaps she’d started there. 

She pulls back from the kiss, feeling breathless. Harry looks a bit winded, himself. 

“We should probably go to bed,” he mutters, eyes still locked with hers. 

They should, probably. 

And they will. Eventually.

[magical-reid]

Dancing on the Edge

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Genre: fluff

Content warnings: none?

Word count: 1.1K

Summary: Y/N, a Slytherin with a unique blend of independence and friendships across house lines, finds herself unexpectedly catching Fred Weasley’s attention during a celebratory Gryffindor party. After an eventful and embarrassing night involving too much Butterbeer and Firewhiskey, Fred comforts her while navigating her drunken confusion, ultimately revealing his genuine feelings for her.

She wasn’t like the other Slytherins. A pureblood through and through, she had the poise and privilege her housemates prided themselves on, but she also had an independence of spirit that set her apart. Unlike her peers, she counted Gryffindors Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger among her closest friends.

Of course, that hadn’t stopped Fred and George Weasley from making her the subject of countless pranks during her first five years at Hogwarts. It was Fred in particular who seemed to delight in getting under her skin, though Y/N often found herself biting back laughter instead of indignation. There was something about Fred’s roguish grin and the twinkle in his eye that made her heart skip just a little too quickly for her liking.

Now in her sixth year, Y/N was determined to avoid trouble. However, trouble had a way of finding her—especially when it involved the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

The Gryffindor common room was alight with celebration. After a grueling Quidditch match, Gryffindor had been crowned the school champions, and no one was more jubilant than the Weasley twins. Fred and George stood on a makeshift podium near the fireplace, leading the room in a raucous cheer.

Y/N, who had slipped into the party at Ginny’s insistence, found herself perched awkwardly on the armrest of a squashy chair. She clapped along half-heartedly as the team passed around the Quidditch Cup. She hadn’t planned on staying long—she wasn’t even sure she belonged there—but Ginny had handed her a Butterbeer the moment she walked in, and then another, and another.

“Loosen up, Y/N!” Ginny laughed, tugging her into the throng of dancing students.

The butterbeer was stronger than she expected. Or maybe it was the Firewhiskey someone had slipped into the drinks. Whatever it was, her usual composure was unraveling, and before long, she was swept up in the energy of the party.

Fred had been watching her from across the room.

He wasn’t sure when he’d started noticing her in a way that wasn’t entirely platonic, but it had been gnawing at him for months. Maybe it was the way she tossed her hair over her shoulder when she was annoyed with him. Or the way she could outwit him in their sparring matches of sarcasm.

But tonight, she wasn’t the sharp-tongued Slytherin who kept him on his toes. She was… carefree. Radiant. She danced with abandon, her green eyes sparkling under the flickering firelight.

“She’s having a good time,” George said, appearing at his side.

Fred rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the insight, mate.”

Somewhere along the way, she ended up on a table. She wasn’t sure how it happened, and frankly, she didn’t care. All she knew was that the music was infectious, the cheering of the crowd was thrilling, and the world felt weightless and exhilarating.

“Y/N, get down from there!” Hermione hissed from the sidelines, but Y/N only laughed and twirled.

Fred froze as he saw her climb onto the table. His pulse quickened as she started to sway to the music, her movements wild and uncoordinated.

“Oh no,” he muttered.

The chandelier above the table rattled as she reached up to mimic a dramatic dance pose, her fingers grazing the crystals.

“Y/N, watch out!” Ginny called, but it was too late. She lost her balance, her head hitting the chandelier before she tumbled off the table.

Fred reacted instinctively. He dashed forward, catching her in his arms just as she fell.

The room erupted in laughter and applause, but Fred’s heart was pounding. He looked down at Y/N, who was giggling uncontrollably.

“You’ve had enough for one night,” Fred said firmly, but his voice was gentler than he intended.

“Oh, George,” she slurred, blinking up at him. “You’re so cute. Don’t tell Fred I said that, though. He’d never let me live it down.”

Fred’s stomach flipped. She thought he was George.

“Right,” he said, trying to mask his disappointment. “Let’s get you somewhere quiet.”

Fred carried her up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory, navigating the curious looks of his housemates. He set Y/N down gently on his bed, draping a blanket over her.

She smiled up at him, her cheeks flushed. “You’re such a good friend, George,” she murmured, her words slurring. “But don’t tell Fred. He’s mean to me. Even though he’s really handsome. And funny.”

Fred felt his face heat up. Was she serious? Did she actually think he was George?

“Don’t worry,” he said softly. “I won’t tell Fred.”

She smiled contentedly, her eyes fluttering closed.

Fred watched her for a moment, his emotions a tangled mess. He brushed a strand of brown hair from her face before turning to leave.

The morning sunlight streamed through the dormitory windows, pulling Y/N from a restless sleep. Her head throbbed, and her memories of the night before were hazy at best.

She sat up slowly, wincing as the events of the party began to trickle back into her mind.

“Oh no,” she groaned, burying her face in her hands.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

Her head snapped up. Fred was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed and a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Fred?” she said, her voice rising an octave.

“The one and only,” he said, pushing off the frame and walking toward her.

Y/N’s heart sank. If Fred was here, then…

“Oh Merlin,” she muttered. “I thought you were George.”

Fred chuckled. “Yeah, I gathered that.”

Her cheeks burned. “What did I—what did you—?”

“Well, you called me cute,” Fred said, grinning. “And apparently, I’m handsome and funny. Though you didn’t want Fred—me—to know that. Bit of a mixed message, don’t you think?”

She groaned, pulling the blanket over her head. “Please tell me this is a nightmare.”

Fred gently tugged the blanket away, his expression softening. “It’s not a nightmare, love. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty great too.”

She froze, her eyes searching his face. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?”

Fred shook his head. “No tricks. No pranks. I mean it.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. “Well, in that case… maybe last night wasn’t a total disaster.”

Fred grinned. “That’s the spirit. Though, for the record, you might want to avoid dancing on tables in the future.”

“Noted,” Y/N said, laughing despite herself.

As Fred sat down beside her, she felt a warmth settle in her chest. Maybe Gryffindors and Slytherins weren’t so different after all.

[uhhlifeig]

Cozy - Dec. 25th - word count: 348 - @wolfstarmicrofic - (happy holidays!!)

It was snowing outside, making the land look like a scene straight from a postcard.

Sirius and Remus were inside, cuddling in one of the squashy couches in the Gryffindor common room. 

