#obviously they wouldn't be able to open said window

[sommerbueckers]

𝐍𝐨 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

➪ 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

______________________________________________________________

PAIGE MOVED QUICKLY to open my door, nearly tripping over her phone feet. I shook my head from behind her, covering my mouth with my hand as I got into the car. She flashed me a goofy smile before shutting my door, hurrying to the driver's side.

The night was warm and the tropical city of Orlando, Florida was buzzing with tourists all over. The car started up and Paige pulled into traffic, even the most frustrating situations seemed beautiful on vacation. I watched with big eyes at all the lights around the city; the fairy lights on the patios of restaurants, the taillights on cars, the bridge lights that illuminated the water below.

Everything was so perfect, including Paige.

She was dressed in a pair of white linen shorts with a pattern crochet button up, her blonde beach waves hanging down over her shoulders. As the night settled in, Paige removed her sunglasses from on top of her head and gently set them in the center console, her eyes briefly meeting mine for a moment before she looked away.

"What?" I raised my eyebrow, looking curiously.

"Nothing," she laughed, "I can't look at you?"

"You can," I shrugged, feeling a blush creeping onto my cheeks. If she asked, I'd blame the heat.

Paige smiled cheekily, biting her lip and looking out her window.

"You wanna get some ice cream?" she asked.

"Not ice cream...something cold though," I replied, thinking about an alternative.

"Frozen margaritas?"

"Yes! Holy shit," I breathed out, my eyes wide, "that sounds amazing right now."

"Calm down lil lady," Paige smirked.

"I can't," I said, "you just managed to make a perfect night even better, I didn't even think that was possible!"

"Tonight was perfect, huh?" she smiled warmly.

"Definitely. If you pulled out a ring right now, it'd be an automatic 'yes.'"

Gasping, Paige asked, "So it wasn't a 'yes' before the frozen margaritas?"

I shrugged, "A solid 'maybe.'"

"I'll remember that then," the blonde nodded.

"Remember what?"

"Your love for frozen margaritas," she said.

"Good."

After a beat of silence, I spoke again.

"But seriously, y'know i'll say 'yes' right?" I asked her.

"To?"

"To marrying you. I can't think of one reason why I wouldn't marry you, unless you've got like some deep dark secret that I don't know about," I explain.

"Hm," Paige nodded.

I frowned, "'Hm'? That's it?"

She laughed, but there was something off about it.

"What do you want me to say?" she smiled with furrowed eyebrows.

"I don't know...I just expected more than a 'hm' y'know?" I shrugged, mocking the way she said it.

She didn't respond at all that time, and when the car came to a stop at a red light, I slightly turned my body toward her. She raised her eyebrows expectantly, her eyes slowly looking me up and down before her tongue darted across her lips. I felt myself grow hot, the urge to relieve some tension building inside of me.

With a deep breath, I was able to clear my thoughts and refocus on the reason I had turned in the first place.

"You don't have anything else to say?" I asked.

"I don't know what you want me to say," she shrugged, "you said you'd marry me if I asked, what -- did you want me to do it now?"

"No," I tried to smile but the frown was obviously there as well, "I just thought you'd have something more to say, that's all."

"Well...I don't, i'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry, you don't have anything to say, it's okay," I reassured, staring back out the window.

Was I overreacting? How did I expect her to respond to that anyway? I suppose I was half hoping she had a ring on standby, and maybe when I realized she didn't, I got upset? We've only been together for three years, and this was our first vacation alone together, I think I just got too excited, and the many couple drinks I had didn't help.

I heard Paige sigh from beside me as the light turned green, and she reached her hand forward to turn the radio down. Now, it was my turn to stare expectantly.

"I've actually been meaning to talk to you about something," she admitted.

"Okay...what is it?"

"It's about us."

The look on her face was one that made my stomach drop, one that made me want to crawl in a hole and not come out. It was one you'd give your partner during a breakup, a 'it's not you, it's me' look. I blinked silently for a few moments, scanning her face. I wanted to burn every detail of it into my mind; her lips, her eyes, her perfect nose. I loved Paige, and in case this was the last of our time spent together, I wanted to savor her.

I swallowed the lump in my throat before I responded, "Sounds serious," I laughed dryly.

"It is...sort of," she nodded.

"I'm listening..."

"I love you, so much, and I know you know that. It's why I bring you everywhere with me, I show you off on my socials, to my friends, my family," she started, emphasizing the word 'family.'

Immediately I knew where this conversation was headed. It was one Paige and I had had countless times; she wanted to meet my family, and I had yet to introduce her. In the three wonderful years that we had been together, she did indeed bring me along with her to every family gathering that she had. I had gone for Thanksgiving, Christmas, a period of our spring break, she even brought me along when she went to surprise Drew for his birthday. But not once, during all of that, had she even seen my parents' faces.

It was wrong, I knew it was, I just couldn't bring myself to admit it, much less do anything to change it. It was better this way, and Paige just couldn't understand that. I don't think she even tried.

"-but I still haven't met yours."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, half listening to her talk and half trying to ignore her.

"Why're we talking about this again?" I sighed.

"Because we need to talk about it," she said, "You say you wanna get married and start a family but you're not even working with the one you already have. If we're gonna take our relationship to the next level, I have to meet your family."

"Why though?"

"Because! You know everything about my family and I know nothing about yours. That isn't weird to you?" she asked, not even giving me a chance to respond before she continued. "I wanna know where you grew up, I wanna know who you get your humor from, I wanna meet the niece you mentioned a couple months ago and then never brought her up again."

I shook my head, "I don't wanna talk about this Paige."

"Too fuckin' bad, this is my car and we're talking about it."

"This isn't your car, this is a rental that I paid for," I argued.

"I don't give a damn! You don't get to control what things we talk about and when we talk about them without giving me a say, that's not fair."

"No, what isn't fair is the fact that you're bringing this up for the hundredth time after I've already told you how I feel about it. That's what's not fair!" I shouted.

"Okay. So what -- i'm just supposed to never meet your family? Is your plan for us to get married and just not invite them, or do they have to watch from a separate room that i'm not in?" Paige asked, completely shutting the radio off.

"Oh my God!" I laughed stiffly, "Why does it even matter if you meet them or not?!"

"Because it feels like you're hiding me!"

"I am not hiding you!"

"Then what the fuck is the problem?! You said they know you're gay, you said they don't care, so why can't I meet them?"

"Because I just don't fucking want you to! Why can't you respect that?!" I frowned.

"Why can't you respect the fact that i'm not marrying you until I meet your family?!" she yelled.

I sunk back in my seat, my lips screwed shut as I thought about her words. Keeping Paige separate from my family had been the best decision for me us, and it was one that I chose had to make on my own. I loved my family, but I had grown up with them and I was used to the way they acted, to the comments they'd make and the opinions they had. After coming out to them, despite their reassurance that they didn't care, I had made a promise to myself that whoever I married would never have to deal with them.

But now here I was, sitting next to the only person I had ever considered marrying with that very promise about to ruin everything. She didn't understand, and I wasn't sure she ever would. I wondered if there was someone out there that wouldn't mind not meeting my family, perhaps I could start over with someone else and make up some sob story about how I don't talk to them anymore. As I looked over at my girlfriend, at the only person who had ever made me feel loved even in the times where I didn't love myself, I couldn't even imagine trying to find someone else.

We were silent the whole way back to the airbnb, our desire for frozen margaritas long forgotten in the midst of our anger. Paige pulled into the driveway and I hopped out the car, storming back into the house. There was so much tension between us and I was wasn't sure I'd be able to handle it all night. We changed in the same room, and I hadn't even bothered to sneak a glance at her. We didn't brush our teeth together, we didn't reminisce on the day or share our excitement for tomorrow, we just stormed around in silence.

The familiar pair of curious blue eyes were missing as I did my face routine that night, and I tried and failed miserably to find peace doing it alone. With the door shut and the faucet running, I cried. I cried until I couldn't see the sink in front of me, I cried until I could feel how swollen my eyes had gotten, until my head ached so violently that I had to take a seat on the tub because I couldn't physically stand the pain in my chest. I loved Paige with my entire heart and I couldn't lose her, I wouldn't.

I didn't know how long I had been in there, but when I came out, I found the house to be empty. I poked my head into the living room hoping she'd be watching the NBA finals on tv, but she wasn't there and had seemingly abandoned the game during the fourth quarter. Our bed was empty, still neatly made from this morning when we had left for the day. She wasn't by the pool either and after walking around to the front of the house to check the driveway, I noticed the car was gone. I could feel my anger rising again, how could she just leave without saying anything?

We were mad at each other and we hadn't worked things out yet. What if something happened to her and I never got to tell her I was sorry, that if she truly wanted to meet my family then i'd do my best to make it happen. What if something happened to me? What if someone saw her leave and was now watching me stand there alone and vulnerable. I quickly turned on my heel, jogging to the backyard and reentering the house. I grabbed my phone to see if she had left me a message, she hadn't. It wasn't like her to up and leave like this, and she knew my rule about going to bed upset, so I stayed up.

I sat cross legged on the couch, watching the remainder of the game and making a mental note on who won. A shark movie came on afterward, and I leaned lazily against the back of the couch as the intro played. About fifteen minutes went by before I heard the garage door open and close, Paige emerging from the hall with a drink holder in her hand. She set it down on the counter and then looked at me. Her face softened quickly, and she grabbed one of the cups before pushing off of the counter to make her way over to the couch.

"Where did you go?" I asked quietly.

She sat down beside me and held out the cup, a straw was taped to the side of it.

"To get this," she answered.

"What is that?"

"Try it," she urged me, opening the straw and stabbing the top of the cup, "you''ll like it."

I pulled my knees to my chest and rested one arm against the top of the couch while I grabbed the cup with the other, carefully taking a sip. I bit back the radiant smile that fought its hardest to pull through.

A frozen margarita.

"I'm sorry," she sighed tiredly, "for yelling at you and for telling you that I wouldn't marry you until I met your family." I didn't respond because I knew there was more. "But you have to understand it from my perspective. I feel like i'm missing an entire part of you, your culture, your traditions, all your little habits and stuff, I wanna know where they come from. You never talk about your family, like sometimes I wonder if they even exist. Like maybe you were made in a lab or some shit," she said.

I shook my head with a small smirk.

"I just wanna know why."

I could tell Paige wasn't gonna drop this, and if I was being honest with myself, she did deserve a better reason other than me just not wanting her to meet them. I set the margarita down on the coffee table and scooted closer to her.

"I want you to meet my family, I do...it's just -- I don't want you to know them. They do know i'm gay and they said that it doesn't bother them but, I see otherwise on their faces. Whenever i'd bring it up or introduce my other girlfriends to them there'd be this weird tension in the room and I just knew it was because of me. They don't particularly care but they don't like it either."

Paige nodded, "So...they're homophobic?"

"Sort of. But not like 'kick me out the house' homophobic but..." my voice trailed off as I shrugged.

"More like 'don't acknowledge it and it'll go away' homophobic."

"Exactly," I nodded.

Paige leaned back against the couch and shut her eyes, blowing out a frustrated breath as she took everything in.

"Paige, my favorite thing to do is show you off, and I don't want you to think for a second that i'm hiding you from anybody, because i'm not. I just don't want you to have to sit through a -- a dinner or a family gathering and deal with the shit that I had to deal with growing up, it's not fun."

"I know, I know," she said, "and thank you for trying to protect me like that."

"But?" I raised an eyebrow.

"But, someone's gotta walk you down the aisle, right?" she smirked.

I gently hit her shoulder, "Paige! This is serious, you wanted to talk about this."

"Alright, alright!" she raised her hands in defense, and when our laughter died down she spoke again, "If you don't want me to meet your family then...I won't push you any further."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Okay," I breathed out, "thank you. I promise you will meet them, just not right now."

Paige smiled up at me, and I could see the faint hint of doubt that her eyes still held, but there was nothing I could do about it now. I wasn't ready for her to meet my family yet, and for right now she'd just have to be okay with that.

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A/N: here's a little smth cus im on vacation right now. this idea honestly came up because last night my brother said he wouldn't come on vacation anymore if i brought a girl with us and my mom js made a joke about the girl being paige and idk, made me kinda sad.

but thanks to them i conjured this up😏 so you're welcome!

[avatar-anna]

It's Hard When We Argue

You quietly walked downstairs into the kitchen, a fuzzy blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You felt hungover, like your entire body had been put through the ringer even though you hadn't had a sip of alcohol last night. For a moment, your chest tightened with anticipation, not sure if you were dreading or hoping Harry would be in the kitchen. He wasn't, but from the kitchen window, you could see the back of his head as he sat on the back porch.

Your mind returned to last night briefly, all the harsh words you shouted at each other and the tears that were shed. You'd never felt so angry and frustrated and hurt in your life, at least not with Harry. He was the one person you could always feel safe and comfortable with. You knew couples fought, you knew that disagreements happened, but that wasn't you and Harry. Maybe you were naive enough to think that you and Harry were so in sync that you would never argue, or at least have a huge blowout argument like the one you had last night, but it had been so smooth sailing since you got together.

Before you went outside, you fixed up two cups of coffee, making sure one of them was the way Harry liked it. You took both of them outside, keeping the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Harry didn't even look up when the glass door opened and closed. He's still mad, you thought. He's so angry he won't even look at me.

"Coffee?" you asked, voice scratchy and raw.

"Mm. Sure, thanks."

Tears welled in your eyes. Here you were, trying to extend an olive branch and talk about your fight last night, and he wouldn't even look at you. Harry stayed sitting on the porch swing, one hand covering his mouth as he looked out at the yard in front of him. Just days ago, you were daydreaming about playing with future kids in that same backyard, and now...Now you didn't know what the future held.

"I think we should talk—"

"Y/n, I really don't think that I can right now," Harry said, running a tired hand over his face. He had bags under his eyes, and his facial hair was more grown out and unkempt than usual. He looked exhausted. And upset. And you didn't know what to do to bridge the yawning gap between you.

"O—Okay," you said, trying to hide the fact that you were on the verge of tears. "Are you—"

"I'm gonna go for a run," he said quickly, pushing off on his knees and standing up.

Harry turned and saw you standing with the two cups of coffee in your hands, one of which he had still yet to take. His face softened a fraction then, his hand reaching out like he wanted to rest it on your shoulder, but he stopped halfway before walking around you and heading out. You flinched when the door slammed shut, tears finally leaking out of your eyes.

Everything was so messed up. You hated this icy tension that was growing between you and Harry, and you worried you wouldn't be able to fix things. Harry was the stubborn type, he always had been, but you'd never seen him be so cold toward you. It killed you.

With Harry out of the house, all you were able to do was think about the argument.

It started out so small, so inconsequential that you almost couldn't understand how you ended up here in the first place.

Harry had been coming home late recently, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but now that he was back from tour, you thought you would get to spend your nights together. But he kept coming home late, and you were never much of a night owl, so it just felt like he was doing it on purpose. You missed him, that was all. All you wanted was to spend time with your boyfriend. To talk about your day and ask him about his and cuddle up together in bed.

"Are you avoiding me?" you asked when he came home late again. Perhaps it wasn't the best way to broach the subject, but you made a mistake by scrolling on Twitter where rumors always ran rampant, so you were a little more upset than normal.

Harry obviously didn't respond well to the harsh accusations you were throwing at him, despising how you jumped to the absolute worst conclusions. He accused you of not trusting him even though you did, but he wouldn't listen, and you couldn't find a way to say you just wanted him around more, not when anger had sunk so deep in the heat of the argument. The argument devolved from there until you went to your separate corners—you to the bedroom and Harry downstairs, presumably on the couch. There were so many cruel accusations thrown around, and so many more things left unsaid, but maybe last night had gone too far. Maybe this was it, and Harry was avoiding the most difficult conversation of all—the breakup conversation.

So you did what you should've done last night. You were going to avoid it altogether.

