#sidestep ronan brown

[starrypawz]

-nsfw prompts that don’t sound like a bad porno- That's such a great list. How about No.16?👀

AO3 Prompt List (Might be a little rusty here as it's been a good while since i've written any FHR smut)

It’s a request not a demand. 

One Ric floats casually whilst he toys with the drawstrings on Ronan’s hoodie as Ronan rests against his side  as they both half pay attention to whatever is on the tv as they both sprawl out on the bed. 

(Maybe he floated it a bit too casually considering the subject matter, but then at the same time this whole… thing isn’t really meant to be a big deal, right?) 

“Why?” 

Ronan manages after what they suspect is too long of a pause. He still toys with the drawstring and Ronan curses themself as their mind starts to remind them of just how deft his fingers are.

“It would help?” He says with a shrug. 

Ronan snorts as well honed reflexes kick in.

Sarcasm, deflection

“Don’t tell me you need pointers,” 

“Ouch,” He feigns, clutching his chest, “It’s not like that,” He gently cups their chin, “More like… I want to know what you like,” He tilts their chin up slightly as his voice drops just a little, “Make things good for you,” 

Ronan swallows hard, feeling the imminent betrayal of creeping warmth to their cheeks. 

“It is good for me,” They reach out to  place a hand over his 

“I could make it better,”  He captures their hand and presses a kiss to Ronan's scarred knuckles

He grins. 

Shitshitshitshit

Toomuchtoomuchtoomuchtoomuch 

Those reflexes kick in again, “Or maybe you just want an excuse to watch me get off?” 

He snorts, “I can't deny I enjoy seeing that-”

“Ha!” Ronan snorts, “And I thought I was the one with evil plans!” 

“Curses,” He sighs theatrically, “Saw right through me,” 

And then he kisses them, soft, playful , and for long enough that  things start to get kind of hazy around the edges as he teases their bottom lip. 

“Just an idea,” He breathes as he gently tilts their chin again, “Just think about it, ok?”

“Ok,” 

They return their attention to half paying attention to whatever is on the tv and falling at it. 

(Or at least that’s the case for Ronan)

To hell with it.

“Ronan?”  He stares up at them in surprise as Ronan straddles his thigh and has their palms pressed into his shoulders.  

“What?” 

He blinks, “You want to do this now?” “Yes?”

He tilts his head, “You sure?”

“Yes,” 

“Re-”

“I swear if you ask one more time,” Ronan cuts him off and then sighs, “Look let’s not think too-” Don’tsayharddon’tsayharddon’tsayhard “Much about this?”

He snorts, “You were about to say hard weren’t you?” 

Ronan snorts and lightly punches him in the shoulder as they feel some of the tension melt away.

They kiss him this time, softly. 

“I’ll need your help to-” Ronan sighs as they pull back 

“I’ll need to your help to-”

“Say no more,” He breathes and smiles. 

That smile.

That’s the soft one, unfiltered and dangerous. 

Ronan kisses him again. 

They’re still getting used to the texture of his beard under their fingers as they cup his face but it feels… nice in an odd way.

His hands rest on their hips and the slight pressure is oddly grounding. Ronan pulls back for a moment to throw off their hoodie before they kiss him again. 

“Can I touch you?”

“Please,” 

His hands slip under their shirt and Ronan tenses for a second, (They have a feeling they always will) but they settle into his touch as he works his fingers over the complex network of scars and orange tattoos across their skin. 

They close their eyes and do their best to slip into other familiar reflexes, ones intended for much… harsher pursuits than ones like this as they bury their hands into his hair and he moans into their mouth. 

Don’t think, just feel. 

Every kiss and touch as they rut against his thigh brings an increasingly familiar warmth through them. Things start to get pleasantly soft around the edges again as they feel themselves start to sink and maybe they could just give over to-

He stops and Ronan finds themself jolted back to reality. 

“I’ve done my part,” He cups their cheek as he gives a teasing grin.

Ronan swallows hard as they shift off him and settle down against his side again, they slip off their shorts quickly before they have time to think about it and also slip a hand into their boxers before they have time to think about it as they drift their fingers against slick flesh with a sigh. 

They let their head tip back as they slowly tease themself, their other hand tenses at the sheets. 

Don’t think, just feel.

Ronan closes their eyes to see if that will help.

And for a while they manage to don't think, just feel as they just focus on their body.

The warmth running through them and pooling between their thighs. Their hitching breath, the slick skin under their fingers, the oddly pleasant ache between their thighs, the tension of their muscles as they lean into their touch.

But then there’s that part of them that always thinks, can never be shut off. Analysing and often over analysing everything

Ronan pauses for a moment to blindly slip their boxers off before they think too hard about it as they spread their legs a little further. 

Don't think, just feel. 

They’ve always had a weird relationship with… this. 

It’s never felt like a bad thing.

It’s been at its worst an annoyance, a distraction. 

But most of the time it just felt like another function that’s part and parcel of having a body that they don’t pay anymore heed to than anything else.

They tip their head back as they moan and bite down on their lip. Their fingers work faster, their shirt rucks up as they creep their touch upwards to tease their chest.