Remus was nestled into Sirius’s chest, arms around his boyfriend but somehow still managing to read a book. Meanwhile, Sirius held onto Remus tightly and watched the snow gently drift down from the heavens.

“Hey, Re,” Sirius said after a while of silence. “What do you think you’re gonna do after Hogwarts?”

“Honestly? I don’t know,” Remus answered, voice a little muffled because of the way he was tucked into Sirius. “I mean, no Wizarding places would want me, because- well, you know. I might be able to get a Muggle job, though.”

“But what if you didn’t have a furry little problem? What would you want to do?” Sirius asked.

“Ooh, well, er. I’d love to be a teacher, y’know, of magical subjects. It would be a lot of fun, and quite a few people have told me that I’m a good teacher.” Remus chuckled softly. “Dunno why, though. I’ve swore like a sailor at tutoring sessions before.” 

Then, taking his head off of Sirius’s chest and looking up at him, Remus asked, “What would you want to do?”

“Ooh, tough question, Moons.” Sirius thought for a little while before responding. “If it weren’t for all of this war stuff happening, I’d want to be a Healer. Maybe Auror though, because it sounds awesome,” he smiled.

“Yeah, that does sound awesome. Say, where would you wanna go after Hogwarts? Places to live and stuff, I mean.” Remus fiddled with Sirius’s jumper absentmindedly, waiting for a response.

“I’d maybe get us a seaside cottage, and then connect the fireplace to the Floo so that James and Pete can come over, and then we can spend holidays together like we’re doing now,” Sirius smiled. 

“Sounds cozy,” Remus replied drowsily. “Can’t wait to unwrap presents with you and the boys while you act like five-year-olds.”

“Oi! That’s not nice. I’m a very esteemed seven-year-old, thank you very much.”

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Nest Pic

Inspired by this little bit of omegaverse meta from forever ago.

steddie, omegaverse, modern au, courtship in the digital age

An omega’s nest is a sacred space; private, meant only to share with close pack members, with pups, with a mate. It’s a place to relax and feel safe. A refuge.

Steve’s nest is no different, plush and filled with scent tokens, some so old they smell only of him, of sweet orange and spice. Not many people have seen it: Tommy, after he first presented, back when it was mostly made of nesting supplies his mother picked up at Pottery Barn; Nancy, when they were dating, but she mostly made excuses to avoid being in his nest; Dustin a couple times, when the pup was too overwhelmed, and going home came with too much baggage around his parents’ messy divorce; and Robin. Of course, Robin! For Steve, some days it was almost like having an alpha his nest smelled so much like her. She’ll stroke his hair and hold him close, let him snuggle into her shoulder to block out the light when his migraines flare, and he feels whole.

Eddie’s never seen Steve’s nest, even with Steve offering up his massive kitchen table to Hellfire for close to a year. Even with how close they’ve grown looking out for the same group of pups. Even with Steve routinely spending a Saturday night on the squashy couch at Eddie’s, sharing a joint, his legs sprawled across the alpha’s lap. Even with how cuddly Steve gets when he’s high or tired, how much he clings to Eddie at every chance.

Even now that Eddie has officially given Steve a scent token for his nest.

But they’re still just friends. Close friends. Pack. But *just* friends.

At least, that’s what Eddie thinks until he gets a picture message from Steve close to midnight. No text, just a mess of blankets and pillows, the scrap of the torn up Dio shirt he used to make the patch on the back of his battle vest given pride of place. Warmth fills his belly, and Eddie stares at the photo until his phone goes to sleep, screen turning black.

He hurries to wake it, staring again for a few seconds, then typing a quick, “Can’t sleep?”

“Nope, went for coffee witg Robs way 2 late today. Feel wired” Steve sends back, followed quickly by a second text: “And my heat is due soon”

Eddie reads the words over and over, not sure how to respond, only for another picture to come through, one of Steve, too close up and cutting off most of his face, in his nest, one of Eddie’s hoodies around his shoulders—which Eddie doesn’t remember giving to him, Steve must have swiped it from his den when he was over. He looks cozy, and the pic shows off his neck, the long line of it, the soft swell of his mating gland disappearing into his shirt collar. Somehow, Steve is completely covered up, but it feels like the most salacious image Eddie has saved on his phone (of course he already saved it!). A nest pic is serious. An opening salvo to more.

But Eddie doesn’t trust himself, and he sends a simple, “Steve?” back, even as he feels himself chub up in his sweatpants.

Another pic, showing more of Steve, more of his nest, along with, “You should be here, Eddie”

Maybe he’s lost his mind, but Eddie types back, “15 mins, sweetheart,” as he struggles to find his shoes and his jacket and his keys. By the time he pulls into the Harringtons’ driveway, Eddie has 8 new texts all from Steve. He doesn’t bother looking at them, though.

Steve is waiting for him at the door, Eddie’s sweatshirt still wrapped around his shoulders. “Hey,” Eddie says as he approaches.

“Hey, yourself.”

“I figured we should actually talk in person, because this feels… fast.” Eddie bites his lip, stopping just short of invading Steve’s space.

“Is it, though?” Steve asks with a soft smile. “Robin always says I’m too obvious about my feelings.”

Eddie chuckles; Steve is very physical in his affections. “I need some words, Stevie.”

“I already invited you up to my nest, but I’ll say anything for you, Eddie.” Steve closes the distance between them, and leans in for a tentative first kiss.

Eddie kisses back, pleasant sparks filling his belly as he puts his hands on Steve’s hips. “Say you mean it,” he whispers when their lips finally part.

“I do. God, Eddie, you’ve gotta know that I’m yours. Your omega.” He put his hands over Eddie’s, holding himself in place and leaning their foreheads together. “Now I want my alpha with me in my nest.”

“Lead the way, Puppy.”

[thatrandomwriter]

Be Right Back

Ghostface Stu Macher x Reader

Warnings: Threat of violence, underage drinking, kissing

Summary: Ghostface follows reader into the basement at Stu’s house party, but reader has an idea about who might be behind the mask

“I don’t know what you did, Sidney, but on behalf of the entire student body we all say thank you!” Stu had swooped in to walk with Sidney, Tatum and I, presenting us with flowers. He winked at me, and I rolled my eyes. He clutched his chest as if this was the most heartless action I could’ve taken. I laughed.

“Drop it, Stu,” Tatum said as Sidney looked down at the ground, but Stu was not put off.