You anxiously cleaned up around the house for a while, scrubbing down countertops and vacuuming floors and folded laundry, tears occasionally leaking out of your eyes the longer Harry stayed out. You knew he could run for ages, especially when he was in a mood, but you couldn't sit around and wait for him to come back and tell you he wanted to take a break or break up or pick up right where you left off the night before.

Quickly and with shaking hands, you went upstairs and began to pack, tossing things in your overnight bag haphazardly. Some of it could've been yours, and some of it might've been Harry's, you weren't really paying attention, you just needed to get out for a while. If Harry could run, so could you.

Your last step was slipping into your shoes, which you kept by the front door. You were balancing on one foot trying to get your shoe on when the front door opened. Harry breezed in, running shorts high up on his thighs and baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, which were covered by sunglasses. He was so focused on whatever was playing in his airpods that he nearly bumped into you.

"Sorry, I wasn't—Where are you going?" Harry asked, eyeing the bag at your feet.

"I think I'm gonna stay at my mom's for a few days," you said, picking the bag up and hiking it over your shoulder.

"What—Why?"

He looked frantic as he took a step toward you, but you took one back. "It's clear to me that you need space, so I'm just going to step back and let you—"

"See, you're doing it again. You're assuming," Harry said, taking his hat off to run his hand through his hair. "Y/n, if we are going to be in a relationship together, I need you to talk to me, not just assume what I'm thinking."

"I—I'm sorry," you said, realizing he was right. Your assumptions were what got you into this mess. It was so easy for you to get lost in your own head sometimes. "I said things that I shouldn't have last night, and this morning you couldn't even look at me, and I—"

"Y/n," Harry said, effectively cutting you off. He took his sunglasses off, and you got a good look at his eyes for the first time since last night. They were red and watery, like he'd spent his entire run crying. Seeing him so upset made your heart squeeze with guilt. You didn't mean for all of this to happen, but you didn't know how to find your way out of it, either. "I hate that we fought last night. You're not the only one who said shitty things. I—I feel awful. I couldn't stand to see you so upset but I was still a little frustrated from last night and I didn't want the first thing I said to you this morning be something that would lead to another argument. I'm sorry that you thought I wanted you to leave. I don't."

"You promise?"

Harry stepped toward you again and this time you didn't step back, letting him take your face in his hands. "I know I got defensive and things got out of hand, but I heard you, and you were right. Not about the avoiding you part, but I...have been absent, and I'm sorry for that too. I just...you know I hate the cheating accusations. I would never cheat on you, Y/n. Ever."

You nodded, knowing he was right. Accusing Harry of cheating was a low blow, one you resorted to so he would hurt the way you did. He'd called you insecure and needy and that you weren't his mother and didn't need to report to you about his whereabouts all the time. It made your blood boil, seeing as all you wanted was to spend quality time with your boyfriend after so much time apart. So you went for the jugular. You hated yourself for using an insecurity he confided in you about against him, hated that it had its desired effect.

Nodding, you said, "B—But why have you been gone so much?" you asked. "I thought after the tour was over you would...be around more."

Harry took you by the hand and led you away from the door, taking your bag from you and tossing it away unceremoniously and muttering about you leaving being ridiculous. It made you giggle, which felt good after a night of feeling absolutely awful. You thought he was going to lead you to the couch, but he brought you over to the kitchen instead, taking you by surprise when he hoisted you up on the counter.

"I haven't cheated on you, I swear," Harry repeated. "I've been—I can't tell you what I've been doing, but I need you to trust that it's all been for a good reason. Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me, my love?"

You shook your head. Now you were dying to know what he was up to all the nights he stayed out late, but despite the argument last night, you trusted Harry.

"I don't like it when we fight," you said softly, playing with the pearl ring on his finger. "Can we agree to never do that again?"

Harry grinned before leaning forward to kiss you. Your arms immediately wrapped around his neck to hold him close. When he pulled back, he kissed the top of your head, then your cheek.

"I can't promise we'll never fight again, but I promise to fight and make up with you for the rest of my life. How's that sound?"

Your ears perked up, your thumb rubbing over his cheek. Both of you looked like wrecks, but you didn't want to run from him, and he wasn't running away from you, either. It was a bad night. Maybe there would be more, but Harry was right. If you had to argue every once in a while with someone, it might as well be him.

"You don't really think I'm needy, do you?" you asked. It was the last wrinkle you needed to smoothe over before everything was set to rights.

Harry shook his head, picking you up off the counter and heading for the stairs. "If anyone's needy in this relationship, it's me."

"I think it's safe to say we're both pretty dependent," you mused, enjoying being so close to him after a night apart. He was a little sweaty from his run, but you didn't mind. You just wanted to feel his body against yours.

He set you down in the master bathroom connected to your shared bedroom, turning the water on in the shower while you quickly got undressed and helped him out of his clothes. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as your fingers traced the hard planes of his stomach, admiring all the curves and ridges and smiling when goosebumps appeared under his skin.

Harry leaned down to kiss you, but you stopped him just before he could, placing your fingers over his lips. "I know you said it was for a good reason, and I believe you, but you—are you able to come home earlier? At least just a few days out of the week? I—I miss falling asleep next to you."

"Of course," he said. A look flashed across his face that you couldn't read, but it was gone before you could make sense of it, replaced by a cheeky grin as he pulled you into the shower with him.Trust me, by the time the day is over, you're gonna be sick of me."

Giddiness spread through your whole body, replacing every horrible and awful feeling that had lingered from the night before. With one hand on his chest, you pushed Harry up against the cool tile wall of the shower, reaching up on your toes to kiss him hard. The water made your bodies slippery, and the steam made you both a little breathless, but you didn't care, you just wanted to feel him, breathe him in deep, never let him go.

This secret Harry was keeping from you would most likely gnaw at the back of your mind until he eventually told you, but you would do your best to respect his wishes, to trust him like you said you did. Right now, you were content with the fact that despite the fight, he heard you, and you understood his side. That seemed like a good enough conclusion for you.

And maybe a little arguing wasn't so bad if each one ended just like this.

[joostsblog]

hey i love ur work !! could you do a joost x reader who’s scared of the dark and there’s a power cut or something pls 🩷

you're all i think about ~ joost klein friends to lovers one shot

My masterlist here ✨💌

Pairing: Joost Klein x female!reader

Description: A movie night at your friend Joost's place turns into disaster and maybe something not so bad after all when there's a power outage.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Tysm for the request, I loved writing it! I hope you enjoy❣️You can always send in requests <3 (title borrowed from the song lights out by fizz!)

Warnings: a panic attack, fear of the dark, not proofread

Movie night tonight? Joost had texted into your friend group chat and somehow nobody was down. Except for you. You were always down if Joost would be there. You would cancel other plans if it meant that you would be able to see Joost. So this is how you ended up by your friend Joost's doorstep, snacks in hand, ready to spend the evening at his place.  

You had known each other for a few years now, hanging around in the same circles but it had only been 7 months (7 months and 11 days to be precise, you kept count) since you had suddenly developed a crush on your friend. A crush so bad that sometimes you almost couldn't contain it and you were afraid that any second you would lose control over yourself and just blurt out your confession in front of all your friends when you hang out. Thankfully that hadn't happened so far. So you kept your secret.

You were afraid that if Joost would find out about your true feelings for him, it would ruin your friendship. That all the long hugs, the loving teasing, the ruffles through your hair, the sweet compliments and pep talks would end because he would feel weird about showing that affection to you.

"(Y/N)!" Joost exclaimed with a big smile as he opened the door for you and engulfed you in one of those heavenly hugs. "So glad you could make it!" he said as he rubbed your back softly. "I can always count on you," Joost said after pulling back.

"Of course!" you said.

A short while later you were both lounging on the sofa, while High School Musical was playing on the TV (Joost's choice), giggling and singing along. Your sides were almost touching, Joost's fingers occasionally grazing yours when you both reached for the popcorn bowl at the same time. In moments like these, the longing and wanting you had for Joost was almost unbearable. You just wished there was a universe in which you could just reach out for him and kiss him on the lips as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Instead, you were damned to stay at a distance and just drink up every small touch that occurred to keep you satiated.

Suddenly the TV and all the lights in the room turned off all at once and you were sat in darkness.

"What the-?" Joost laughed amused.

You were frozen on the spot and stayed silent as you were scared of the dark. You just hoped that the darkness wouldn't persist too long as you could feel yourself spiralling already.

"I'll check if it's the fuse," Joost sighed, obviously slightly annoyed at the inconvenience.

"Alright," you said quietly as Joost got up and used his phone's torchlight.

You took a peek outside the window and realised that the streetlights were also off which would imply that there was a bigger power outage.

"Fuck fuck fuck," you whispered.

This was bad. Not knowing when and if the power would come back on only worsened your state and being left alone in Joost's living room certainly also didn't help. You grabbed your phone and forced yourself to get up from the sofa. You walked to the door that connected to the corridor to look for Joost.

"Joost?" you asked timidly before you turned your head to look down the dark corridor.

"Booo!" Joost suddenly said with a laugh appearing out of nowhere in front of you.

Your heart skipped a beat and you dropped your phone. Your body started shaking uncontrollably as you tried catching your breath, having absolutely no control over your bodily reaction to what Joost probably thought was a harmless joke. Overwhelmed you could feel the tears slowly trickling down your cheeks.

"(Y/N), everything alright?" Joost asked concerned as he registered your quick breathing. You tried answering but couldn't produce an intelligible response. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry," Joost said as he realised his mistake. His arms quickly wrapped around your body as he engulfed you in a warm embrace. His chin was resting on your head as he was taller than you, his hands softly caressing you. "(Y/N), I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," you could tell that Joost felt bad for causing your panic.

"It- it's f-fine," you finally managed to push out.

"No no no, I'm sorry," he repeated, softly swaying your bodies back and forth.

"No, I'm such a chicken, I'm afraid of the dark," you explained, voice straining as your throat felt tight and your tears made it difficult for you to speak.

"I swear I didn't know," Joost said. "Come here," he said and led you back to the sofa. "Sit down and close your eyes, just pretend you're taking a nap, okay?" he said and you did as you were told. He softly put a blanket around your shoulders as he sat down beside you. Joost rested his hand on your cheek and wiped away some of your tears.

"I feel so stupid," you admitted, feeling terrible.

"No no, please don't, Lieverd," Joost softly insisted and you wondered whether the pet name was a slip of the tongue. "Don't say that," he said and suddenly you could feel his lips pressing to your forehead and your heart fluttered. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I'll be right back, I swear," Joost said before getting up from the sofa.

You kept your eyes closed and tried to calm down your breathing slowly. Having felt Joost's lips against your skin just a moment before sure did distract you but it also certainly added to your nervous heart beating.

"Here I am again," Joost said in a soft tone to not scare you this time. You could hear him shuffle around the room before he said "I got us some lights," and you opened your eyes.

Joost had propped up both of your phones with the torchlight illuminating the ceiling as well as his laptop and iPad which just showed a white screen at maximum screen brightness.

"I don't have any candles," Joost said apologetically.

"It's fine," you softly laughed. "Thank you."

"Well, candles would have been more romantic," Joost said and your heart fluttered again. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" he asked earnestly.

"This is much better, thank you," you said. "But a hug would be nice."

"Of course," Joost smiled and opened his arms as you crawled over to him into his arms. "I'm sure the power will come back on soon," Joost tried reassuring you, his hand softly stroking the back of your head as you were cuddled up against his chest. Joost started softly humming some melody and the vibrations from his chest started calming you down more.

"This is nice," you murmured and you could hear a smile in Joost's hum, his hand drawing circles on your back. "I'm sorry if I ruined this night."

"No, don't be silly," Joost pulled back lightly to look at you sternly. "Any moment spent with you is perfect."

You looked up at him, heart beating fast as you realised how close you two were to each other. In this moment you wished you were in pitch darkness again because maybe then you would have had the courage to close the few centimetres between you and kiss Joost.

"Don't tell the others, but you are definitely my favourite out of all of them," you said which was the closest thing to a love confession you were able to get past your lips. You saw how Joost's eyes lit up at your words, a grin spreading across his lips.

"You are also my favourite, Lieverd," he whispered. You looked at each other in silence, Joost's hand holding your head, his other arm still wrapped around your shoulders. Joost moved his hand to cup your cheek instead and looked at you fondly. His thumb was just resting by the corner of your mouth. You almost didn't dare to breathe just to not interrupt this delicate moment. Joost's thumb lightly brushed against your bottom lip and your heart skipped a beat before he moved closer to you and you instinctively followed suit. As your lips were only a centimetre apart the both of you briefly paused as if to ask the other for permission before you closed the gap and your lips finally met in a kiss. It was gentle and sweet but yet so passionate. Your hand was resting on Joost's chest you swore you could feel his heart beating faster. His arm was holding you close and his smell engulfed you. It was everything you had hoped for and so much more. After you broke the kiss you grinned at each other, Joost's hand caressing your cheek.

"I'm gonna make sure you'll never have to be in the dark again, I swear," he said before leaning in to kiss you again.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Is there any way I could request more of Danny's Grill? I keep re reading it and it's so great!

Danny's mansion amazed Tim, which said a lot given that he had lived in the Drake and Wayne Manors. It seemed almost like a castle, with its four floors and a few towers (four at each corner of the fenced-off stone. Danny had his property enclosed. )

Everything screamed old money and was well taken care of. He also was surprised to find that the whole place had a lot of natural light.

The drive out of Gotham got them away from the dark cloudy skies to wide blue, and the mansion had plenty of strategically placed windows that caught the sun to light up the rooms.

It was likely that way since the place was obviously built before electricity. Even the air felt lighter, sweater, and caused ease to rest in his bones. Tim found himself strolling through the place, oddly at peace with the silence.

He had taken a dip in Danny's pool, adoring how it was designed to resemble a natural river, complete with a waterfall. It was still a pool, with the proper level of chlorine and tile floor, but there were rocks and multiple plants all around that really sold it to him.

The waterfall was made from unevenly stacked rocks as if carved out of a cliffside. He enjoyed sitting near it, flouting in in the rippling water and listening to the falling water.

Tim found a makeshift bench from the stacked rocks right under the waterfall, where he could comfortably sit down and have the water reach his shoulders. He found himself in that same spot often over the week since he came to stay with Danny.

He was in a fluffy red bathrobe- and nothing else- having just finished a shower to wash off the pool's chlorine. His bare feet patted against the tile floor as Tim once more appreciated the artistic white and gold wallpaper.

He loved that it had leaf-like designs that weren't all over but small enough to give the place a pop of color.

He was still thinking of a destination, wandering about the large building while waiting for Danny to return.

Danny has also been a gracious host. After the first night, he had made him some food and offered him a room across from his, just as large as the master room. It was a lovely white with gold trimming, matching the rest of the mansion but left room to decorate the walls to his hearts content.

Tim hasn't, but Danny seemed rather insistent that he could if he would like to. That Tim had the option open to him. Danny, he came to find, was all about giving people choices.

What did they want to eat? Whatever Tim was in the mood for.

What should they do? If Tim was okay with being around people, they would go out and take pictures. If he was having an overwhelmed day, then Tim could find his own little corner to sit.

Was it okay if Danny gave him friendly hugs or pats? Only if he asked Tim before going in for a hug.

Could Tim walk around in nothing but a bathrobe? Of course! If it made him feel better, Danny could even avoid the entire west side of the mansion so he wouldn't have to see him if he thought like clothes were a bother.

It was enjoyable but also baffling.

Tim has never met someone who gave him as much attention as Danny did but also respected all his boundaries. He enjoyed talking about them, setting them, and even seemed to glow whenever Tim carefully tested the waters, by placing some that would have upset his past friends and family.

Another thing that needed to be clarified about Danny was that he plainly didn't make any sense at all. Tim had always assumed Danny was middle class- maybe high middle- since he ran his own food truck and all but it was obvious by his house that he didn't need it.

Danny's family- from what Tim had been able to uncover- had always been low, middle class up until Danny had been fifteen. Then their luck turned when a rich distant relative by the name of Pariah Dark willed Danny all his fortunes.