He slid between me and Sidney, slinging an arm around each of our shoulders, “Ya know I say, impromptu party tonight, my house, celebrate this little siesta. What do you say?” I could smell his fresh cologne, feel his warmth next to me.

“Are you serious?” Sidney asked, unconvinced.

“Sounds like fun - might be good to take your mind off things?” I said.

“That’s exactly right,” Stu piggybacked off my reasoning, flashing me a grin. I felt my face heat up slightly, “If Tatum doesn’t invite the entire world, we’ll be fine. Intimate gathering, intimate friends,”

“What do you say, Sid? I mean, pathos could have it’s perks,” If Tatum was on board too, there was no way Sidney was saying no.

“You’ll be totally protected. Yo, I am so buff. I got you covered, girl,” Stu made a show of removing his arms from around us to flex them exaggeratedly.

“With Stu as your bodyguard, no-one is getting anywhere near you,” I said, and Sidney smiled.

“Come on, Sid. For me? It could be fun,” Tatum appealed.

“Okay, whatever,” Sidney caved in.

“Yeah? Cool, you guys bring food, alright?” Stu said, leaving to walk in another direction. I turned to wave goodbye, catching him doing a triumphant air guitar.

“Save that energy for the party,” I called back to him.

“I’ll be at the top of my game, don’t you worry,”

*

I was a few hours and a few drinks into the party. Stu had disappeared a little while ago, and embarrassingly, I was disappointed that he wasn’t around to hang out with anymore. Instead, I was sandwiched between Sidney and Tatum, sunk deep into the squashy sofa, someone’s legs across mine.

“I’m getting some more drinks - anyone want anything?” I asked, feeling more claustrophobic than thirsty. I was met with a general consensus that just about everybody needed another beer “I’ll grab whatever I can carry,”

Tatum removed her arm from my shoulders, and I struggled up from the sofa.

“Thank you!” Tatum grinned up at me.

“Be right back,”

I was still getting used to the size of Stu’s house, managing to open two wrong doors before I came across the basement - dark and steep stepped. I fumbled for the light switch, hand patting down the wall, until finally I felt it and flipped it on, lights flickering into being.

The fridge was impressively stocked - full of as much beer as could be crammed into it, bottles and cans stacked haphazardly, threatening to fall to the floor if I made one wrong move. I wiggled a few free, grabbing bottles by the necks in an attempt to fit more in my hands. It would be a miracle if I made it back to the party without dropping any of them, but one trip down into the spooky basement was enough for me, especially with a killer around; I would not be making a second trip if anyone ended up without a drink.

I reversed with the beers, shutting the fridge with my foot and nearly toppling over, stumbling backwards until I hit a wall. No, not a wall - a person, soft and warm.

“Sorry, guess I’m more tipsy than I thought,” I laughed, turning to see who I had fallen into. A white mask, mouth open in an exaggerated scream stared down at me. A ghostface mask. “Shit, you scared me,” Was this just a tone-deaf joke? Perhaps someone had meant to catch Sidney down here to really freak her out. Or maybe this was the real deal - I fought the urge to laugh. This could not be how I died, fetching beer at a trashy highschool party.

“I’m just gonna-“ I moved to walk around him and back up to the party, but he side-stepped, making me walk into him again. Something about him seemed familiar - his height, the way he stood, his smell … I realised then exactly who it was. I had smelled Stu’s cologne when he had put his arm around me earlier, and I could smell it again, now.

“Stu?” I let out my laugh, relieved. He had a tendency to take jokes too far, this was just an instance of his somewhat unsympathetic sense of humour.

Stu shook his head, mask turning from side to side.

“Come on, I know it’s you. Let’s go have a drink,”

Metal gleamed as Stu revealed a knife from inside one of his long sleeves.

“That’s not funny, Stu,” Was this part of his joke? Would he really take it this far, or was I somehow mistaken about the identity of whoever it was behind the mask?

The person tilted their head to one side, as if he were analysing what I was saying. For a moment, we were at a silent impasse. Then, Ghostface lunged for me with the knife. Beer slid from my arms, shattering on the basement floor, and I made no effort to hold onto it as I ducked. I shoved at the body in front of me to put some distance between us. I was trapped between him and the shut garage door - all I could do was try to evade his attacks. Part of me was still convinced that it was Stu, another knew that surely he was not capable of murder. He stabbed at me again, and this time I gripped onto his arm, but the knife was aimed for my chest. I was weaker than he was, and despite all of my efforts, the knife was still closing in on me. I knew in that moment that I was not going to win this fight, so instead, I turned my attention to the mask. I managed to push his arm to the side, stepping away from it so that he stumbled forward. Before he could recover, I grabbed onto the mask, yanking it away from his head.

“Stu?” The reveal floored me. I had been expecting this, I had known it was him, but still I was shocked. Stu regained his footing, taking advantage of my shock to shove me backwards and into a wall, a real one this time, knife at my throat. I was breathing heavily, from a combination of fighting him, fear, and, ridiculously, what felt like nervousness twitching in my chest at our proximity.

“How’d you know it was me, huh?” He pushed the knife further into my skin for a second, punctuating the question.

If it was anyone else, I probably would not have figured it out, “I just … recognised you,”

“You did? Well, I have to say, I’m very flattered - what are you, a stalker?” Stu was teasing me, laughing at me, with a knife to my neck. He stepped forward, even closer to me than before, almost touching me. I could still feel my chest rising and falling heavily.

“You’re flattered?” Part of me thought that maybe playing into this attraction could keep me alive, even just long enough for someone to notice that I had been gone too long from the party. Another part was shamefully intrigued as to where this was leading.

“Of course I am - don’t you think I’ve noticed you too?” he leaned in to whisper in my ear, “Who would’ve thought a knife was the way to get your attention?”

When he pulled back, I couldn’t help but glance down at his lips, how close they were to mine. As soon as my eyes were back on his, I knew that he had noticed. My face grew hot, but something shifted in his expression, becoming less playful and more serious as he surged forwards to kiss me. I tilted my head up towards him, my eyes shutting as his lips moved against mine, fast and hungry and full of desperation. I was pressed between him and the wall, the coldness behind me a stark contrast to the warmth in front. One of his hands found my neck, replacing the knife, thumb grazing my throat in a gentle caress meant to remind me that I was still entirely at his mercy. The feeling made me groan slightly. His teeth nipped roughly at my lower lip, hard enough to sting. I parted my lips for him, and he delighted in sliding his tongue into my mouth, leaving me somehow even more breathless than before.

His hands were on my hips, “Jump up,” Stu broke away from me only for a second, as I jumped up to wrap my legs around his waist. He used the wall to hold me up, one hand snaking back up to my neck, the other resting on my hip, fingers grazing the skin just beneath my top. He used the hand on my neck to pull my head to the side, kissing down my jaw until he reached skin soft enough to leave a hickey. Stu bit at my neck, sucking soft skin between his teeth, making me wince slightly which only encouraged him. When he was finally satisfied, he looked up at me, grinning, “You’re my masterpiece,”

The doorknob jiggled, before a knock on the door made him turn away. “You alright in there? I came to see if you needed help carrying the drinks,” Sidney’s voice sounded down into to basement.

I looked to Stu. Now would be the time for me to scream for help, “All good, I think the door locks when you shut it too hard sometimes,” I said. She would never make it through the locked door in time to save me, I told myself. But Stu was kissing my neck, nuzzling into me, and I knew the real reason.

“If you say so,” Sidney said.

“Yep, I’ll be up in a minute,” I struggled to keep my voice steady, but my reply seemed to satisfy Sidney, as there was no other sound from upstairs.

“How do you know you’ll be back?” Stu asked, finally removing himself from my neck to look into my eyes.

“I don’t, but I thought you’d want me to get rid of her,”

A smile widened across his face at my compliance, and his thumb caressed my throat once again, “Aren’t you clever?”

“Will I be back?” I asked; he was carefully evading answering his own question.

“I haven’t quite decided yet,” his hand had strayed to the knife which had been resting on top of a chest freezer, “But I’m sure you can figure out a way to make keeping you alive worth my trouble,”

[narrans]

A Small and Tall Collection | Chapter Ten | Battle Scars and Boundaries

Chapter Ten | Battle Scars and Boundaries

Her entire body shook violently. Unable to keep anything down and running on a completely empty tank was obviously taking its toll on her, but Ashlynn didn’t care. She had to get out of there – and now.

Trapped in a drawer just a few inches taller than she was, the Borrower woman knew she had maybe a minute before the human man named Soren showed back up with something that was either going to contain her or maim her so she couldn’t escape. She drew her injured arm close to her chest, afraid to use the tender limb, and glanced up at the edge of the drawer.

On occasions where she had to jump and catch herself, she would use her right arm or both arms to support her weight. This time was going to be different, and she only had the one shot. Her heart was starting to thump louder and louder, creating a roaring sound in her ears while her head throbbed.

Jump. Catch. Swing. Get away.

Ashlynn stood on the socks to give her a minute boost up and, bending her shaking legs, sprung up with as much energy as she could muster. Her fingertips barely cleared the top, but her grip didn’t last. The edges of the drawer were rounded, something she didn’t account for, and her weakened body couldn’t maintain her hold on it.

No! Curses! Come on… one more time. You’ve got to get out of here.

Ashlynn gritted her teeth and crouched again before jumping as high as she could. This time, she felt a groove in the wood as her fingers slid over the side of the drawer. She latched onto it. Even as she felt a dull throb begin in her palm as her nails bent backwards, she held on as tightly as she could. Her instinct and sheer will to live helped drive her leg upward, heel snagging the edge of the drawer.

Yes!

Ashlynn had just barely managed to drag herself up onto the edge when she noticed her surroundings within the human man’s room – and it wasn’t good.

From her vantage point, she could see there were two closets at the far end of the room next to the door. There was some kind of large cabinet she remembered him getting not too long ago and a bedside table that was at least a foot from the bed, which was where she was. The drawer she’d been carried here in was on the bed in the dead center. The good news was that if she fell now, it wouldn’t be the end of her.

The bad news was that there was no clear way down.

If she were on the bedside table, she could’ve used the weird looking lamp cord to belay down to the ground, but that was too far away for her to jump in her current state. Perched up high where she was, Ashlynn could see that the blankets on the bed draped over the edge, but she couldn’t remember if they went all the way to the ground.

Did she dare risk the climb and the potential drop down for the chance at freedom? And, if she made it to the ground, could she make it to a loose electrical socket in time before Soren got back?

All of this thinking was making Ashlynn’s head spin, but every dizzying thought came to a screeching halt when she heard a soft, “Oh,” of surprise come from the door.

She’d been looking all around the room instead of the one place that really mattered most – the door. Standing there was Soren holding some kind of red case in one hand and a clear plastic container with a turquoise lid in the other. It startled her so badly that, out of sheer instinct, Ashlynn leaned backwards to try and duck away from being seen by those almost golden eyes.

It was a mistake.

Her already poor balance sent her off of the edge of the drawer. She didn’t fall far, but her lack of balance and slowed reaction times left Ashlynn landing directly onto her injured arm. The squashy blankets did nothing to cushion the fall. A scream of agony erupted out of her before Ashlynn even had time to fully register the pain. Like hot coals being shoved beneath her skin, the burning throb in her arm reminded her of how little she could do now.

Fresh tears sprung to her eyes and she shoved her free hand into her mouth to prevent another vocalization; but did it really matter at this point? Did it count as talking to a human if they heard you scream? The shock of the weight of the body slamming into her injured arm sent a ripping shock wave through her body and, all at once, the nausea returned and the gag she’d suppressed came out of her.

What little bile was left in her spurted out onto the comforter, making Ashlynn burn hot in embarrassment and shame, but also fear. The one oldest human seemed reasonable, but would he have the same kindness now that she’d gotten sick on his bed? No coherent thought surfaced as Ashlynn lay there on the bed cradling her injured arm, the smell of her stomach acid permeating through the air.

This is it. He’s going to come over here and grab me. It’s over. I can’t get away. I can’t escape. I have to be a pet. All that stuff Soren said was just for show. Real person… yeah…

Those two words rang in Ashlynn’s head.

Real person…

He called me a real person. And… and he’s not over here.

Ashlynn’s concept of time was discombobulated, but what she did know was that some time had passed, and Soren wasn’t hovering over her handling her and picking her up to put her back into the box. Even with her eyes stinging from the salty tears, Ashlynn realized she had to look. She reluctantly let her eyes travel from where she was toward the door where she had seen Soren.

To her surprise and utter relief, he hadn’t moved. Not even an inch.

His jaw was locked, and his hazel gold eyes were transfixed on her. The expression on his face was a hard one to read, but Ashlynn knew she didn’t see malice. Concern? Worry? Unease? Eagerness? She wasn’t sure, and her blurring vision wasn’t helping.