Who was Pariah Dark? What happened to him? Why was Danny the only one he left his money to and not all of the Fentons? Why did this property sit for years without any record of usage yet still look brand new?

There was also the question of whether Danny was human.

Tim is sharp when finding small details that lead to clues that lead to answers.

It's both a curse and a blessing.

In this case, he noticed little things about Danny; his tendency to not notice the cold weather, his slight winces when loud noises were near, his graceful steps that were sometimes a tad bit off of gravity, his eyes seemed to change color- blue and green- and the way he would stare into shadows, gaze following something that Tim could not see.

Tim could have assumed Danny had some mental issues- who didn't at this point?- but he felt that wasn't the real reason or not all of it.

He couldn't explain it, but Danny felt like more. Especially when he returns from Gotham because the air feels aware of his arrival. Like it got excited that Danny was back.

Was the mansion sentient like the House of Mystery? Or was it an extension of Danny himself?

Tim had accompanied Danny on a few of his food truck runs. Mostly as a chasier but Danny had beamed when he asked if he could join him three days into his stay.

He did to observe how Danny interacted with the people of Gotham. Just like the air gane a certain something, whenever Danny sold his ware and the people thanked him, he seemed to puff up in strength.

Not the pride in his work kind of puff up but an actual burst of energy as if though he had taken an energy drink. This was doubly so when he gave the street kids free meals. Helping them seemed almost like a drug to Danny.

It begged the question of whether it was, in a sense, a drug. Because Tim could see all the tiny hints that helping people seemed to do much more for his friend. He had dilated pupils, a droopy smile, and random bursts of energy, and he even got a bit snappy when he went too long helping.

Tim could even claim that it was as if Danny was making Deals, and he did not dismiss his hypothesis because Tim had already dealt with aliens, demons, and gods as Red Robin.

Fae or other magical creatures wouldn't be as far-fetched as he once thought.

Did that mean Danny Fenton was never fully human or that something had happened to him that changed him?

There were many questions. Not enough answers.

Yet despite all of that, Tim couldn't find it in himself to think Danny was dangerous. If anything he could only safely conclude Danny lived and breath to protect others.

Tim, the sole attention to his protective tendencies due to proxy, was all but wrapped in a blanket of affection and respect. It could drive a guy to do something silly, like hang up his cowl, resign from WE and live the rest of his life as a pampered prince awaiting for his King.

How odd.

Tim never wanted to do any of those things, but he felt he would if Danny asked. The best part? He knew Danny would never ask that of him which made him want to stay even more.

It's too bad all good things have an end. Tim thinks wistfully. He would much rather spend his days here, but his family was anxious about the lack of check-in.

Tim didn't want them to find out about Danny and had chosen to send a delayed message from the Nest, letting them know he was undercover, infiltrating a possible new magical court. The Bats knew not to risk his cover but they also wanted some proof he was doing alright.

He had asked Danny if he could go to Gotham for a quick trip, and despit the saddness in his blue eyes, Danny always let him. He even gave him the keys to a his car, walking him to the gate with a promise the gates were always opoen to Tim.

Tim would use those visits to catch up on WE work and deposit information packages at Bat checkpoints. He would also pick up coded folders from other family members who wanted to keep him in the loop should their cases overlap.

It's been three weeks since he came here; in that time, Jason had cracked down on pimps and working people. The family was helping him, as Jason was attempting to fulfill a favor that someone had cashed in and was struggling to find the working boy his contact was worried about.

Apparently, the guy was regularly getting roughed up and was underage to boot. Tim hopes Jason finds the jerks hurting him. He would love to help but he had to figure out Danny Fenton first.

The air brighten, snapping Tim out of his thoughts.

Danny was home.

He turned towards the main gate, scurrying to make it to the front door before Danny could finish driving up the drive way and park his car under neeath the shadow parking spots.

His heart fluttered as he barely slide into the main hall way and the wood of the door swung open. Danny steps in, still wearing his black t-shirt and jeans that he favored when working his truck.

"Welcome home!" Tim tells him, watching Danny's whole face break into a wide grin. It was like dawn breaking over the horizion and it made him feel all sorts of warm.

Danny was definitely beautiful enough to be otherworldly.

"I'm home, Alvin." Danny pauses and then gestures to his robe, his smile turning warm and fond. "Another late swim?"

"I like the water. It helps my bones," He says, shrugging his shoulders.

Danny hums. "I could ask a friend of mine to install a hot watered pool for you."

Tim considers it. He wants to say no but he just knows the mansion will rat him out. Danny seemed to always know when a lie is spoken here. Another check in the Fae theory.

"If....if it's not a bother, that would be nice." He says suddenly overcome with shyness. The feeling vanishes at the utter delight and green eyes of Danny.

"It's never a bother! The east wing has a smaller pool that rarely gets used. I'll make some calls and have it turn into an artificially hot spring for you." Danny chirps. "It would help me relax too. You would not belive the fight I had with Robin today."

Tim stills. "You fought Robin?"

"Not physically." Danny corrected but still shook his head sadly. "We disagreed on the case he's helping Red Hood with."

"What case?" Are Damian and Jason working together on the working boy's case? Or was it something else? And more importantly did he try Danny's food?!

He may come back for more if he did, and Tim's personal cheat truck was no longer his own!

"I'm not sure of the details, but they are trying to map out all the working girl's corners. He was upset when I told him I would not release that information to a child." Danny sighs. "I know he's Robin, but I could sense how uncomfortable it made him feel, you know? It made my core ache, but Robin took it as me not wanting to respect him as a hero. It was a whole thing."

Tim has so many questions he feels like he might just burst. It's only years of training that had him clamping down on all but one. "You're helping the Bats catch prostitutes?"

Danny's eyes widen "No! No! Not the employees themselves, just their sick pimps. I would never rat them out."

Tim nods once. "Okay."

"I mean it, Alvin. I would never"

And the blue eyes have flickered to green again. Interesting.

But he can't help but relax smiling at Danny. "I know. Thank you for helping them though."

Danny's face flushes, and then he hastily looks away. Coughing into his fist, he mutters, "Are you hungry? I still have some leftover Pizza from today's menu."

"Starved. Want to watch a moive while we eat?"

"Yeah, sounds good-are you-I mean, will you be-um" Danny fumbles over his words gesturing at him. Tim tilts his head in confusion, wondering why he sounds so nervous, until Danny finally blurts. "Is that all you're going to wear?"

"Yeah. It's soft." He says playing with the robe's sleeves and Danny swallows.

"Alright. Okay. I um I'll get the pizza. Will you go pick the moive and get it ready?"

Tim beams, twisting on his heel to do just that and catching the reflection of Danny clutching his chest and screaming silently into a closed fist in a nearby wall mirror. His face is redder than before, and the house ripples with excitement, glee, warmth, and happiness.

Interesting indeed.

[teencopandthesourwolf]

“Why did you ask me that?”

“Huh? What's that, big guy?” Stiles mumbles, answering the query with one of his own without looking away from Derek's laptop screen. The laptop Derek kind of bought for Stiles for when Stiles is at the loft.

Whatever. 

There's a ballpoint pen shoved in the kid's mouth—God, that mouth—and another slid behind an ear, the latter ready and waiting for Stiles to click to death in the In Between Typing Times.

The others dispersed a couple of minutes ago. Apart from Derek and Stiles, only Lydia and Deaton now remain at the loft and they're deep in conversation about the preliminary theory of who or what is killing the humans of Beacon Hills this week, and are standing at the opposite side of the open-plan space, making more coffee. Scott and Malia left to rally the other ʼwolves (not answering their phones as they're at a cinema screening) plus find and talk to Argent to arrange a pack meeting proper about the situation, so they can all work on devising a plan. Granted, there is Peter to consider—who's probably still lurking somewhere, what with lurking being one of his favourite pastimes—who can obviously hear any and all conversations that are, or could be happening inside of the building. Sadly though, Derek has never been able to hide much of anything from his uncle.

So. 

He thinks about elaborating on the question he asked Stiles, but can't.

He tries not to stare at Stiles, and fails.

Stiles is squinting at the screen with intent and looking like he has forgotten that Derek said anything at all. Or that Derek is still hovering close by. Or that Derek, you know, exists.

Derek is just standing there, all difficult and awkward in his own fucking home and his own fucking body, looming over Stiles like a creeper as Stiles taps away furiously at the keyboard and violently zig-zags a fingertip across the mousepad like an actual lunatic.

Derek almost laughs at that.

The Boy Who Runs With Wolves.

“Why wouldn't I?” Stiles now asks, still mumbling around the chewed ballpoint Derek is trying not to be jealous of. 

“I—what?” Derek's caught off guard; always and only by Stiles. 

Stiles doesn't skip a beat, unlike Derek's heart. “Why wouldn't I ask?” he adds.

Oh, right.

“I, uh, I don't... ” Derek trails off pathetically, swallowing any confidence he had previously mustered and looking away from Stiles, even though those big, brown devastating eyes aren't actually looking at Derek because they are, of course, still zoomed-in on whichever web page is currently yielding the most information.

Dusk is quickly closing in and all around them and the light filtering through the loft's huge window has begun to dim somewhat, so that the glow of the computer screen is now filling Stiles' eyes with bright, dancing sparks and arrhythmic shapes as they flicker like lightning from one tab to another, then another, then another. And as mesmerising as it is to watch—Stiles looking as though he is brimming with magic—the sight becomes too much for Derek, and looking away feels like his only option.

It doesn't last.

Stiles' long, large-knuckled fingers still their rapid movement just as Derek's eyes find their way back.

Derek watches the kid some more, like a lifeline.

An anchor.

Then, Stiles is taking the pen from those perfect lips as sneaker-toes slowly spin the swivel chair around, so that Stiles is now facing Derek where he stands with arms crossed reactively over his chest.

His heart.

“I asked if you were alright because I wanted to know if you were okay, man," Stiles divulges, as if that's nothing at all. As if it's something Derek hears often. He tilts his head to catch Derek's eye, which works, of course, because it always works, no matter the nature of the moment they're caught up in. "Like, I was concerned, y`know?” 

Derek feels guilty just for looking. And not only because he wants to touch but because he wants to let Stiles care.

“I care, dude,” Stiles says on cue and Derek tries to self-implode while Stiles waits, probably for Derek to look at him and say don't call me dude and probably hoping not to have his head bitten off or his throat ripped out. 

Derek does look again, just not for long. Barely a glance. He can't afford himself too much Stiles, not when Stiles is looking directly back at him. It's safer that way—self-preservation and all.

“You do know that, right?” Stiles tries again. “That I care.” 

Derek wants to ask Stiles if they can talk, if Derek can tell Stiles things. Derek wants to ask Stiles if he'll stay, and if he'll let Derek spill his secrets, let him tell Stiles everything, like Derek never does with anyone these days, and if Stiles will hold Derek's hand when Derek cries about it, like Derek doesn’t allow himself to anymore. Derek wants to ask Stiles if Derek can touch him and hold him and if Stiles would hold him back, if Stiles would ever want that, if Stiles could ever be his.

“Don't call me dude,” is what he actually says because he can't not. But then he steals himself, head staticky and heart thumping as he dares himself to add (after what is undeniably too-long a pause), “And yeah. Maybe I do.” 

Then they look at each other. They just—look.

They look and look and look.

And they each keep looking at the other for a very long time. Definitely too long for two people supposedly not much more than acquaintances. Allies, maybe. Comrades at tenuous best.

Then they look for longer. Look for more. Look until it starts to feel as if they are the only two people in the room, in the building, in the world.

Whatever happened to self-preservation?

Something is starting to happen, and Derek is pretty sure it's not just happening to him, and he finds he is equally stunned as he is thrilled as he is completely fucking terrified about that. 

Eventually, Stiles says, “Derek, we're friends.” Then he's licking his lips and looking Derek up and down, shameless, adding—with a nonchalant shrug of one shoulder—“Till we're not.”

The latter part is spoken like a ominous secret, but one without the slightest hint of malice, because that's not how he means it. It's more promise than threat, if Derek is remembering correctly what genuine affirmations sound like (it's been a while).

The sparks from Stiles' eyes are then flashing blue in Derek's and Derek could swear he hears every every one of his neurons firing inside of himself, all at once, as each of his mutated cells flare into overdrive; nail beds and gums tingling, the short hairs on the back of his neck and arms and hands standing up on end.

He feels utterly alive.

It's honestly a struggle not to keen and whine like a pup, and Derek has truly never been more happy of the fact that Stiles is unable to scent chemo-signals because, oh, yeah, Derek would be so fucked right now.

He has a reply for Stiles but it's caught in his throat, the sentence forming then solidifying, fast as a quick-drying glue.

Derek is just—standing there. Statuesque. Alternating between trying to swallow his words down and attempting to speak them, like a first class dipshit. Just looking and looking and looking at Stiles.

In an entirely mortifying turn of events, it is actually the sound of Peter's low, mocking chuckle from some tucked-away shadowy place in the loft that is the thing that forces Derek unstuck, and it takes all Derek has to not roll his eyes to the back of his skull and growl out I'm going to kill you again now, Uncle. 

He takes a breath, un-clenches his fists and tries for a smile—or at least a hint of one. He doesn't want to freak the kid out.

Derek then manages to repeat Stiles's words back at him, no more than a whisper.

“Till we're not.”

Stiles is just looking and looking and looking at Derek, before he's asking, “Can I stay for the evening? You can talk to me while I research. I always work better with noise. It'll be soothing,” like he's ordering pizza instead of answering all of Derek's prayers.

Derek notes how the kid's usually erratic eye-contact is weirdly as unwavering as his usually erratic heartbeat, which is now weirdly steady as a metronome.

That's a lot of weird. 

Derek fights the urge to bite into his lip with his fangs. He wants to draw blood, and to taste it.

He embarrassingly feels his eye twitch and his breath hitch as he dares himself to do this. 

He sputters, “What do you want me to talk about?”

Stiles slowly swivels back towards the light of the laptop—ethereal milky skin and dark moles once again luminous in its white-blue glow—at the very same time as the evening's first moonshine peeks through clouds and seeps in through the loft's huge skylight.

Derek is memorised. 

Stiles starts annoyingly clicking away at the Clicking Pen, while shoving the other back between those beautiful lips of his, now mumbling his words around the thing once more and speaking them as if they are the most obvious thing in the universe.

“Everything, Der.”

.

for @poebin for asking <3 (unedited, soz)

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Birthday Plans - Charles Leclerc

<word count - 5161>

warnings - smut near the end, nothing too hardcore

The bright sunlight streaming through the curtains of yours and Charles' bedroom window disturbed Charles, and gently ushered him awake. He turned onto his side, expecting to see you lying beside him. Much to his disappointment, you weren't there.

"Baby?" he called out, but his voice was drowned out by the silence of your apartment. That was odd, he thought, since he hadn't noticed your departure. Normally, he would feel the temperature drop beside him and the bed would shift slightly, but he hadn't even realised.

Wanting to find you, he reluctantly pulled himself out of the warm and cozy confines of your bed, and padded through your apartment to find you. As he walked through the hall, he spotted random pieces of confetti sprinkled about the floor.

That was when it dawned on him. Checking his phone, he saw what day it was. 16/10/23. He couldn't believe that he'd actually forgotten that today was his birthday, and he realised exactly where you were. He also couldn't believe that you had let him forget.

For the past three years since you had been together, you had made his birthday the biggest deal of the year, without fail. Whether it be organising the biggest party he had ever been to, fully comprised of all of the people he loved and cared about on his yacht, to a quiet day in with his family.

This year, he had asked for nothing too over the top, since he just wanted to spend the day with his favourite person in the world. "My love?" he called out again, but he didn't expect a response. The double doors through to the kitchen were closed, which was odd, since you usually left them open.

Opening them, he was greeted with the loud pop of a confetti cannon, and a shower of red confetti. "Happy birthday baby!" You shouted as he walked through the door. Charles gazed around at the balloons stuck to the walls and lying on the floor, and plenty of birthday banners plastered about the room.

"Thank you, my love," he smiled, pulling you into a hug.