What else wasn’t helping was the fact she didn’t know what Soren was thinking; and she wasn’t alone in that feeling.

Soren had stepped away just for a second to grab his medical kit as his mind scrambled to comprehend what had happened over the past ten minutes. A small woman was found in his brothers’ bedroom, and she was sick and injured. His brothers were upset, but they also needed a lecture about the importance of asking for help and also the importance and value of life, no matter how small. He’d just woken up. Part of him wondered if all of this was just a dream.

Then, the moment he made it back to his bedroom to tend to the first of many objectives he needed to tackle, he was greeted with the scene of that same small woman balancing precariously on the edge of the drawer he thought she was contained in before she fell onto the bed, landing harshly on her injured arm. Guilt riddled his mind as he realized he had made some sound of surprise, which probably surprised her. His heart lurched when he heard the woman scream in agony followed by the sound of her gag and subsequent vomiting. The instinct to rush over and make sure she was okay had never been stronger in his life. It was ingrained into who he was. So often he’d rush to his brothers’ sides when something was wrong, but now he forced himself to wait.

She’s hurt.

She’s scared.

She’s sick.

She’s probably alone.

She doesn’t know me.

I have to treat this like ground zero for anyone else. I’ve done this a million times. This is just a million plus one… a very… very… small… one.

Soren felt some switch in the back of his mind flick on and, just like that, his facial expression neutralized. He felt his pulse slow and his mind quiet. For several minutes, Soren simply froze in place and waited as the small woman shivered. It was when his impulse was to take a cautious step forward that the small woman opened her eyes after averting her gaze from him all this time and slowly let herself look at him.

There was no way to know what she was thinking, but Soren knew he needed to start working on her arm as soon as possible. He had to risk saying something to her first. The words usually came to him when he was out in the field working on one case or another. Trusting himself, he took a slow, deep breath and cleared his throat.

“Hey there, little miss. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare or startle you,” Soren stated gently. His heart started to quicken, but he let himself continue. When there was no response, Soren continued. “And… I’m sorry for the way you were treated. Dorian and Rey are young. Just kids. They’ve given me plenty of battle scars too, all from being careless kids. They should know better, but I’m sure they didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s not like them to do something like this on purpose.”

Ashlynn wasn’t sure where Soren was going with this apology, if that’s what it even was, but now she felt like the conversation was being tossed back to her. Was Soren expecting a response? Should she respond? Would saying something help her or hurt her?

No. It’s a trick. I’ve got to refrain from speaking. A scream of pain doesn’t count, right? Don’t all creatures make sounds when hurt?

“Well, I’m here to… I guess… try and make it up to you? You don’t look like you’re feeling well, and your arm is either broken or dislocated. I couldn’t tell which from a glance. I know how to fix stuff like that. So, I’m asking if it’s okay for me to help you.” Soren’s words hung in the air for several, long seconds while Ashlynn processed them.

Do I want a human grabbing and poking and prodding me? No. No! Of course not!

Ashlynn glanced from Soren to her arm as her fingers tingled numbly.

Then again… do I really have a choice?

I can’t get away like this.

I’m sick.

I’m hurt.

I’m alone.

Ashlynn looked back at Soren and then back to her arm.

He might be my only chance at fixing what’s wrong with my arm. I might have to trust him…

The thought was a nauseating one, and one Ashlynn was uneasy to accept. At the same time, what other choice did she have?

The expression must’ve been easy to read on her face because Soren cleared his throat again before asking, “Why don’t we start fresh, yeah? You don’t know me. I don’t know you. So, let’s start at ground zero. My name is Soren. I’m twenty-two years old. My favorite color is pale mint green. I have a sixth sense. Finally, I have a knack for helping people. There. Your turn.”

Ashlynn’s heart raced. She wasn’t sure what to do. The Borrower woman was in the same precarious situation as she was before, but now time was running out. What would happen if Soren wanted the answers now and wouldn’t help her unless she responded? Would she suffer because of her silence?

Soren’s light chuckle drew her attention back to the human across the room. “Well, it’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I mean, the point is for you to get to know me, right? Earn trust, not just give it away?”

Ashlynn couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This had to be fake, right?

“Tell you what. If you want me to leave… no, that won’t work either because I don’t know if you can understand and because you might not feel like talking,” sighed Soren. “Okay, new plan. I’m just going to talk this out in case you do understand, which I believe you do. Regardless of how you feel about me, it doesn’t change that your arm is hurt. So, slowly, I’m going to come over there and I’m going to fix your arm.

“If you don’t want that, say something. Back away. Squeak. Throw something. Anything. If you do understand, just… be patient with me, and I’ll do the same. Right? We’ll make some boundaries from there.” Ashlynn had to give kudos to Soren. He certainly was direct and thinking of every scenario. Was this what happened when you had kids? Especially two rowdy boys? There were obvious flaws with Soren’s plan with trying to communicate with someone who didn’t want to talk, but no one was perfect. If Ashlynn was being honest, it was the best case scenario.

She clenched her teeth and, as her head swirled, forced herself to hold still as Soren slowly took the first step forward. He took another. Then another. Each step felt like he was right there on top of Ashlynn, but it wasn’t until he was actually there beside the bed kneeling that the Borrower woman started to lose her nerve. The true moment she felt like breaking was when she craned her neck to look up into the human’s hazel eyes and swore she saw tiny flecks of green mixed in with those pools of gold.

Her whole body was shaking. Thoughts raced around her mind while being sucked into the void like dust bunnies succumbing to the vacuum cleaner hose. Only now did she register that Soren was still speaking to her, saying the same thing repeatedly.

“You’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

Now merely a foot or so away from her, Soren could see minute details of the tiny woman’s face. The way her features twitched and shifted from resolved to absolute panic. The glistening sweat from her forehead. Every shiver and shake as she obviously fought off every impulse to run. Most importantly, he could see even beneath her oversized clothing that her arm was dislocated and not broken.

Heavens… she’s so human. I can’t imagine being that small. What does the world look like from her eyes? What do I look like?... probably some kind of monster.

Soren’s brief thought let him reflect momentarily on what he wanted to say next. Already, his practical mind was switching into high gear again. He’d helped do so many things in the field before like popping in dislocated shoulders and reviving people who had lost consciousness. He’d never felt so nervous to do what had always come so natural to him.

Get it together. It’s just like all the others. Just smaller. Just take a breath.