Turning out of the hug, you stepped over to the kitchen table, before skipping over to Charles and placing the party hat atop his ruffled locks. "Seriously?" he asked with a cocked brow. "Obviously, the birthday boy has to wear a party hat!" you playfully scoffed, putting one on too.

"Well thank you for all of the effort, sweetheart, I appreciate it," he told you, pulling you in for a kiss. Even if he was certain you enjoyed the thoughts of his birthday more then he did, it was always made a better celebration when you were planning it.

He wasn't looking forward to the fact that he was turning a year older, he was looking forward to the bright smile on your face when you got to show him whatever you had planned. Despite him telling you over and over that you didn't have to put so much effort into it, you always ignored his protests and did it anyway.

He always put effort into making things special for you, so you thought it was only fair that you did the same for him at any given opportunity - even if he didn't allow much room for someone other than you to be spoilt.

You just enjoyed the day that you got to celebrate him, since he was always celebrating you and you were able to make him priority for this one special day.

"Would you like to know what I have planned for today?" You asked, leaving your arms linked around his neck as his stayed on your waist. "Yes I would, I want to hear what you're going to do to try and outdo yourself," he told you.

"Well then you might be a bit disappointed, it's not very flashy" you winced, knowing this year's plan wouldn't be as extravagant as those of previous years. "I don't need it to be flashy, baby. You know we could do nothing and it'd be a great use of time spent," he said.

"So, I have invited Carlos, Arthur, Pierre and Kika over for some drinks and maybe some games, y'know, fun stuff," you explained, hoping he would like the sound of it. "Now that is my kind of night," he smiled, gently kissing your forehead. 

"I'm glad you think so,"

—

"Does anyone want another drink?" You asked, hopping out of your seat and looking around at the group of people sat around you. "Y/N, I can get them, you sit," Carlos offered, but you shook your head.

"I'm already up, but thanks," you dismissed, collecting empty glasses that wanted to be filled. Charles watched intently as you were running around, playing hostess. You were making sure everyone was well taken care of, and he could see you pacing around the kitchen, making sure everyone got the drink they wanted.

He was mesmerised by the way your dress clung to you in all of the perfect places and he was infatuated by the way you moved. You brought through the numerous different drinks that everyone wanted, and Charles noticed that you didn't have one when you sat down.

"Are you not having one, my love?" Charles leant in to ask while the others talked about something that you weren't quite listening to. "No, I've had two, so I'll stop there," you smiled, not wanting to get too drunk.

"Come on, have a bit of fun. It is my birthday, after all," he said, giving you those puppy eyes that were too damn irresistible. "Fine, I'll have one," you caved instantly as a triumphant grin spread on Charles' face. That was the grin that came out when he'd gotten his own way.

You went to stand, but a firm hand on your shoulder pushed you back down into your seat. "Sit, I've got it," he said, standing and disappearing into the kitchen. He was back shortly after, handing you a glass with some sort of clear, bubbling liquid inside of it.

"What is it?" You asked, sniffing it to try and discern what it could be, to no avail.

"Drink it and I'll tell you," he smirked. You took a sip, and you still couldn't quite tell what it was. It was slightly bitter, but the edge was taken off by a hint of sweetness, and it tasted faintly of some sort of berries. "That is very nice, whatever it is," you told him, drinking some more.

Suddenly, that triumphant grin appeared on his face again. "I knew I'd get you to like gin and tonic at some point," he chuckled, winking at you. 

"This isn't like the stuff you've been giving me," you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him.

"It's the one Arthur brought, it's in the kitchen if you want more," he smiled, taking your free hand in his and intertwining your fingers together. "Y/N, have you still got Twister?" Kika tipsily giggled. Her, Carlos and Arthur had been drinking slightly more than you, Charles and Pierre, so they were all rosy cheeked and giggling a lot.

"I sure do," you smiled, going over to the cabinet and producing the colourful box of the beloved game. Kika clapped, and Charles looked downright mortified. He was never a massive fan of the game, but he liked to see you have fun, so he allowed it.

"Ok, so we'll do the Leclercs' vs the rest of us,'' she said, and you were slightly confused.

"Four on two? How is that fair?" You asked with your eyebrows furrowed.

"You're technically a Leclerc, so you play with Charles and Arthur," she smiled, and Carlos and Pierre smirked at Charles. "You might as well be at this point," Charles muttered, smiling at you. Without anymore deliberation, Kika leapt up and set the plastic mat out on the floor.

"Charles, pick your challenger," she said, gesturing towards Pierre and Carlos, who were both reluctant to play - but it was all in good fun. "Carlos, you're one of the least flexible people I know, come on," Charles said, pushing himself off of his chair.

As the round went on, you span the spinner to see what Carlos would be doing next. "Carlos, left foot red," you laughed, looking at the tangled mess that he was in. His arms were crossed, and he somehow had to get his left foot under the entirety of his body to reach the red dot.

"It's not possible!" He complained as he tried to stretch his leg underneath him. As he groaned in discomfort, everyone was just laughing at him. Charles, who was also in a pretty compromising position was laughing too as Carlos' limbs collapsed beneath him and he clattered down to the floor with a thud.

"That was impossible," he huffed as he led on the mat on the floor as Charles stood and stretched his arms and legs out. "Good game, mate," Charles cockily grinned, offering a hand out to Carlos to help him up.

"Yeah, whatever," Carlos chuckled, hoisting himself up with Charles' help.

"So that is 1-0 to team Leclerc, Arthur and Pierre, you're up next," Kika smiled, straightening the mat out for the next round. Pierre and Arthur both groaned, reluctantly standing out of their chairs and standing beside the Twister mat.

Unfortunately for Team Leclerc, Pierre bested Arthur, leaving the game on your's and Kika's shoulders. "Y/N, you and me, let's go," she challenged, kicking her heels off to the side.

"Oh it's getting serious now," Pierre teased as he had to miss the flying heels that were coming in his direction. "I don't like to lose," she smirked, pointing at her boyfriend.

"Neither do I," you countered, leaving your heels beside Charles' chair as you stood to challenge Kika. "It's 1-1, let's see who can come out on top," Arthur said like he was presenting a football match or something. "Wait, so you're telling me we could have just let these two do it and our rounds didn't matter for anything?" Carlos asked.

"Yes," you nodded, and you watched the poor guy's face just drop.

"So I didn't even have to go through the pain and suffering that I went through?" he asked again, and everyone started giggling at him. "Sorry Carlos, the game is the game," Charles laughed, and Carlos looked dejected. "I am never hanging out with you guys again," he scoffed with feigned seriousness.

"Sure you aren't, Carlos," Arthur said, receiving a playful punch on the arm due to his comment. "OK, you two, OK, Y/N, right hand blue," Pierre instructed, flicking the spinner with his finger for Kika's turn.

You had your back to Charles, so you bent over to place your right hand on the blue circle. Your dress only barely covered your ass, and it took every ounce of self-control that he held in his being to not find an excuse to get you into any room in the house and have his way with you.

But, he had to remain a gentleman while your friends were there - even if he was going to find that incredibly hard. Especially when you looked as good as you did. He had to avert his eyes and look anywhere in the room but at you, but he was struggling immensely.

Thankfully for him, or not so much, his sinful thoughts were interrupted by Pierre giving you the instruction to put your left foot also on blue. He had dodged a bullet there, but Twister was most certainly going to send another huge one flying at him.

"Are you kidding me?" you exclaimed a few rounds later, as your left hand was supposed to go on the nearest yellow, which was underneath Kika's back. The problem with this was you were doing a crab over Kika, so you wouldn't be able to balance. "Just give it a go, you'll be fine," Carlos collared, loving seeing you two in a compromising position too.

By some miracle, you managed to balance yourself whilst still hovering over Kika. "So the next one is..." Pierre dragged out as he slowly spun the spinner.

"Pierre, hurry up!" Kika squawked, and you wanted him to hurry up too. Your muscles were aching as you held yourself in place. "OK, so, Kika, left foot green," he said, and all she had to do was stretch her leg out by one circle. "Y/N, right foot blue,"

"If I do this, I will flash you all, so look away," you tipsily laughed. Normally you wouldn't have done it, but there was alcohol running through your veins, so the logical and self-preserving part of your brain wasn't in full working order.

Arthur and Pierre averted their eyes, but Carlos looked for that second too long. "Carlos." Charles scolded as the Spaniard defensively held his hands up. He wasn't being disrespectful, he simply reacted too late.

Charles couldn't take his eyes off you, spread out all pretty for him as he uncomfortably shifted in his seat. His resolve was crumbling, and he was counting down the seconds until everyone left you alone. As soon as that door was closed, his hands were going to be all over you.

"Kika, left hand-" Pierre started, but her limbs too gave in under her. You breathed a sigh of relief as you were able to stand up, and your muscles were aching. "And team Leclerc win!" Arthur exclaimed, raising his arms in celebration.

"That was a tough one," you sighed, high-fiving Kika as she took a seat next to Pierre. There weren't any seats left, since Carlos had sat on the floor before Twister started. "Y/N, sit here, I can move," Arthur offered, noticing how there weren't any seats left.

"No, no, you sit down. I can sit on the floor," you dismissed, walking to Charles' side and attempting to sit down. "Absolutely not," Charles said, grabbing your wrist and tugging you onto his lap. You draped your legs over the side of the chair as your arms comfortably wrapped around his neck.

His hands found their perfect position on your waist as you leant your weight onto him. "My girl doesn't sit on the floor, especially not on my birthday," he whispered into your ear, his breath hot on your skin.

His words sent tingled up your spine, and you had to repress a shiver as you sat with him. "Can we do a round of this?" Kika piped up, snatching the Five Second Rule from the shelf beside her, and everyone audibly groaned.

"Just one round, please?" she asked, and you all caved in and thought it could be fun.

"Charles." You stated, tilting away from him as you looked at the car in your hand.

"Baby." he responded, intently looking at you as he waited for you to read him the prompt. "Name three vegetables!" you told him, turning the 5 second timer upside down as it made that strange noise. "Carrot, pea..." he fumbled, his brain short-circuiting as he couldn't think.

"Carrot!" he exclaimed as the timer ran out. For a second, everyone fell silent, and Charles looked utterly confused. "Carrot pea carrot? Name three vegetables and you say carrot pea carrot?"

"That's three vegetables, isn't it- Oh shit," he said as he realised what he had done. Everyone started chuckling, and you were just flabbergasted. "Carrot and carrot are the same vegetable, Charles. I know you don't cook very often, but I'm sure you have the ability to know that carrot and carrot are the same thing!" you ranted, and everyone was crying of laughter.

"Baby, there's no need to make it personal," Charles chuckled, trying to keep a straight face. "There are so many different vegetables in this world, and you name two of the most basic ones, and one of them twice. You adore pasta, and you have forgotten about the humble tomato. Maybe a pepper?" you carried on, and Carlos was practically rolling on the floor with laughter.

"I'm sorry, my love, I'm sorry," he laughed, kissing you on the cheek. You simply rolled your eyes at him as everyone calm down. "Carrot pea carrot my god," you muttered, and Charles chuckled at you.

As the six of you talked and sipped at the remnants of your drinks, you slowly shifted on Charles' lap to get more comfortable. "That is a dangerous game, baby," he said lowly in your ear. You couldn't help but shift a little more, as his hands braced on your waist to keep you still.

One of Charles' hands steadily moved along the inside of your thigh, his fingertips tracing the skin. He was getting dangerously close to you, as his fingers brushed over the thin lace that was the final barrier between him and you.

"Hey, later," you winked at him and you pushed his hand away. There was no chance you'd be able to keep yourself from being calm and inconspicuous if you let him do what he wanted to do. You wanted it, but you would never be able to live down the embarrassment if anyone caught you.

You all talked for another hour or so, and they all stood up to leave. You hugged everyone and waved them out of the door, and you were glad the night was such a success. You had enjoyed yourself, everyone else had enjoyed themselves, and -most importantly- Charles had enjoyed himself.

Once you had closed the door, you picked some glasses up off the tables and took them over to the sink to wash them. You couldn't be bothered to wash them now, so you just left them in the sink. You were putting away some of the bottles into the cupboards, and Charles appeared in the doorway.

For a moment, he just let himself watch you. He had behaved for the whole night, but now his resolve had fully crumbled and he rushed up to you. "Hey, you-" you started, but were abruptly cut off by him pressing his lips to yours as he lifted you onto the kitchen counter.

The marble was cold on the backs of your thighs, and it sent shivers through your body. "You have been driving me crazy all night, you know that?" he told you between kisses. You could taste the alcohol on his lips as his kisses became more aggressive, more desperate.

"I probably could have guessed that," you smirked against his lips, running your hands across his chest and over his shoulders. His hands slid up your thighs, pushing the skirt of your dress over your thighs and hips.

As your fingers fiddled with the buttons of his shirt, you saw the hunger in his eyes. The pure lust. "Just because it's your birthday, you can do whatever. You. Want," you whispered, and you knew you could have just gotten yourself into something dangerous. 

"Well then that makes this easier," he smirked, his lips ghosting across your neck and down your chest. "I have been wanting to do this for hours, but you just had to go and make things difficult for me, didn't you?" he playfully scolded, gently nipping at the skin on your shoulders.

The white fabric of his shirt was sent fluttering to the floor as you slid it off and over his shoulders. Your hands moved to his belt next, but he effortlessly tugged your wrist away. "Not yet, I want to see you squirm for me first," he said, slithering his hands up the sides of your thighs and to your hips, his fingers hooking into the flimsy slithers of lace that sat there.

He slipped the garment over your thighs and down your legs, discarding them to the floor just like his shirt. Charles looked at you with those big green eyes, keeping them locked on yours as he sunk to his knees in front of you. His eyes still trained on yours, he placed a hand on either knee and spread your legs as he slotted himself in between them.

"God have you been this wet for me all night? I would have sent everyone home earlier if I had known," he smirked, placing soft kisses up the insides of your thighs, nibbling on them every now and then. You shuffled closer to the edge of the counter, hoping he would take the subtle hint.

"So desperate for me, but I'm feeling nice. How could I make my gorgeous girl wait?" He teased, kissing dangerously close to you. You were desperate for it, he had gotten that completely right. You were positively throbbing for it. Without another word, he licked a thick stripe up your dripping folds.

You leant back against the kitchen cabinets, tangling your hands in his hair as he kept your legs split open with his hands. Every now and then, he would attach his lips around your sensitive bundle of nerve endings, just to keep you on edge. His tongue teased your entrance as you tugged on his hair even harder.

You pressed your hips into his face as he smirked against you. "If you wanted more, all you had to do was ask," he told you, sucking and nibbling on your clit as you moaned out in pleasure. It was like sparks of electricity pulsed through you every time he made the slightest movement on you, and it was becoming almost unbearable.

"Fuck, just like that," you mewled, running your hands through his hair again. He kept on licking and lapping at all of the right places, and you felt like a volcano was going to explode inside you. "Shit, baby, I'm-" you started, but you were cut off by him slowing his movements.

"You close, my love?" He mumbled, running his tongue over your clit again. You were so sensitive, moaning with every movement he made. "Mhm," you hummed, not able to form full words without moaning out. Charles knew you were close as he carried on teasing you with his tongue.

Just as you were about to come undone, he pulled his mouth away from you and kissed you on the lips. "You really thought I'd give it to you just like that? You made me wait, now you've gotta wait too, it's only fair," he mocked with a wicked grin plastered on his face.

"Baby," you whined, looking at him with those eyes that told him everything he needed to know. You needed it, and you needed it badly. But, he wanted to hear you say it. "Beg for it, baby. Tell me how much you want me. How much you need me," he instructed, sinking back down to his knees again.

He planted excruciating kisses on the insides of your thighs as he waited. "Please," you whispered, jolting your hips forward, desperate for the extra contact. "I can't hear you," he dismissed, nipping the soft skin of your inner thigh.

"Please, Charles," you groaned, louder this time.

"What are you saying 'please' for? What do you want?" He grinned, adoring the control he had over you right now. "Please, baby, I need to cum," you practically shouted, hoping it was enough for him.