Soren followed his advice before setting down the medical supplies he brought with him and focusing on the miniscule woman in front of him.

“Okay. First things first, yeah? Let’s get your arm taken care of?” Soren asked. He received no response, but he didn’t really need to. All he needed to do was inform and perform. “Right. So, I’m going to walk you through this first, okay? What I need to do is slip your arm back into joint. It’s dislocated, not broken. It’s a good thing. Now, I’ll need to touch your arm and your shoulder to get everything back into place. Okay? It’s going to hurt, but after it will feel much better.”

Ashlynn didn’t like the sound of any of what Soren said. Touching. Hurting. Joints. The only acceptable parts were that it wasn’t broken and that it would feel better.

Ashlynn watched as Soren’s fingers crested over the edge of the bed, fingers slightly splayed in a surrendering motion and hovered there for several long seconds. The Borrower woman choked back a sob as she saw Soren’s immense fingers beginning to approach her. Every horrible scenario filled her head and flashed before her eyes. Those fingers wrapping around her, crushing her with as much ease as breaking a cracker. Her fears surrounded her, making the Borrower feel small and powerless. She had no voice. She had no way of escape.

“Hey, little miss, it’s okay. I promise.” Soren’s voice, deep and soothing like a summer rain, was so close that it sounded all encompassing. Unlike her fears of being contained in the fleshy digits, however, the sound of the human’s words was like that of a stack of blankets on a cold winter day. Comforting. Warm. When he said she would be okay, Ashlynn felt like she could believe him.

“Please… will you let me fix your arm?” asked Soren in a tone Ashlynn could only describe as earnest and pleading. Perhaps it was desperation. Perhaps there was something pleading in Soren’s eyes that was just enough to convince her. Ashlynn glanced from the human inches from her down to her cradled arm before, after several agonizing moments, she held out her injured appendage.

It was with increasing difficulty that she felt the tips of her fingers. Even stretching out her arm made her wince. She felt a whimper in her throat, but kept it down as she kept her arm extended. Ashlynn could’ve sworn that she saw Soren’s eyes flare with curiosity and wonder, which he clearly kept at bay as he slowly reached out toward her.

The tips of his fingers easily dwarfed the small woman’s entire arm. Soren knew he had to be careful to not cause more damage, and he hoped she could forgive him. Based on the way it looked and the way she was moving, Soren recognized the injury – a dislocation. Before, he wasn’t sure, but now he was. The pads of his thumb and index finger gingerly grasped the woman’s forearm, making her lean away as her chest rose and fell rapidly.

This is crazy. This is crazy. Both thought silently at the same time.

“So, good news and bad news. Bad news is this is going to hurt a lot. Good news is that your arm isn’t broken, so your recovery time is going to be a lot shorter,” said Soren. Ashlynn’s eyes flicked up to Soren, down to her arm, and then back up to the human whose fingers now practically encased her limb.

Okay. Not broken. I can work with that.

“Okay, there’s two parts to this,” stated Soren as he placed his other fingers by her shoulder. Her eyes, which Soren could see now were a stormy blue gray, were wide open while she continued to suck in beath after breath. I need to be quicker so she doesn’t freak out. “First, I need to get your arm into the right position. Second, I’ll need to pull up and toward you to get your shoulder back into joint. Don’t be afraid to pass out or scream if you need to. It’s going to hurt. Now, lay back on your back and I’ll get you fixed up in no time.”

Ashlynn hated this. Every moment the human man’s fingers were on her was one more second she could feel his steady pulse surrounding her limb. It was one moment closer to her screaming at him to get away. It was one more moment of agony she was subjecting herself to. She hated that, with no effort, he was able to guide her body backwards onto the bed.

The faster he does this, the sooner he’ll leave, and you can get out of here. Ashlynn thought over and over.

“Don’t tense up, and I’ll go on three. Ready?” asked Soren. Ashlynn gritted her teeth as she braced herself. “One… Two… Thr-…” Ashlynn didn’t hear Soren finish the last word. Everything happened so fast. She watched as Soren rolled her arm with ease in between his fingers as he pulled her arm ever so slightly away from her body. The twisting sensation made her head spin, but the distinct *crack* was what made Ashlynn cry out as her vision darkened.

Her ears were ringing, clouding all other senses she possessed, when her vision started coming back. Reverberations in the air shifted and fluctuated around her. There was a slight pressure on her shoulder before it subsided again. The pressure and pain were gone, and sweet relief had replaced it. Ashlynn clenched and unclenched her fist and a smile spread across her face as no stabbing pain ripped through her.

The Borrower woman blinked a few times, vision clearing up, and she could see the blurry face of Soren leaning slightly over her. Something was in his hands, which were eclipsing her returning vision. Her instincts returned and she attempted to sit up and push herself away when she felt another twinge in her arm.

“Hey… hey there… little miss. You passed out on me there for a second. Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Soren’s voice still sounded a bit muffled, but Ashlynn popped her ears a few times as he spoke, and his words became clearer with each word. He held up something that looked like a white cloth diamond. “I know your arm probably feels a lot better right now, but it’s going to be really tender and sore. Okay? So, you need to not use it and put it in something called a sling. It’ll keep your arm still while it heals.”

Ashlynn didn’t like the sound of that. Holding still? Not being able to use her dominant arm? Was this a trick? Or was this real? Soren’s fingers were fast approaching, and Ashlynn suddenly found herself scooting back until her back was pressed against the wood of the drawer that was her confinement the night before. Soren stopped and retracted his hands, sighing only for a moment as he thought about how to best address the issue. He saw distrust and unease as clearly as the sun peeking through the wintery clouds looming in the sky.

What would I do in her shoes? A massive person tells me I can’t leave and that I need to get better.

He looked earnestly into her stormy blue gray eyes and offered a look of sympathy, muttering, “Yeah, I’d have a hard time believing me too.”

This got Ashlynn’s attention. In just a single look, Soren was able to figure out what was causing the issue. He could place himself in her shoes with such ease that it almost felt unnerving. If a dull throbbing wasn’t starting to intensify in her previously dislocated shoulder, Ashlynn would have dismissed Soren’s words instantly.

Seems like he’s telling the truth. I can’t lift myself like this, especially if it’s going to be more painful than this. Ashlynn interrupted her own thought with a round of coughing before focusing back on Soren, who had the same look of concern in his eyes as he did when he first entered the room and saw her fall. He’s been right so far…

“Tell you what. Um… why don’t we… set some boundaries, yeah? Things I’m allowed or not allowed to do. Sound good?” Soren asked. Ashlynn thought about it. It wasn’t the worst idea he’d suggested. The real question wasn’t about boundaries though – it was how she was going to tell him what she did or didn’t want. It required her talking to him.

Do I talk to him? To keep from talking to him? To keep him from touching me?

“I get it. Lots of stuff happening all at once. You might be feeling the symptoms of shock as well as you being sick, but we’ll start with no touching or approaching without some kind of indicator. You seem to be the most scared of that,” muttered Soren. “And, with that being said, instead of me helping you with the sling, I’ll show you how to put it on and you do the rest. Okay?”

Ashlynn swallowed hard, feeling the nasty gloss the mucus had coated her throat with, and glanced from Soren’s hazel gold eyes to the small diamond cloth in his fingers. What on earth is this guy? A mind reader?

Soren wished he could read the small woman’s mind. It would be so much easier than guessing based only on body language and facial expressions. Whether for better or worse, Soren had delt with a lot of people of all ages in circumstances very similar to the miniscule woman currently curled up on his bed. He’d helped children, the elderly, and one too many drunks as well as a collection of everyone in between. Having two young brothers who sometimes struggled with their words didn’t hurt either.

“Well?” Soren prompted. “Sound okay?”

Ashlynn bit her lip and looked between Soren and the cloth again.

“Well, just in case you change your mind about me helping you, here’s how this goes.” Soren proceeded to show her using a pillowcase from his closet how to tie the top of the cloth around his neck in order to support his arm. He demonstrated everything as simply as he could before offering the cloth to Ashlynn.

Ashlynn, head throbbing slightly, leaned forward and snagged the cloth once Soren’s fingers were far enough away. It took her a couple of tries, but she managed to tie a knot in the end and tightened it with her teeth before sliding it over her head and lifting her sore arm into it. The whole time, Soren watched in wonder as the small woman followed his instructions perfectly, even remembering to tuck in the flap at the end to make sure her arm didn’t slide out as easily.

He decided not to make a comment about it, fearing he would make her self-conscious and shut down from future understandings and instructions, and instead grabbed a bottle of water from his kit and filled the lid with water.

“Thirsty?” he asked as he balanced the lid onto the tip of his finger. Ashlynn looked eagerly at the clear plastic cap and the clear liquid it contained. Every part of her craved water except for her throat, which felt swollen and slick. She’d tried keeping water down before but hadn’t had much luck. The Borrower woman knew she needed to try again though, regardless. So, when Soren’s finger approached slowly, she fought the urge to shy away and hauled the cap into her lap where she took small handfuls of water from her unbandaged hand.

The cool water offered little relief and, in fact, made her feel colder. The threat of nausea returned after a few seconds. Soren, however, seemed to have a plan for that. He had already placed a cracker onto a piece of tissue after crushing some of the corners and middle parts before sliding it across the bed.

“You probably need something to eat too, huh?” he asked.

Ashlynn stared eagerly at the broken saltines. She could practically smell their freshness even through her stuffy nose. Soren’s hand approached and, for the first time, she managed to clearly see some of the scars scattered about on his fingers. Some were scrapes and others were cuts, all varying in age. Most of them looked like burns.

Battle scars? Ashlynn thought quietly. What from though?

Ashlynn didn’t feel like spending the energy on trying to figure out what those marks on the human’s hand meant. For now, eating and drinking something and then keeping it down was her primary focus. The moment his fingers were far enough away, Ashlynn leaned forward and snagged a few of the fragments. She nibbled cautiously, drinking a few sips of water after each bite and waiting a moment to see how her churning insides would react. She hadn’t had a proper meal in days, and now she felt like she could finally keep some of it down.

After she finished a few fragments of cracker and part of the cap full of water, she felt her eyelids beginning to droop. The adrenaline that was keeping her upright was now completely depleted, and staying awake wasn’t an option anymore. The unease of falling asleep in the presence of a human also was a fleeting thought that Ashlynn was quickly losing her battle to.

A flicker of movement caused her to open her eyes once more, but what she saw made something in her chest and cheeks warm. Soren had another fragment of soft, fuzzy cloth he’d pulled from the other side of the bed and had set it near her side.

“Alright then, little miss. Looks like you’re getting sleepy, yeah? Okay. I’m going to leave and make sure the boys don’t bother you. I’ll be back in a bit to check on you. If you need anything, you let me know. And don’t hurt yourself getting down or anything, okay? Just get some rest and we’ll talk arrangements… well… I’ll probably talk arrangements, and you’ll probably listen. Anyway, sleep well,” said Soren gently.

Ashlynn didn’t need to be told twice. Before Soren had even left the room, she’d pulled the blanket over her injured shoulder and had laid down on her side, sleep dragging her into darkness in a matter of seconds. The Borrower wasn’t sure if trusting the human was a good or bad decision, but there was no going back now.

Desperation brought her to the brink, and now holding onto the word and a few kind actions of a being she thought would treat her inhumanely was all she had.

She hoped it would be enough.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

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A Tall and Small Collection | Original Story

[freeuselandonorris]

dando 21

wow my daniel voice is rusty lmao.

if you have no clue what a slink is or how to visualise the toy they’re using, here you go!

The box is fucking massive. Lando had paid for the upgrade to Express Post and takes great delight in letting Dan answer the door, shuffle back in clutching a box half the size of his own torso, sliders slapping against the wood floors.

“I’m guessing this was you,” Dan says, squinting at the address label. “Since it’s addressed to Ricky Bobby. Very original.”

Lando beams, makes grabby hands without moving from his position on the squashy leather sofa, feet propped up against the edge of the coffee table.

“Dare I ask?” Dan says, as Lando gets a thumb under the tape and tears it off in one satisfying strip.

He turns the box upside down. The Slink flops out like a tranquilised snake, bounces off his leg and hits the floor with a smack.

Lando looks at it, and then at Dan.

“What the fuck,” Dan says, without taking his eyes off it, “is that?”

*

Lando’s explanations are — well. Patchy at best, because he didn’t exactly give it a lot of thought or research before he hit Buy Now. But Dan relaxes once he’s established, quite firmly, that it’s not going anywhere near his arsehole.

“So, what?” he says, running the length of it idly through one hand. Lando tries not to shiver at the sight. “You’re gonna stick this whole thing inside yourself?”