"Oh you need it do you? Do you need me then, my darling?" He teased.

"I need you so bad right now, I'm aching for it baby," you grovelled, and that was like music to Charles' ears as he came closer and closer to you. "That was exactly what I needed to hear,'' he told you, diving straight back into you. His tongue circled your clit perfectly, and the extra pressure you had been so desperate for was being granted.

"Is this good, my love? Is this what you wanted?" He mocked, tasting the neediness on his tongue.

"Fuck, yes," you moaned, tipping your head back. Your breaths were short and shallow as you felt yourself crumbling. "I'm going to-" you began, but Charles pressed your clit that tad bit harder, and you felt a tingling wave of pleasure wash over you as you cried out for him.

He stood back up, aggressively kissing you as you could taste a mix of yourself and alcohol on his tongue. But, the taste of him was far more intoxicating than any alcoholic beverage could ever be. It ran through your veins and made you drunk on pure lust, and it felt better in every conceivable way.

As he kissed you, Charles thought over where he could take you. He didn't want to keep you on the counter, but your bedroom was far too far away for how much he needed you now. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the empty dining room table, and it was the perfect option.

He held his hand on your bare ass as he carried you over to the table and sat you down on it. He slipped the remnants on your dress over your head, leaving you completely exposed to him as your nipples pricked up in the cold. "Fucking hell, you're so goddamn beautiful, baby,"

He stole yours lips with his before you could say a response, and he wasn't in the mood for waiting any longer. You could sense his neediness, slinking your hands down to his belt and unbuckled it. He didn't have any protests as he kept his hands on the sides of your face, holding him there as he kissed you.

You pushed his pants down to his knees, and he couldn't be bothered to kick them off - he didn't need to, anyway. Charles pushed your legs further apart with his knee and stepped impossibly closer to you. "You ready?" he asked, despite the fact that he already knew the answer.

"Yes," you breathed as he gently eased into you, and the feeling of him filling you up was like pure ecstacy. He gave you a second to get acclimatized to the stretch before slowly starting to rock his hips into yours.

The feeling of you wrapped around his cock was unlike anything, and it sent straight euphoria surging through his veins. He touch every inch of your insides as he moved, the tip of his dick hitting that one spot that nobody else seemed to be able to find with every thrust.

You didn't know where to put your hands, so caught up in what he was doing to you. You linked them around the back of his neck, nails digging into his flesh as you came closer and closer to release.

"How the fuck did I get so lucky?" he groaned, hands gripping onto your hips so hard you were certain they'd leave bruises there in the morning. But you didn't care. "My girl is the sweetest in the whole world, and her body is perfect in every single way. It's like you're made for me, baby," he rambled as he picked up his pace.

His head was spinning as he leant in and peppered random kisses all down your neck. He was addicted to the way you made him feel and the way he made you feel.

He could feel your legs start to shake, but your walls were already clenching around him. "You close again, baby?" he spat through gritted teeth, rutting his hips into you harder and harder. "Mhm," you hummed, not able to formulate full words. 

The feeling of you combined with the sweet sounds of you moaning for him sent him over the edge, and you dug your nails into the flesh of his shoulders as you came with him. As you both rode out your highs, letting the tingles slowly fade away, you clung onto him. 

The room fell silent, before Charles broke the quiet with a, "Thank you, my love. You're amazing, and not just at that, of course," he softly chuckled, holding you in his arms for a moment. 

"Happy birthday, baby," you smiled, leaning into his embrace as he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear. "And this has been the happiest of birthdays for me. Yes, I love the yacht parties, but a quiet night in with my favourite people is all I need," he told you. 

You sleepily smiled at him, holding your eyes open as you looked at him. "Are you tired, my love?" he cooed, looking at your half open eyes. Your cheeks were flushed and your hair was all puffy, your lips red and puffy from how much he had kissed you. 

There were small red marks over your neck and shoulders from where he had gently nibbled at the skin as he gently ran his fingers over them. They were just small reminders of who you belonged to, even though there was no doubt in anyone's mind of who that was. 

"Yeah, but we can stay up. Whatever you want," you said, suppressing a yawn. 

"We can go to bed, I need birthday cuddles," he said, hoisting you up into his arms like a bride on her wedding day. "You get cuddles every night, what makes them different because it's your birthday?" you giggled, clinging onto him for dear life. But, you knew he would rather die than drop you. 

"I don't know, they just feel more special when it's on my birthday," he explained, dropping you down onto your bed. He threw a hoodie from his drawer at you, before slipping some sweatpants up his legs. 

Just as Charles hopped into bed beside you, you remembered something. "Shit, how could I forget?" you scolded yourself, scrambling out of bed and into the kitchen. 

"Baby? You alright?" Charles asked, wondering why you had disappeared so quickly. 

"Close your eyes!" you told him as you stood outside the door. Charles did as he was told as you walked into the room, trying not to drop what you were carrying. "Happy birthday to you," you started to sing as Charles opened his eyes. "Happy birthday to you," you continued as you perched on the bed beside him.

"Happy birthday dear Lord Perceval, happy birthday to you," you finished, completely off key. Charles saw the very poorly done Ferrari logo on the top of the cake, the prancing horse appearing to have three legs and his eye was very wonky. In the top corner, you had hand-piped a list of all the races he had won, as well as your favourite podiums of his. 

"Blow out the candles," you told him, moving the cake closer to him. The orange flames on the 2 and the 6 were extinguished as he blew them out, unable to wipe the goofy smile off his face. "When did you make this?" he smiled, taking the cake out of your hands.

"Yesterday when you were out with Arthur," you told him, glad he had noticed that you had made it. "I know it's a bit shit, but I tried,"

"I prefer this to the actual one any day of the week," he said, grabbing his phone and taking a picture of the cake. "It's perfect, thank you baby," he thanked, looking at the cake again. 

"Happy birthday, Charles," you said again, and you both hoped there would be many more to come. 

A/N - Tanti Auguri to the love of my life, and the guy who makes everyday that slight bit easier. Forza Ferrari, and Forza Charles Leclerc 💖

|masterlist|

[futurewdclandonorris]

Lines | George Russell⁶³

Pairings: George Russell x fem!bestfriend!reader

Summary: it's morning after the victory celebration and George and you need to talk about what happened the previous night, except it doesn't really go as planned

Warnings: angst

A/N: 👉👈👀 Now I wish I had that other one shot ready considering George ended up on the podium, but balance baby. The melody of the song might not fit, but the lyrics are 🤌 Also I made a whole damn playlist for this little story

Previous part

The morning after excessive drinking was never a good one. The sun shining through the unclosed curtains only made the head pounding worse, causing you to let out an agonized groan. Your throat and mouth felt parched like walking through a desert and your body seemed to be weighed down, refusing to move when you tried turning over.

You extended one arm and blindly felt around the cold, empty side of the bed that obviously someone had been in last night. You were only barely aware of the night before. You knew you went out to celebrate George's win and had an amazing time, but you were vaguely able to recollect any of it.

There were only flashes of him holding you as you moved on the dance floor and drinks coming and going - the reason why you were in such pain right now. The way you celebrated, someone would think it was you who won. And in all those in-between moments, you couldn't remember meeting anyone and certainly had no memory of bringing them home, but you knew someone should be beside you. And surely George wouldn't just let you-

George. 

Your eyes flew open. 

Oh, no.

You glanced to the left side of your bed, trying to convince yourself that it was just a drunken dream and you slept alone in your bed, but the sheets were crumpled exactly as they should have been if someone had occupied the space. Only faintly, bits and pieces of what happened after were coming back to you now - the feel of George's lips and of his fingertips dancing on your skin.

You propped yourself up on an elbow, blinking away dizziness as you sat up. You held onto the edge of the bed until the room stopped spinning and you found your balance again. Moreover, feeling exposed underneath the sheets was only a confirmation of what you dreaded most.

The only thing that you could take solace in at the moment was that you didn't have to face George and the aftermath of your own doings. Oh, how could you have been so rash? You were the one to initiate everything with your friend, despite begging him not to let anything come between your friendship. All night, you kept making advances towards him and it was due to your constant prodding, teasing and cajoling that George eventually kissed you and ended up in your bed.

You heard an uninvited voice in your head. There were no consequences last night, only two friends who had spent the most perfect evening together doing the things they loved and being with the one person they trusted the most.

But the night hadn't ended there. And it had involved an awful lot of alcohol. 

Oh, god, you couldn't even remember everything that happened.

And that was the thing that scared you even more. 

Then George's deep voice echoed in your head. You could remember every word he said last night, and you could still feel his arms wrapped around you. He'd loved the feel of you. He'd loved watching you. He'd loved how hard you came on his fingers. He'd been so proud of you. 

No, no, no, no, no, no. This is ridiculous. This shouldn't have happened. You ran a hand through your thick, tangled hair when a loud noise coming from outside of your bedroom snapped you out of your thoughts.

You jumped out of the bed, grabbing the first bit of clothing you could find and hastily throwing it on. The sunshine hit you hard from your floor-to-ceiling living room windows, your eyes squinting as you tried to adjust to the brightness. And there he was, moving effortlessly through your kitchen, just in his gray sweatpants and barefoot.

You could observe the definition of his back muscles, how relaxed and tranquil he was. The red marks that ran across his body were only a further confirmation it was true what had happened the previous night. When he spun around to face you, his lips curled into a smile as his eyes scanned you from head to toe.

"Good morning,"

"I thought you left," you blurted out before you could stop yourself, leaning against the doorframe.

His face dropped and he put down the thing he was holding on the counter. For the first time ever it was hard for him to read your face. "The way you said it sounds like you wish I did."

"No, I just..." you tried to find words to explain, but nothing was coming. "That's not it at all."

"I'm making breakfast," he grinned once more, showing off the pan.

"Mhm," you murmured, trying to give him a hint of a smile, but it fell flat.

He didn't seem to notice though as he was busy stirring something in the pan. "I like your outfit by the way," he said casually without even glancing at you.

It was only then that you looked at yourself. You were wearing his shirt from last night. Your hand moved to take it off, but you remembered there was nothing underneath, so instead you pulled the fabric closer to your skin.

"I'll give it back," you muttered, trying to keep your eyes away from him as you felt your cheeks heat up.

"I didn't say it because I wanted you to give it back. You know I let you wear my clothes," you knew he was trying to make things less awkward, but it only made it more difficult for you. This was not supposed to happen between the two of you. You were just friends, best friends, and now there was this added layer of complication that you couldn't ignore.

"That was before… That was different." 

"How is that different?" he turned around, facing you fully.

"It just is!" you snapped.

George raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Whoa, okay. What's going on with you?"

"Nothing," you muttered, looking away from him.

"I'm sorry you had to wake up alone, I wanted to-"

"That's not the problem," you shook your head.

"Then what is?" he finally turned the stove off, looking at you. 

"What are you making?" you forced a smile and walked up to him, the subject changed once again. 

You were a ticking time bomb waiting to explode and he knew that. He wanted to make sure that you were okay, that you didn't regret what happened last night. He knew you better than anyone else and he could see the guilt eating away at you. He had to do something to make you feel better, to make things right. Still, he let you have your way, glancing at you sideways. "Well, it's an omelette with all kinds of vegetables. Even the mushrooms you hate."

"And the tomatoes, right?"

"And the tomatoes." he smiled, nodding.

"Smells amazing," you returned the smile.

"I'm glad you think so. Are you hungry?"

"I'm sick, honestly." you grimaced.

"Here, drink this, it should help you with your hangover until I wrap this up." he said, indicating the pan.

"Is this one of your trainer's smoothie recipes?" you asked, eyeing the glass filled with green liquid suspiciously.

He laughed, then nodded. "Guilty. But it does the job, trust me. I already had one."

You took a small sip, noting the disgusting taste. 

"Bleh," you tried to shove it in your mouth as fast as possible and moved the glass away from your lips. You shivered, shuddering at the aftertaste.

"I told you." George laughed, taking it from you. "It's not that bad."

"I hate you." you muttered.

He sighed, somehow not doubting your words, presenting you a plate with the omelette and the cooked vegetables on it. He then poured out a glass of water for you. "Eat up, you'll feel better."

You shot a glare at him, but grabbed your fork and started eating anyway. He stepped away for a brief moment to search for and put on a shirt. And that irked you even more. How could he be so calm, so collected, so... normal after what happened between the two of you last night? You couldn't even look at him without feeling a sense of shame washing over you.

The more you stayed quiet, the more apprehensive you were about what had happened the night before. You didn't know the consequences that may arise from your actions and it could have caused irreparable damage, even though nothing seemed to be amiss. The stress was steadily building inside of you as you desperately tried to keep yourself from starting an argument, but eventually you couldn't contain it any longer.

The guilt that had been weighing down on your heart since you woke up was only getting heavier. How could he act like nothing was out of the ordinary? Like nothing had happened between you two? How could he not bring it up?

"I can't do this." and there it was.

"Do what?" he said with a frown.

God, this was not a conversation you wanted to have first thing in the morning.

"Pretend." you crossed your arms. "Acting like what happened last night didn't happen."

George's face fell, but he didn't look away from you. "I'm not pretending, y/n." he took a deep breath, his eyes locked onto yours. “I just thought that maybe we could talk about it later."

"Later? George, this is important. We can't just pretend like it didn't happen.”

"I know it is," he was still frowning.

"Last night, I- I don't know what came over me. I mean, I got drunk, you know that I wouldn't do something like that otherwise."

“I know,” he repeated.

"Well, I think I wouldn't, anyway," you tried to laugh, but it only came out as a nervous cough. "Because right now I can't remember a single thing that happened after the club."

"I brought you home." George replied, avoiding eye contact.

"Can you stop doing that?" you were getting annoyed after each second that passed.

"What?" he responded, still not meeting your gaze.

"Avoiding addressing the problem. Like nothing changed between us!"

"I'm not." he gritted.

"Oh, please!" you rolled your eyes, "Can we not do this right now?"

"Do what?!"

"This! Act like nothing happened between us and nothing changed. We can't just sweep it under the rug. We are both adults, you can act like one."

“Nothing has changed.” George finally looked up at you, his eyes penetrating yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "What do you want me to say, y/n? That I regret last night? That I wish it never happened?" he shook his head. "I can't say that because it wouldn't be true."

"We crossed the line!" you shouted.

"What line?! The line was already blurred after the thing that happened in my driver's room. Last night it was barely existent!"

You flinched at his words, the reminder of your previous encounters with George sending shivers down your spine. "I shouldn't have ever let you touch me." you whispered.

"God, if I knew it would be like this I never would have offered."

"So why did you?" you snapped.

"Because I wanted to." he clapped back.

The tension between you both was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel like your friendship was hurtling towards its breaking point. You couldn't understand why he was so calm about everything, why he wasn't feeling the same way as you. It was almost as if he didn't care about the fact that you had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed.

"You wanted to?" you repeated, feeling the anger inside you bubbling up. "Is that all it takes for you to just throw away our friendship like it's nothing?"

"It's not like that," he said, his voice calm despite the way you were shouting at him. "I care about you, y/n. You know that."

"We shouldn’t have let things go this far…" you whispered.

"Well, yeah, it's all should've, would've, could've now, isn't it?" George's voice was hard and bitter. He pushed himself away from the counter, balling his fists at his sides.

"How can you be so calm about it? Does it not mean anything to you? Do you even care?!"

George ran his hands through his hair, frustration etched onto his face. "No, I'm just trying to understand why you're so upset about it."

"Why am I so upset?! We had sex, for god's sake, George!"

George stood up from his seat and walked towards you, his face just inches away from yours, his breath hot on your skin. "And it was amazing," he said. "Don't pretend like you didn't enjoy it just as much as I did. Do you remember what you were saying to me last night? Huh? Do you?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to push down the memory of your slurred words. "That doesn't matter," you said, trying to push away from him. "That's not even the point! We can't just pretend like it never happened and go back to being friends like nothing changed."