Lando shrugs a shoulder, does his best to look nonchalant. “Well, you’re gonna stick it inside me, but yeah.”

“Huh,” Dan says. He reaches out and grabs Lando by the hip, rolling him onto his back and putting the toy onto his stomach, the base of it nestling just under his balls. The toy is vaguely sticky against the damp fabric of Lando’s swim shorts.

The tip of the toy reaches up past his navel.

“Huh,” Dan says again, and when Lando looks up at him, his eyes are blown dark. “That’s gonna. That’s gonna go right up there. Like — up there.”

“That’s the plan,” Lando says, and reaches for where Dan’s swim trunks are sticking out in front.

*

It takes forever to get ready, because Lando finally got round to reading the instructions on the website and realised he was gonna have to do a better job of cleaning himself out than his usual hot shower and hope for the best. He’s had no breakfast or lunch. He��s spent the best part of an hour locked in Daniel’s second-biggest bathroom with a fucking enema bulb, and missed going out on the dirt bikes. It better be worth it.

Dan’s unshowered, smelling ripe, just the way Lando likes him best. His muscle tee barely covers his nipples. Lando feels like he’s in some sort of porn, lying on a bath towel with his knees pulled up to his chest and four of Dan’s fingers fucking into him with increasingly squelchy sounds, lube everywhere already. It’s nothing particularly out of the ordinary for them, but it feels different, somehow. More obscene.

When Dan picks up the Slink, it almost skids straight out of his slippery hands and he swears, fighting with it briefly until he’s got one hand tight around the base and the other around the business end. Lando bites his lip to stop himself making a Steve Irwin joke.

“This is — I need three hands,” Dan complains, still wrangling. The toy is soft, flexible. Lando thinks about it going inside him, settling into the contours of his insides, and whines. He’s already leaning against his stomach, just from the thought of it.

When the lubed, pointed tip presses into him, it’s almost an anticlimax. Barely bigger than the width of Dan’s thumb, it slips inside him with no resistance at all. Dan had fucked him last night, opened him up again with impatient fingers earlier, so it makes sense that it’s easy to start off with. But still, a bit of him thinks: is that it? maybe this’ll be easy.

He keeps on thinking that until Dan feeds it maybe six inches into him, and then he stops.

“Okay, that’s — yep.”

Lando hadn’t been able to bring himself to say the words internal sphincter to Dan, not least because he wasn’t entirely sure how to pronounce them. So he’d simply said the instructions reckon you’ll hit a point where it’s like — another hole, but inside. So you have to go carefully, yeah?

It’s a weird sensation. He can feel it in his insides. Pressure, insistent and achy like a stomach ache but good, somehow. It does feel good.

Dan’s wearing his concentrating face, the frown lines between his eyebrows creased deeply as he nudges the toy forward, millimetre by millimetre.

They both gasp when it pushes inside. Into some deep part of Lando that he’s never even really considered before, just some vague confusing memories of diagrams from school he’d paid no attention to.

He makes a sound, somewhere between a gasp and a grunt. Dan glances up at him, worry in his features.

“It’s fine,” Lando says. He sounds breathless. “Go on, just — slow, yeah? Slow and careful.”

And that’s what Dan does. Slowly, carefully, he feeds the rest of the toy into Lando’s body. Until Lando’s soaking sweat into the towel beneath him, eyes screwed closed, breath coming out in quick little gasps. Jesus, he’s full.

“Nearly there,” Dan says, quiet and throaty. “Fuck, man, this is — fucking nuts.”

Lando tries to laugh. It comes out as a kind of strangled gurgle. The motion of it makes his insides shift about, and he can feel it. His guts being rearranged, literally, around the thick silicone twining through them. Fuck, fuck.

He barely registers the stretch in his hole as Dan pushes the toy past its widest point and settles it snugly into place. He’s too busy breathing. Feeling the way his ribcage expands with each inhalation and the knock-on effect it has, rippling all the way down.

“Do I, like…” Dan breaks off with a strained laugh. “Do I fuck you with it, or?”

Lando almost laughs before he remembers that Dan has no clue what this feels like. That he’s got no idea how impossible an idea that is, that Lando wants to lie very still and luxuriate in the fullness forever. “Nah, it’s not like that. I read that I can do it myself by like — squeezing?”

Dan makes an indistinct noise. He’s rubbing himself through his boxers, staring down at Lando.

“You know I can see it, right?”

Lando blinks sweat from his eyes. He can barely think straight. He experiments, one clench, and fights to stop his eyes rolling back in his head. “Oh my God. See what?”

Dan leans forward. Lando’s cock jumps against his lower stomach hopefully, but Dan bypasses it and presses the tight drum of his belly instead, breathing hard. “I can see it inside you.”

God. That’s. Lando lifts his head, craning downwards to check and — yeah. Dan’s right. A little unnatural bulge in his belly, pushing up against the tight muscles of his abs.

“Oh, fuck,” Lando says, wobbly.

Dan covers it with his hand, massaging gently. He’s got his other hand shoved inside his shorts now, moving in sharp jerks, upper lip glazed with sweat behind the moustache. He looks as far gone as Lando feels.

“Come on,” Dan says, rough and giddy. “Let’s see what you can do, baby.”

Lando’s eyes do roll back his head then, and not even because he’s cringing at Dan’s porno dialogue. He’s clenching hard around the base of the toy, over and over, feeling it shift inside his body, feeling the answering pressure of Dan’s hand, like he’s being fucked through his own skin.

“Oh my God,” he says again, gasping, breathless. His voice rises to a high whine. “This is — oh my God, Dan, fuck.”

The orgasm hits him from the inside first. His cock jerks, red and swollen, but he doesn’t come. He’s shuddering, rolling his hips, making guttural sounds. Dan rubs his stomach through it, shifting the toy inside him and sending fresh waves of pleasure up his spine.

“Dan,” Lando whines, and Dan swears.

His hand leaves Lando’s stomach, and there’s a brief second of nothingness until Dan presses his fingers against the flat base of the toy and pushes hard, vibrating it with his fingers like he’s rubbing a cunt. Lando makes a sound he will later deny is a scream and spurts all over his swollen belly. He barely notices Dan’s groan of release a few seconds later, soaking the inside of his shorts.

It takes Lando a long time to come back to himself. He jumps a little when Dan’s mouth crashes into his, kissing him hungrily, a little violently. He tastes like salt and adrenaline.

“You’re fucking crazy,” he says against Lando’s mouth. “Next time I wanna do that with my fist.”