"What, you don't want to admit that you wanted me just as much as I wanted you?" he chuckled, his eyes never leaving your face. "And I asked you, time and time again, are you sure, do you want this," he raised his voice, "and you said yes every time. Don't backtrack now just because it's convenient for you. Don't even try to deny it."

"I was drunk!" you yelled back, your heart pounding in your chest. "What did I know? You should've known better than to..." you trailed off, not really wanting to believe it.

"Than to what?" George interrupted, his eyes blazing with anger. "To trust you? To believe that you knew what you were doing?"

"You knew I was vulnerable!" you shot back, tears streaming down your face. 

"Vulnerable of what?!" he bellowed, his fists clenched at his sides. "You were the one who came on to me, who kissed me, who begged me to take you."

"You could have said no!" you cried, feeling the weight of the accusation heavy on your shoulders. "You should've said no..."

"Why should I have said no?" he shouted. "I wanted you! I still want you! God, I wanted you for years. I'd be willing to risk anything just to show how much I cared, but because the friendship meant so much to us both, I was afraid that if I confessed my feelings, I would end up losing you completely. And being your friend was infinitely better than not having you at all."

His words hit you like a splash of cold water, dousing you from head to toe. His face was twisted from anger and hurt, but there was no denying the truth in his words. And you were afraid of losing him too, otherwise you wouldn't even be acting this way. He was your best friend, or at least you thought he was. You had been friends for so long, you couldn't even remember when you two became friends. You were so close, so comfortable with each other, so much so that it became a part of your identity. That was why the transition from two to one had been so abrupt.

"I’m sorry I fell in love with you, okay? But it happened and I can’t do shit about it.”

“You… What?” your voice was barely above a whisper as you stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. You had never expected him to say something like that, not in a million years. It was as if a dam had burst inside of you, all the emotions you had been holding back crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You stepped back, trying to make sense of what he just said. "You love me?" you repeated, feeling your heart skip a beat.

George nodded, his eyes searching yours. "I'm sorry, this isn't how I planned to tell you. I don't know if I ever did. And maybe you’re right, maybe I should have taken better care of you last night and waited until we were both sober do to something, but I couldn't hold myself back any longer, I've been in love with you for so long-"

"No. Don't. Shut up." you raised a finger to stop him from talking further. "You can't say things like that."

"Why not?" he stepped closer to you, his hands reaching for yours, but you stumbled away from him, towards the window.

"Shut up, George. Just- shut up." you placed your hands on your temples hoping to block everything out.

The room spun and you felt like you were going to throw up. You couldn't believe what was happening. You had never thought of him in that way, not once. He was your best friend, your confidant, your everything, but not your lover. How could he be?

You turned away from him, your back pressed against the cold window. You felt trapped, cornered, and scared. You didn't know how to feel, what to do, or what to say. You were lost in a sea of conflicting emotions, and you didn't know how to swim.

"Don't you love me?" he asked, his voice still soft, his eyes clouded with worry.

"No." as soon as the words flew out of your mouth you wanted to retract them. "Yes. No, not like that." you couldn't handle it anymore. You were breaking apart inside and you were afraid that if you stayed here that you would shatter completely. "You can't be in love with me."

“You think I wanted this to happen? You think I, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you?” George's voice was laced with pain and frustration.

"You have to stop."

"Stop what? Loving you? You think I can just turn my feelings off like a switch? But if you're so wise tell me how I’m supposed to un-love you, then. Tell me. Spare me." the emotion in his voice was like a thunderbolt.

And then you saw them, the tears in his eyes begging for you to stop pushing him away. And you saw the pain, the pleading hurt in his eyes. And you felt your heart breaking.

Oh, god. You were hurting him.

You hesitated, but your feet started moving before your mind had a chance to catch up with your body. Before you realized it, you were standing in front of him, your hand reaching up to touch his cheek. His hand instantly grabbed yours.

"I tried, you know? It's not that easy." he sobbed. "It’s not that easy to just let go of someone you’ve held onto for so fucking long. I wish I wasn’t in love with you, now that I see what it's doing to you. To us."

"I think we need to spend some time apart." you said.

George's grip on your hand tightened, and he looked at you with a mixture of fear and desperation. "How can you be like this?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you were about to say. "I just need some space, George. This is all too overwhelming for me right now. I need to figure things out for myself."

George's eyes widened in shock. "You can't walk away from me like this. We can do it together, we can-"

"No, I'm not walking away from you," you said softly, trying to keep your voice calm. "I just need some time to think. We both do. On our own."

"Time apart won't solve a thing." he said, his voice pleading.

"There's nothing left to say." you sighed.

He almost laughed. "I just confessed my love to you and it's all too much? You have nothing left to say? Huh?"

You closed your eyes, trying to focus on your breathing. How could you explain to him that your heart was so full of conflicting emotions that you couldn't even speak? You loved him, there was no denying that. But you were scared, scared of losing him as a friend, scared of losing yourself in him. You needed some time to figure out what you wanted, what you needed, and for the first time, you couldn't do that with him around. Not right now.

"I need to do what's best for me right now. I hope you can understand that." you took a step back, your hand slipping from his.

George's eyes followed your hand as it slipped away from his. His heart ached at the thought of losing you, and for a moment, he considered grabbing your hand and pulling you back into his arms. But he knew he couldn't do that. He had to respect your wishes, even if it hurt like hell.

"What's best for you, huh? I guess I don't have a choice then, do I?" he said, walking backwards away from you.

"George-" you started, but he already disappeared in your bedroom.

When he emerged back, he was wearing one of his sweaters that you borrowed a long time ago and never returned. He put on his jacket and shoes without even looking at you. You knew he was hurt, but you also knew that you couldn't just give in to him. You needed to take care of yourself first. As he walked towards the door in silence, you knew that he was leaving, maybe for good. You wanted to run after him, to tell him that you loved him too, but you stayed rooted to the spot, knowing that it was the right thing to do.

The second he left, you fell into the cushions of the couch, your hands clutching your face. You had crushed his heart and yours in the same instant. You needed space to collect your thoughts and decide what the future held for George and yourself - if a future existed at all between you two.

Next part

[luveline]

i love the idea of Eddie in the zombie au!!!! i think you've mentioned the reader being rougher/tougher in this one and maybe they meet already in the campus or sometime on the road but r has been on their own for a while and Eddie is like the first person they can rely on in some time??

thank you for your request!! i apologise I wrote this as fem!reader before I realised you said ‘they’ later on, so if that isn’t okay with you please let me know/ send another request! <3

Eddie's trying not to stare at you, but he finds you attractive in the awe-striking way. You're ignoring his staring, crouched down by the crate beside him, counting cans under your breath. 

"Seventy two," you say. "How many did you say we needed to eat every day, Eds?"

You really shouldn't call him Eds. You're giving him a you-shaped complex, what with your nice smile (though he doesn't get to see it all the time) and your quite frankly distracting muscles. You're tougher than Eddie by far. He can't believe he had to end up in the middle of the apocalypse to find his dream girl, but here you are. 

"Eddie," you say, nudging him. "What was the math?" 

"Well, calorific intake wise, uh… it's twenty five hundred for men and twenty for women, but that didn't feel fair. It depends on what's in the cans–" 

"You said all this already," you say, "could I get the short answer?" 

"Like, three if we want to stay healthy-ish. Three each, so six a day." 

"Awesome. Twelve days, then." 

"But I think we should eat two. You know, insurance until we can go back for that second crate." 

You sit down on your ass heavily. "Okay, awesome. When are we going back? Tonight?" 

"You have a sprained wrist." 

You roll it in his face. "This old thing? She's fine." 

"It's not fine. Your wrist was the size of a coconut three days ago."

"Eddie, you treat me like a baby," you say. 

You stretch out onto his sheets and his twin mattress on the floor, which is great, he can't wait for the agony of being able to smell you tonight on his pillow, he really can't. You've taken your shoes off for once, three pairs of socks to your calves over your jeans like a weirdo and two t-shirts worn as though that's a regular thing to do. You haven't once needed Eddie's help since he found you, nor has he really needed yours, but you've looked out for him without complaint, sharing your food, letting him follow you from place to place. 

He thinks, despite your tougher persona, that you quite like the company. You like him, which is brilliant, because Eddie's lowkey planning your wedding in his head. Something classy, barefoot on the beach maybe, he won't wear a suit (when would he ever) and you probably wouldn't want to wear a white dress, but he's sure there's something you'd like. 

"You have your head in the clouds again," you say. 

"No," he denies. 

He lays back on your mattress and tries to move aside your dirty t-shirt without chasing a fuss. You're not shy about privacy, as in, you don't want any. Obviously you don't force him to bear all nor do you force him to see anything he doesn't want to see, but it's been a shock sometimes to turn around and find you've taken off your shirt to lounge in your bra. The summer heat is disgusting, layer thick and suffocating as insulation no matter how many windows you risk opening in the house above. 

"Don't be mean, tell me what you're thinking about," you say. 

Where to start? Your tight biceps, your theoretical wedding, or your shirtlessness? 

"I was thinking we shouldn't bother going back tonight for the second crate. We need to sleep. I need to feel like a normal person." 

"You're far from normal." 

"Says you." 

"If I were a boy," you say, "you wouldn't think anything about it. I'd be super normal." 

"It's not about being a girl," he says, grabbing one of your pillows to throw at you. You grab it quickly and throw it straight back. 

"What is it about, jerk?" you ask. 

"I don't care if you're a girl, I care that you're, like, the bravest person I've ever met." 

"Now I feel bad for chucking a pillow at you." 

"You're really cool. So, can we please go to bed early?" 

"Oh, right. Yeah, swap with me. Sorry if I made your bed smell bad. Tomorrow we need to find some more soap." 

"You don't smell bad," he says. "You know I usually tell you." 

It's not fun or pleasant to run out of deodorant these days. You must keep a small pharmacy in your bag, but soap is on rations. 

"You do tell me. Eddie…" You sit up. "I really don't smell bad?" 

"Not today." 

"I can give you a hug, then?" you ask. 

"Sorry?" 

"Eddie. I've met lots of people since the end of the world," —you sit up on knees, your hands outstretched gently, fingers apart— "like, so many people, but you're the only person I ever stayed with, because you're good, and you're nice. I trust you to take care of me, and I really want to give you a hug." 

"I don't think you need taking care of," he mumbles. 

You shuffle toward him where he hikes on elbows. Without shame, you wrap your arms around him and hug him close. "But if I needed you to, you would… Right?" 

"Right," he says. He starts carefully but his body must realise someone's close, someone who wants to be held, and suddenly he's hugging you tightly, his back straining in the position. He holds you far longer than he should, worried you'll pull away and see his blushing face. "Of course I would. You're the last person I'd imagine needing looking after, but yeah, I'd do it. I'd love to do it."

"Well," you say quietly, adjusting your cheek against his, "what are we going to do about my wrist?" 

"It's hurting, isn't it? I fucking knew it." 

You lean back onto your haunches, laughing. "Like a bitch. Not when you were squeezing it." 

"You need pressure. I'll wrap a bandage around it. You'll be fine in a day or two." 

You stand up in search of the first aid kit no doubt. Eddie smiles like a loon while your back is turned, flustered by your warm hug and soft touches. It was better than he's pictured. He wonders when you'll hug him again. 

"Eddie? I'm really sorry, but you smell bad." 

"Yikes," he says. Kill me now, he thinks. "Thanks for your honesty." 

You laugh. "Welcome." 

[talkfantasytome]

Glasses

A teeny, tiny drabble so that I could participate and do something for @nestaarcheronweek despite my crazy, hectic life. I've always imagined that Nesta wears glasses for work or reading or something, and that it drives Cassian absolutely nuts. I wish I had more time to make this more, maybe some day, but for now, I give you Cassian appreciating Nesta in glasses. 💕

Am I still good to swing by to bring your key back?

Yep! Working from home and have no more meetings today. Come by whenever you want, no need to knock.

Cassian smiled at the words flashing across his screen as he reached the windowed door that revealed the doors to the two apartments in Nesta's converted townhouse. Nesta had already told him twice that he could come by any time after noon today, but he let his nerves get the better of him and he had to check just one last time. Even if he was already on her street.

"How are you already here?" the silky sharp voice of his girlfriend asked, carrying easily down the stairs as he opened the door to her apartment.

Cassian chuckled, closing the door and locking it behind him. "Couldn't get to you fast enough, sweetheart," he called up as he began to climb. It was a steep staircase. And dark. He hated it. Nesta could really hurt herself on it, and that was something he wouldn't be able to handle. Cassian dreaded the day he got a call telling him she'd fallen down these damn stairs.

Reaching the main floor, he set the keys down on the tall table in front of him just as a large, cream furball let out a loud hiss.

"Even after feeding you for a week, you still hate me?" he muttered, bending down to see if Ataraxia would sniff at his fingers. The furry little beast lifted his nose up and sauntered away from Cassian like a little prince. "Your cat is a spoiled brat," he said, walking down the small hall toward where he knew Nesta would be working in her large living room.

"As he should be," she replied.

Cassian walked into the room and suddenly the world felt lighter as he laid his eyes on his girlfriend for the first time in a week. Staring intently at the computer screens in front of her, all he could really see was her delicate frame and the golden brown hair tied back in her typical coronet style.

He took a step toward her, going to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, and then paused in his tracks as Nesta turned in her chair to look at him.

There, resting on top of her perfect nose, was a pair of rounded-square glasses in a dark frame. They weren't exactly hipster glasses - too small for that - but they were a similar shape that sat perfectly in Nesta's face.

Nesta was always the most beautiful woman in the room, always sharp and stunning and obviously intelligent. So Casssian wasn't sure exactly what it was about these glasses, but they took his breath away. Perhaps he was more attracted to librarians than he realized. Or maybe it was just Nesta, looking absolutely stunning in everything, and adding new fantasies about glasses Cassian never thought he'd desire.

"Wh…what are those?" he asked like an idiot, pointing to her face.

Nesta let out a small laugh. "My glasses? I wear them for work. They're just blue-light lenses, they keep me from getting a headache when staring at a screen for a long time."

"They're-"

"A necessary nuisance."

"-phenomenal." Nesta blushed at Cassian's last word, turning back to the computer screen.

Cassian wanted to riot, just as he always did when Nesta looked away from him. It should be illegal, for him not to be able to look upon her face. But especially now. Who knew wen he'd get to see her in glasses again? He needed to find a way to save himself from this withdrawal, and he knew just the thing. "Don't you get a lunch hour?" he asked softly, stepping closer to Nesta and leaning his chin on her shoulder.

"Yes…" she answered slowly, turning her face to look at him.

He grinned. "Great. So why don't you log off but keep those glasses on and join me in the bedroom?"

Before Nesta could answer, Cassian left a kiss on her neck and sauntered to the back of the apartment, smirking as her heard soft footsteps following him.

If you'd like to be added to my taglist, let me know!

@live-the-fangirl-life @generalnesta @secretlovelybeauty @julemmaes @boredserpent @autumnbabylon @moodymelanist @sv0430 @nesquik-arccheron @gwynrielsupremacy @katekatpattywack @moonstoneriver77 @swankii-art-teacher @lemonade-coolattas @emily-gsh @my-fan-side @champanheandluxxury @imsointobooks @sayosdreams @simpingfornestaarcheron @perseusannabeth @shinya-hiiragi @a-court-of-milkandhoney @pintas3107 @embersofwildfire @superspiritfestival @thewayshedreamed @lunabean @xstarlightsupremex @mis-lil-red @wannawriteyouabook @dealfea @bridgertononmymind @daydreamer-anst @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @hiimheresworld @c-e-d-dreamer @kale-theteaqueen @charming-butt-insane @charliespringsleftconverse

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Kinktober Day 28: Dry Humping

Pairings: Kazutora x male reader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom!reader, sub!Kazutora, clothed humping/grinding, praise, public play, exhibitionism

Prompt List by: starsandskies 🧡

The train screeched to a halt, stopping right in front of you before its doors slid open to allow another wave of passengers inside. You and Kazutora swiftly stepped off of the platform and boarded, your hands intertwined the entire time so that you wouldn't get separated amongst the large crowd in the station

There were always far too many people during rush hours. Whether you were traveling to work in the morning or catching the last ride home, you always ended up surrounded by countless others on their own commutes. Even on the weekends you couldn't catch a break. Even on a day such as today, the trains were filled up to their limits with people. The two of you were packed like sardines along with the rest of them, pushed up against the window while you traveled to your destination

“Well, at least we got the window seat, eh?” You tried to make light of your situation with your boyfriend, giving him a sheepish smile. While you were a little uncomfortable due to the confined space, the view outside was pretty nice. The city was currently preparing for an autumn festival, so not only did you have the beauty of the trees changing colour, you also had gorgeous decorations on every street and all over the local park

“Mhm. It's so pretty this time of year.” Kazutora stared out the window as he eyed all of the festivities that you would get to partake in soon enough. Already daydreaming about your upcoming date

“Mm, not as pretty as you though.” You said almost under your breath. Kazutora turned towards you with a light blush dusting his cheeks, realizing that you were staring at him rather than the view outside. You leaned over a bit to rest your head on top of his, kissing the crown and nuzzling his hair playfully. Giving his hand a little squeeze while he leaned into your touch, the two of you simply enjoying the ride even if it was a bit bumpy

This peace was soon interrupted by another stop, allowing just a few more people on the train. Just enough so that you had to move behind Kazutora to allow space for the others, pressing him up against the glass completely. “Agh- S-sorry, Tora...you good?” Concern laced into your tone as you tried to push back against the crowd so that you weren't crushing your poor boyfriend...

“F-fine...ow...” He winced with hands bracing himself against the window. In this new position, his ass was pressed against your groin and every bump of the ride caused him to rub against you. This caused you to grow aroused pretty quickly, especially with your arms caging him in dominantly. You bit your lip and leaned down to whisper in his ear, “Hey...can you feel that?”

Kazutora whined at your question, very much able to feel your hard-on pressing up against his ass. “Yes...” The little bit of friction from every small movement built up his own arousal, deepening the blush on his face and nearly causing him to moan with a particular thrust. He had to clamp a hand over his own mouth to prevent any indecent noises from alerting the other passengers to your...ahem... predicament

A deep groan right into his ear made his eyes squeeze shut as Kazutora felt his dick twitch in his pants, involuntarily grinding back on your own member currently poking him. Though it was crowded as all hell, this was the perfect position for you to do anything. Both of you were facing away from the crowd so that your expressions would be hidden and your noises were pointed away from them. You had just enough room to grind against your boyfriend without obviously hitting anyone else around, and you wouldn't even have to move that much with all of the bumps and rattling from the train. If you really wanted to, you could so easily hump Kazutora and maybe even rub him through his pants without getting caught

So that was exactly what your plan was. Starting out by moving one hand down to his hip and pulling him back while your own hips pushed forward. The action elicited a drawn out whine from the poor man, and earning another one once you began thrusting roughly. “Shhh, don't let them hear you, love. ” You breathed down Kazutora's neck, pressing a wet kiss to the flushed skin while your cock throbbed against him, causing a growl to escape from your throat

With shaky breath, Kazutora tried to protest, “W-wait y/n... we'll get caught–” A thumb rubbing against his bottom lip shut him up rather quickly, as did another kiss to his neck. His eyes fluttered closed from your wordless persuasion as a wave of want washed over him. Kazutora glanced to either side before taking a deep breath, grinding back against you to match your movements and bring you both more pleasure

A satisfied grin spread across your face while you watched Kazutora's hands ball into fists against the glass, probably biting his lower lip as more moans threatened to escape. His pretty hips jerked forward when he felt your hand slide down the front of his pants, palming him through the fabric as he humped your hand desperately. “You know...if the train stops again, all of the people at the station would see you like this– ” You teased, sucking little hickeys onto his exposed skin. “The people would see your fucked out face while I stroke you...while I hump you and make you cum in front of them. ”

Pure embarrassment washed over Kazutora's features as you continued teasing him, thrusting against him sharply to punctuate your words. His mouth fell open as his climax approached, panting and throwing his head back against your chest. Misty golden eyes blinked up at you as he stuttered out, “G-going to....c-cum...please- ”

Chuckling at how cute Kazutora looked right now, you rubbed his dick faster and humped his ass harder until his body stiffened against yours. Swiftly clamping one hand over his mouth before his lewd moans could draw any attention to either of you, your other hand snaking up to his waist while his body convulsed. His nails nearly broke the skin on your arms from how hard he dug into them, his orgasm hitting hard enough for his eyes to roll all the way back

“Shhh, good boy. Ride it out, deep breaths.” You soothed, uncovering his mouth to card your fingers through his hair and smoothing out his ponytail before anyone noticed how messy it looked. Kazutora giggled when you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, still catching his breath after such an intense orgasm. He stayed in this position until the train pulled into the next station, smiling while you held him close and whispered an ‘I love you’

Tagging: @steadybreadbluebird @6kabuki

[aurumacadicus]

92 or 14 maybe? 🤔

Going with 14!

--

Prince Anthony was picking his feathers out again.

Steve wordlessly set his shield aside and walked over to grab his hands, yanking them down, away from his wings. "Your highness--"

"I know!" Prince Anthony exclaimed defensively. His wrists jerked in Steve's grip, though, back toward his wings, and he wilted under Steve's stern glare. "I know," he repeated miserably.

It broke Steve's heart, but he turned to grab the picking glove, and while Prince Anthony obediently stuck his hands in so the mouth could be cinched tight around his wrists, he couldn't help but think it wasn't fair. Maybe Prince Anthony wouldn't be picking himself bald if he didn't have to choose a suitor in the next three days.

Prince Anthony had always been put off by the cock parties, as he'd called them--"cockerel balls" had always seemed to lend a layer of refinement to them that they didn't deserve, he'd said. Mostly, it was young cocks approaching and trying to impress prospective hens, and as Prince Anthony had a sizeable fortune behind him, he'd been the one most flocked to. It had made him suspicious, nervous even, of anyone's attention. Steve had watched, heart sinking with every ball, as grabby kids who barely knew what to do with a cloaca fawned all over Prince Anthony for the chance at his wing in matrimony.

It had given him nothing but a dim view on mating parties and cocks in general, which was probably why he'd gotten away with his secret for so long. He was so visibly disgusted after each cockerel ball that everyone assumed even if he was pregnant, he'd get rid of it as quickly as possible. Only when the rumors about his sudden cravings for sardines and almonds got loud enough to reach the royal court did it become necessary for Prince Anthony to undergo medical examination. And, well, when it was found to be true, that a royal hatchling was on the way, an unwed, pregnant royal was deemed a hazard to... what was it they had said? Public decency and the dignity of the crown?

Either way, it meant that another cockerel ball had been set up as quickly as possible, and Prince Anthony no longer had the choice of saying no to all comers if he wanted to keep his financial backing, even if he plucked himself bare in the meantime.

Steve watched Prince Anthony begin to pace, feeling helpless. His prince was in trouble, and he could do nothing of import to stop it. Prince Anthony looked like a caged animal as he walked up and down the carpet. He wasn't even showing yet. Was the palace hoping to get him wed immediately and lie about the hatchling being early? Someone would be bound to talk. That's what had started this mess, after all.

"I suppose," Prince Anthony began, voice halting and pained as he turned to pace in front of the window, obviously hoping the sun's rays would help him feel better. "That Lady Pepper is. Nice enough. Could pass the egg off as hers if we married."

"I suppose," Steve agreed, hoping he sounded noncommittal instead of just bitter.

"Or. Or that kind--Bruce? I think?"

"The alchemist Bruce was very kind," Steve answered with a nod.

"Or I could... I could just..." Prince Anthony stopped in front of the window, staring outside. Then, as quickly as he stopped, he turned around, eyes wide and beseeching. "Run away with me."

Steve's mouth dropped open in shock. He blinked at Prince Anthony slowly, unable to comprehend what he'd just been asked. Prince Anthony was a well-loved public figure, and while Steve was famous for his work in the war, he'd never been... someone people wanted to see running the country. In fact, if anyone ever found out that he was the one who had henned the heir apparent, he likely wouldn't be able to see him again. Prince Anthony was royalty. Steve had clawed his way up from the streets. He was only Prince Anthony's personal guard because there had been several attempts on his life, and Steve was the best at what he did.

"Run... away...?" Steve finally repeated, still not quite believing it.

"I'm just a figurehead for this stupid country," Tony spat, hope giving way to anger. "They only kept royalty on as a tradition they didn't know how to quit, as a show. I don't have any real power. And that's how they can bully me into getting married, picking a cock I don't even like all that much to be the legitimate father of my egg--So. So let's run away."

There were many reasons why Steve should say no. The country loved Prince Anthony, for one--he was only behind his late mother in terms of charity, and was quickly gaining on her record; despite the fact that he had no real power, he always did his best to influence parliament to vote in favor of the people; and the whole country had collectively swooned when a tabloid had leaked a picture of him holding a baby at the hospital with the quote 'babies need to be held' splashed under it. Steve was a nobody, come up from nothing, and most people did not have good things to say about him coming up from nothing because of the war.

Prince Anthony's gaze was steady, though, when Steve met his eyes. He was certain of his decision. That was one of the things Steve liked about him--he knew what he wanted, and if he could get it, he eagerly went through with it. And if he couldn't get it, he was a gracious loser.

"Your highness," Steve began with a sigh.

"I don't care if we're poor," Prince Anthony continued before he could voice his dissent, the determination in his voice making Steve's mouth snap shut in surprise. "You'll take care of us. And I--I have an education. I can get a job to help. You helped make this egg," he added sharply. "Are you refusing to take responsibility? And could you really just let someone else raise your chick?"

If he told himself it was for the better, to make sure the chick got everything it needed or wanted, he probably could. Prince Anthony would love it enough for the both of them, even if his new spouse only tolerated the chick. It wasn't ideal, but then, neither was getting Tony laden with egg before marriage. A marriage that couldn't happen because of who he was and who Prince Anthony had turned out to be. Steve opened his mouth to tell him in no uncertain terms that he would not be taking the spot from a more deserving rooster.

But he didn't want to. And Tony was clearly showing he didn't want to either. So he looked up at Tony and nodded sharply. "Alright, Tony."

"Tony," he repeated in a whisper, shocked. Steve only ever called him that in bed; he needed the separation of work and intimacy, and it helped to remind Tony, too, that he couldn't reach out and touch whenever he wanted. Steve watched as Tony's mouth spread into a wide smile as he lunged toward him, hooking his bound hands behind Steve's neck and pulling him down for an overjoyed kiss just bordering on desperation. Apparently, eschewing his proper name was all the real confirmation he needed of Steve's feelings.

Steve threw his wings up in a mating display just to make sure there was no misunderstanding.

[creedslove]

WE CAN'T 💔 - DRABBLE

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: you go on a stakeout with Javier and Murphy and that helps you change your mind about Javi

(this is just a drabble ❤️)

Warnings: angst hehehe

A/N: I decided to write this drabble because I'm crazy and I feel jealous of Javi 😳

1k words

Shifting uncomfortably in the backseat, you looked out the window, bored to death as you had to hear all kinds of jokes and teasing from Steve, while Javier elbowed him silently every five minutes, sort of pretending you weren't there, hoping you wouldn't get what the jokes were about. You didn't even want to come in the first place, stakeouts weren't part of your job and they could only go two ways: slow and boring, or violent and dangerous. You shouldn't have even been there, but Steve and Javi had insisted on it so you'd get more field experience as they said.

Perhaps you would've agreed if the stakeout actually had a purpose, if you were waiting for something meaningful to happen, something that could actually add up to the case and helped you all catch Escobar. However, waiting outside a whorehouse for a guy named McPickle to finish fucking some hooker was the kind of experience you didn't actually see it as enriching for you.

It was hot, sunny, you were thirsty and sweating, and it bothered you each time Murphy joked about that being Peña's favorite brothel in the city, or how Javier immediately cleared his throat and tried to convince the two of you that a friend of his had told him about that place. It was just embarrassing and awkward for the three of us, when it was obviously a lie, Javier had been to that place more times he'd been to work probably, and that fact made your guts churned; it wasn't like you tried to be dramatic but it sort of felt like you'd been stabbed through the heart; it just bothered you and made you feel uncomfortable, you didn't like to think of Javier with any other woman at all, it was dumb and territorial but if he had asked you on a date, you really didn't want to sit around and listen to his review of best prostitutes around.

He didn't dare looking back at you, so he definitely missed the moment you rolled your eyes or how you scoffed, crossing your arms and watched out of the window as the door opened and a couple of women with lingerie walked a guy outside.

"That's freckles…" Javi bluntly said right before exiting the vehicle with Murphy.

While Steve walked towards McPickle and shook his head, Javi took a slower step and placed his hand on his waist. You couldn't actually hear what they were saying to the man, their conversation wasn't loud, but you were able to see and hear it pretty well when Javi raised his hand and greeted the prostitute

"¡Hola, Vanessa!"

And of course she smiled big and giggled, blowing him a kiss. Who wouldn't act like that when Javier Peña threw his charms?

You made room for McPickle, who smirked at you, but you just groaned showing the disgust in your face as Murphy got behind the wheel and drove off.

•••

You sighed the moment you heard the knock on your door, knowing exactly who it was and fighting yourself the urge of ignoring it, it would probably be easier that way, but you couldn't just do that, you knew you had to give an explanation.

Getting up from the couch, you walked the door, opening it and finding Javier standing there, he had his leather jacket on, over one of his colorful shirts. He leaned on his arm at your door and smirked, looking Jo and down at you.

"Hey cariño, are you ready for our date?" Though he enjoyed seeing your body in your stay-in short clothes, he could tell you weren't ready to go out just yet

"Did I get here too early? I can wait for you to doll up for me" he winked but you shook your head

"I'm sorry Javi, but I can't go on a date with you, I really am… but I just can't"

"Why?"

"It was the stakeout… I mean, we were in front of one of your favorite whorehouses, which means you've been to more than one multiple times, you recognized the hooker and not only that, you know her real name… I'm so sorry Peña, but that changed my view on you" you sighed sadly

"What? Are you fucking serious? Don't act like you didn't know it-"

"Javi, I knew it, of course, everyone in Colombia knows you like prostitutes, but seeing is different from only hearing it, it is a lot worse… You know, if we went out today what would happen? We'd have dinner, a couple of drinks, we'd go back to your apartment, you'd fuck me on the couch or in bed, the same place you've fucked all of them and then the next day I'd go back to being nothing more than a co-worker. This is not who I am, Javier, I want more, I deserve something more than being your escort for the night, and you don't do relationships, I can't change for you, and you can't change for me"

You explained to him your reasons as he stared at you with an indecipherable expression. His deep brown eyes gazed up and down one last time before sighing and clenching his jaw. He seemed to let all your words sink in, as if he were really taking into account what you were saying.

Finally, he scoffed and stared at you

"Fuck this" he said turning his back and walked away.

Later that night, Vanessa knocked on his door so he could have some fun for the night, though your words stung him, being deep into his mind. He hadn't chosen to have feelings for you, but he did, and he was a fool to think you would ever give him the time of the day. He knew you were more than simply his lay for the night, but it was all his damaged heart could offer you. At the same time he couldn't change his ways, so he accepted he would stick to a paid company and you would stay away from him, after all, you and Javi were simply incompatible.

____

A/N: please besties don't kill me, but I get so jealous when he says hi to Vanessa 🔪

[roxygen22]

Still Here (Chapter 10)

Summary: Picks up after your steamy confession that you love Timothée in return.

C/W: NSFW-ish beginning (minors DNI); parent with terminal illness

Catch up on previous chapters here.

Timothée trembled on top of you, barely able to support his weight on his elbows as he came down from the high of his climax.

"You do?" he asked, his tone revealing an air of disbelief.

"Yes. I've known with certainty since the day we went to the lake. I thought I had pushed those feelings aside a long time ago, but obviously the embers never died. I've just been too scared to say it, like that would somehow save me from heartbreak if you change your mind."

He rolled to your side and propped his head up on his hand so he could still look at you. "I haven't changed my mind in 12 years, [Y/N]." He traced your jawline lightly with his fingertips. "Believe me, I have tried many times over the years to convince myself otherwise. You're stuck with me."

"Promise?"

Timothée nodded, nuzzling his nose against your ear. "Can I hear you say it again?" he whispered.

"I love you, Timmy."

His lips crashed down onto yours in response. His free hand landed on your hip, his fingers making indentations in your flesh as he pulled your body to press up against his. This ebb and flow of passion continued throughout the night. When the two of you were finally spent, Timothée clung to you in his sleep as if he were afraid you would disappear.

You stirred when a ray of light from the window hit your face. Waking up next to Timothée after a night of lovemaking was something you had yet to experience. As teens, you were never afforded the opportunity. You took advantage of the chance to take in the features of his peaceful face. In many ways he looked just like he did all of those years ago. The same recognizable jawline, sharp nose, and mop of dark curly hair. But there were subtle differences that you found yourself falling in love with. Laugh lines. Crow's feet. A tiny scar next to his nose. You wondered what story was behind that and made a mental note to ask him later. You found yourself hoping that you would get to stare at this face for the rest of your life.

Your thoughts were interrupted as Timothée began to stir. His eyelids fluttered open, and he smiled as his eyes focused on you.

"Good morning, beautiful," he said, his voice still thick and gravelly with sleep. He pulled you in for a quick kiss.

"Morning." You smiled and sighed.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

You gently shrugged. "I wish I could give you back all the years I wasted."

"Everything happens for a reason, love. The past is the past. What we can do, though, is have fun making up for lost time." He gave you a suggestive look and squeezed your thigh. He acted like he was about to lean in for another kiss, but stopped just short of your lips. "But first, breakfast."

You took in the view as Timothée threw off the blanket and walked naked to the kitchen. You wouldn't mind seeing that for the rest of your life, either.

<><><><><>

After enjoying breakfast in bed, the two of you got dressed and Timothée drove you back to your parents' house. Needing to get back to check on his dad and work in his shop, he dropped you off in front of the house.

Before you got out, he asked, "Hey, why don't you and Madison come over for dinner this evening? Dad would love to see you again and meet Madison. And it would mean a lot to me."

You paused to think through your calendar. "Sure, we can do that. Text me later about the time and what I can bring." You kissed him on the cheek and hopped out of the truck.

Madison was sitting on the couch in the living room when you walked inside. She crossed her arms and glared at you. "Where have you been?"

You found the juxtaposed roles amusing, but tried your best not to show it. "We watched a movie at Timothée's house and fell asleep." Not exactly a lie, but she didn't need the full truth, either. Madison narrowed her eyes at you, but she was satisfied enough with the answer to return to her book.

Your mother watched the entire exchange and covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. You walked past her to the kitchen with a knowing smile on your face. She followed you and asked, "Sooooo, how was your night?"

"Well, like I said, we watched a movie at his place and fell asleep." You laughed nervously and blushed.

"Mm-hmm. I wasn't born yesterday, child."

"It was....good. Really, really good."

She smiled. "Good. You needed to get some."

You scoffed. "Mom!"

"What?! Like I said, I wasn't born yesterday. I called it as soon as he said y'all were going to his place instead of out for dinner." She grinned.

"ANYWAY. Timothée invited Madison and me over to his dad's house for dinner tonight," you interjected, trying to change the subject.

"Must be getting pretty serious if he's bringing y'all home to meet the family," she quipped.

"It's not like I've never met Mr. Chalamet before," you replied insolently.

"Perhaps. But Madison hasn't."

You opened your mouth to rebut, but quickly shut your jaw with a click. She was right, though the realization did not come as a shock. "You're stuck with me" resonated in your head. Timothée was all in at this point. You ducked your head and smiled.

<><><><><>

You returned to the Chalamet's property later that evening with a bottle of wine in hand and daughter close behind you. Timothée met you at your car to give you a chaste kiss and Madison a hug. "Come on inside," he said as he guided the two of you up to the porch.

Mr. Chalamet was waiting at the front door with open arms. "[Y/N]! So good to see you again," he exclaimed as he closed the hug. "And who is this?" He looked at the girl who had half-hidden herself behind Timothée's leg.

You stepped back from the hug and waved her over. "Madison, come meet Mr. Chalamet." You heard him gasp slightly as your daughter revealed herself.

"She looks just like you did as a girl."

"That's exactly what I said the first time I saw her, too," Timothée agreed, setting a hand on Madison's shoulder in reassurance.

She looked up at you in disbelief. "Is there anyone in this town who didn't know you as a kid?" All of you laughed.

Unable to stand for long, Mr. Chalamet returned to his armchair in the living room. You accompanied him and caught him up on the highlights of your time in California while Timothée stepped away to put the finishing touches on dinner. Once Madison helped him set the table and bring out the food, the four of you took your places. Soon you were all reminiscing and laughing at the stories Mr. Chalamet told of Timothée as a boy. You could tell, though, that he was getting tired by the time dessert was served. You and Madison cleared the table while Timothée helped him back to his armchair, then joined them in the living room.

You knelt down in front of him and held his hand. "This has been lovely, Mr. Chalamet. Thank you for having us over."

"Oh, sweet girl. I'm so glad you are back." He nodded past you at Madison, who now stood by Timothée. "You've done a good job with her, my dear. Timothée talks about her all the time."

"Oh, she makes it easy." He gave you a soft smile.

"Will we be seeing more of the two of you, [Y/N]?

You looked at Timothée and smiled before looking back at his dad. "I hope so." You sandwiched Mr. Chalamet's hand between yours and squeezed before standing to leave. Madison shyly waved at him and followed you out the door. Timothée walked the two of you to your car and opened the door for Madison. Before he opened yours, he leaned down to give you a kiss.

"Thank you for this," he said quietly.

"He...seemed to be in good spirits."

"Today was a good day. Those seem to be happening less frequently. He rallied because he wanted to see you two."

You reached up and cupped his cheek. "I see now why you said this would mean a lot to you. I didn't realize he was so..." You were at a loss for words.

"Sick? Yeah. I know it may have seemed a bit premature for this, but I wanted to have, uh..." He looked up at the sky and cleared his throat to will the tears away.

"A family dinner?" you guessed.

Timothée looked down at you and nodded. "I know this is fast and you wanted to take things slowly, but there may not be time and I didn't want to lose the chance to be surrounded by the most important people in my life, those still with us at least. I can't explain just how badly I wanted my dad to meet Madison, especially. I know she's not mine, but I...I love her so much already."

"I know." You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him to you. He rested his head in the crook of your neck and cried.

<><><><><>

Chapter 11

Masterlist

Tag List: @croatianprincess, @bluizh, @jindongdongie, @groovyqueer

[rheaslz]

i have no idea how to use tumblr well but here’s a little satan x mc drabble i wrote!

-sorry if he’s a little ooc i don’t write very well aha

Snowfall (gn!mc)

It was already December in the human world and the first chilly gusts of winter wind blew by. Satan had been granted permission to spend the winter with you- his first ever Human world Christmas. It had taken a lot of persuasion and good-behavior to get Lucifer's approval, but it would be well worth it.Satan had convinced you into hosting him at your apartment instead of serenity manor.He thought it would be much more fitting as it would just be the two of you.

There was a curt set of knocks at your door as you scrambled to put your cleaning supplies away before you opened up the door. Just like he said he would, Satan arrived that evening alongside his suitcase and backpack. You smiled a little nervously as you let him in. You hadn’t seen him in a while, not to mention it was the first time ever having any one of the brothers in your apartment. You were able to stash away most of the cleaning supplies you were using in the cupboards and you did your best to make the place look presentable enough.

Your eyes glazed over his entirety, still taking in the fact that Satan would actually be staying with you. “I'm happy to see you..” You tell him, a little sheepishly. It had been so long you forgot how to behave normally around him.

He looks away, a dusting of pink coating his cheeks. “Likewise.” He replies a lot more coolly than you could have, yet he drops his suitcase and bag to wrap his arms around you in a tight embrace.He holds you tightly and his familiar scent fills your nose.God, how you missed his touch.

After stowing away his bags in your room, you give him a mini-tour of your apartment. It was nothing Lavish like the House of Lamentation or Purgatory hall but it was cozy and homely- just how you liked it. The two of you settled on the couch, your legs resting on his lap.

“Tell me, what have I missed out on while I’ve been up here?” You asked curiously, even when you reverted back to your ordinary life in the human realm your mind would often flicker to the brothers, wondering what they were getting up to.

“Not much..Just the same old- although a certain black cat has been visiting the house recently.” He tells you, a flicker in his eyes. “She's usually by the doorstep when I return from RAD if Beelzebub doesn't accidentally scare her off before I get there.”

You can't help but listen half-heartedly, focusing more on that familiar look on his face whenever he was talking about something he liked. The flicker of excitement in his eyes and that subtle upturn of his lips most people wouldn't even notice. “Don't tell me I've been replaced by a cat?” You stifle a chuckle, raising a brow.

“Obviously not..although she's a close second.” He grins, his hand running across your lower leg. “Are you cold?” He asks abruptly. You look down and see goosebumps lining your legs, all of a sudden realizing the unusual chill that ran through you.

“Sort of..” You murmur, getting up to look out of the window. A thin pearly layer of snow coated the ground, small flakes falling as your breath fogged up the window. “Satan Come look, it's snowing!” You tell Satan excitedly, beckoning him to the window. He comes over beside you, watching the snowfall out of your window intently. There was never any snow in the Devildom, you weren't sure if Satan had ever seen any. “We have to go outside.” You say, buzzing excitedly.

“Won't you get sick?” He asks, a hint of concern for you laced in his voice. “I read that humans can be very susceptible to the cold in Winter.” You look up at him, a reassuring smile on your face. “You don't have to worry about me! I never get sick.” You nod confidently, grabbing a wooly scarf you had worn the day earlier and wrapping it around your neck “see! I'll be fine.”

“I was not worrying..” He denies, although the concern for his favorite human was evident in his voice. He shrugs on the coat he arrived in as you encourage him to hurry up “before the snow stops”.You practically drag him out of the apartment door as he walks behind you within arms-reach making sure you don't tumble down the stairs.The cold air bristles against your skin harshly, but you're too happy to care. You turn to look up at Satan to find him already looking down at you.

Specks of snow land all over him, freckling his blonde lashes and hair. His warm breath creates a cloud of smoke in the frosty air. His right hand reaches to cup your cheek, thumb brushing away the snow that had landed on your cheek. His left tugging on one of the ends of your wooly scarf to bring you closer.

Getting so caught up the moment, you release a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding. “You don't know how hard it was being apart from you,” He admits, voice a little strained.

Your words catch in your throat, but it doesn't matter anyways. In their absence, Satan leans down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, his warm hands cupping your face- making up for any possible words you could have said.

[captainpains]

Hunter is a Dad (Sergeant Hunter x reader)

Trying to finish my @clonexreaderbingo card. Some short stories coming soon. Enjoy💕

Prompt: “I hate you.”

Warnings: gn reader, established relationship, teenage moodiness and antics, parenting, so short

~~~~~~

“I hate you!” Omega shouted.

She stomped down the hallway and slammed the door to her room.

Hunter sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Omega wanted to go to a party that Lyana and some of the teenage girls on the island were having that night. But the batch had a mission to prepare for, and Omega had a responsibility to help with the preparations. She was obviously really upset about not being able to go.

“She’s growing up Hunter. It’s normal for her to want to go out with her friends and skip out on responsibility.” You gave your boyfriend a comforting pat on the back.

“I know.” He grumbled. “That doesn’t make this any easier.”

“You’re never prepared for the first time your kid says that they hate you.” You chuckled. Hunter looked at you with an unamused look. 

Hunter flopped down on the sofa. He knew the day would come when Omega wanted to do anything but spend time with them. In all honesty, he had hoped that the day would never come. But it seemed that it was inevitable. 

“She has a responsibility to fulfill. And she knows that.” He said, frustrated.

“She also just wants to be a normal teenager. I was far from responsible when I was her age, always sneaking out and breaking the rules. It’s part of growing up.” You explained as you sat down next to him.

You remebered when you would sneak out to parties and dodge the law. You were so young and free. But also so stupid. You'd told Omega so many stories from your youth, in hopes that she wouldn't make the same mistakes you did. However, you were also aware that those tales could be used for insperation.

“Besides, Omega’s a good kid. She’s very responsible and y’all did a great job raising her.” You took your boyfriend's hand and kissed the back of it.

“Don’t sell yourself short, cyare. You did a lot too, for her and for me.” Hunter said with a small smile.

“Thank you, dear. But, I think Omega should be allowed to go to that party. We can trust her to make the right decisions.”

“I think you're right…” Hunter sighed again, “I know she can handle herself, and it's not like she can't finish her tasks tomorrow before we leave.”

“Great, I’ll go tell her that she can go and then we can have a nice relaxing evening to ourselves.”

You stood up from the sofa and went down the hallway to tell Omega the good news.

“Meg?” You knocked on her door, there was no response.

“Hunter and I had a talk. We both think it’s okay if you go.”

Still no response.

“Omega? I’m coming in now.”

You opened the door and gave a little chuckle. The window was open and Omega was nowhere to be found.

“Dear, I think she took inspiration from me for this one!” You yelled to Hunter down the hall. 

He just sighed. He was so done with this.

[very-feral-lesbian]

it happened one night a few weeks after eddie finally got the all clear from the sketchy government doctors.

it was around 11:30p.m and he was just now cleaning up dinner since wayne had just left for work, when he heard a knock. he was skeptical at first, obviously, he wasn't hawkins biggest fan at the moment.

he snuck a peek through the window of the kitchen.

first he saw the car, a BMW. it wasn't often that this side of town saw a BMW. much less the newest model, in burgundy of all colors. that was until he started coming around.

eddie walked around the kitchen to the door, drawing in a quick breath before opening the door. and there he stood.

steve harrington, hawkins resident king boy. the guy everyone wants standing on eddie's doorstep. in his classic polo and stupid tight light-wash jeans. but eddie could tell something was up.

he was able to read steve better since they had gotten closer when eddies world was rocked and he figured out that dnd wasn't so much of a fantasy game as much as it was a reflection of the truth of small town hawkins.

"what are you doing here, steve?"

steve muttered under his breath, something undecipherable but it gave eddie enough hint to let him know that steve was drunk. sloshed.

"you're gonna have to speak up, harrington."

steve had lifted his chin, staring right at eddie now. head wobbling a bit but his gaze very clearly directed at eddie.

"i wish i'd realized sooner."

then a pause.

"maybe," a hiccup, "maybe i wouldn't have been an asshole. maybe i would have been friends with robin. maybe i could have loved myself."

another pause. "steve.."

"maybe i could have loved you sooner."

he should have seen this coming. he and steve had this tension, something lingering that neither of them had done anything about. eddie mostly feared that it was too good to be true, that steve would revert back to his high school self. he was scared, but apparently not as scared as steve.

"fuck harrington, come in."

he ushered steve into the trailer, grabbing him a glass of water and some ibuprofen. steve was sobering up quickly, eyes less glazed over and emotions clear on his face, aware of what he had admitted.

he had sat steve up on his bed, back propped up and bucket on the floor, just in case.

he hopped on the bed next to him, crosslegged and back against the wall.

eddie had said anything yet, mostly because he wasn't sure how to go about this. whatever it was.

they were dancing around it for months and eddie didn't think now was the right time to make a move. but he also knew that steve was in his head right now, feelings apparent on his face, making it clear he was thinking hard.

eddie shifted, laying down and before turning the light off, "we can talk about it in the morning, steve, alright?"

steve looked over at him for the first time since he entered the trailer, lingering on eddie's gaze for a moment before nodding.

eddie flicked the light off and got himself under the covers, and if a hand snuck over to take his in the middle of the night, it was no ones business but his.