Don’t think, just feel. 

It’s never been something at the forefront of their mind.  Largely neutral other than the times they’ve felt it rather overrated and never understood why it was that big of a feal. 

(Well of course being able to glimpse into people’s minds tells them why it was a big deal but it still seemed… overblown) 

Even when…

They pause for a moment to catch their breath as their body aches with the frustration of being brought close to the edge and being left there.

Even when…

He'd come into the picture and this had been on their mind a lot more.

And then they found this was apparently more interesting to them and then they'd start to realise why this was that big of a deal…

Don't think, just feel

Don't think, just feel

Dontthinkjustfeeldontthinkjustfeel

Ronan groans and opens their eyes.

He's looking at them. 

And he’s looking at them too soft, too full of awe

Mistakemistakemistake 

“Ronan?”

“I’m fine,”

“You-”

“Yes,”  It comes out terser than intended as they lie there frustration overtaking their arousal before they close their eyes again. 

When they open the again he’s patting the sheets between his legs, “Come here,”

It’s a suggestion, not a demand and Ronan takes him up on it and settles between his legs against the familiar, solid, warm wall of his chest and sighs. 

“Do you want to keep going?”

Ronan manages to chuckle, “Don't have a lot of choice-” 

“Want some help?” 

Ronan swallows hard, “Please-” 

And before they can think about it they pull off their long sleeved t-shirt.

“Oh!” There's a surprised chuckle, “Okay then,” before he presses a kiss to their shoulder. 

Ronan settles back against him and his hands go their chest as they slip an hand between their thighs, close their eyes and

Don’t think, feel.

And they feel.

Feel the solid warmth of his chest against his back, the brush of his fingers against their bare skin, the softness of his lips against their neck, his gentle urging murmurs,. The warmth coursing through their veins that pools between their thighs, slick skin under their fingers, the tensing of their muscles as their back arches, their soft moans. 

And then finally, finally.

Their thighs press together as they cling onto his arm (Maybe a little too hard) as they ride out their climax. 

“So… that’s it,” They weakly mumble as they loll back against him as he holds them. 

“That’s it,” He echoes as he tucks a lock of Ronan’s lilac dipped hair behind their ear.

Ronan leans back and feels him pressed against their backside 

“Your turn,” They grin as they grind back against him. 

[punkrangerdraws]

Totally cool with Ronan getting a hug in the B1 or B2 pose if you want 💜

a Rene hug for Ronan! getting some uh last of us vibes here or something

[impossible-rat-babies]

--moodboard requests <3

ronan brown (fhr) for @starrypawz​

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

A Met Gala one-shot

somewhere, someone in the world wanted to kill us for leaving these clothes on the floor of a college recreation facility.

4.5k of flirty, well-dressed, smut

***

Okay, so maybe I did feel a little bit out of my element. I mean, style was never my thing. Fashion was never my thing. That’s why, after 6 years of really trying to make it, I was selling music--not the hottest trends.

“You’re going to be fine,” Jenna said behind me, her smile big and bright as I stared out the window as the car rolled to a stop.

The weather was beautiful--and I was lucky. Early May in New York City didn’t exactly always lend itself to warmth and sun. And the feathery, pink dress/cape combo I was wearing didn’t exactly lend itself to the most confidence.

I knew the drill. Jenna and Britney had run through things twice already in the short ride from the hotel. I’d get out, wait in line, walk the carpet, greet the co-chairs, head inside. I’d eat some food, mingle with some people, and enjoy the night.

I knew a few people who’d be there. Sophie Turner, Zendaya, even Hailey Baldwin (Bieber? Still not clear on that.) So I’d be fine. I’d be nice and social and it would be fine. That’s what I kept repeating to myself as I heard the door on the other side of the car open and shut quickly.

Britney, my amazing manager and time-keeper for all things Met Gala, seemed to be opening my door before I could even process it. There were chirps of excitement from people gathered nearby, but no camera flashes yet--which was appreciated.

I’d walked red carpets before. In fact, I tripped and caught myself on Saiorse Ronan’s shoulder only six months earlier--so I figured tonight couldn’t be that bad. I stepped out, gaining more noise from the fans who’d gathered to catch glimpses, but I didn’t expect for some screams to break out the way they had.

I was new, after all. My debut album had dropped in the fall, I was still in the middle of my first headlining tour. I wasn’t exactly A-list yet. I was surprised when I even got the invitation in the first place.

And when Moschino offered to dress me, I was even more surprised that I was popping up on people’s radars. And not just people--fashion people.

“Stella Mayfield--walking,” I heard a voice next to me, a woman in a black gown was apparently communicating with whoever (and whatever) was inside the giant tent opening straight ahead. Jenna could sense my nerves--she reached over to rub my shoulder and offer a smile. Thank god I had the two of them, plus Danny, my one and only security guard.

Danny’s job was more of a precaution, I think. I’d yet to be in a situation where people were really rowdy or wild. I mean, there’d be fans gathered outside my hotel on tour and people outside of the venues. But I’d never seen Danny had to launch into action. I mean, I’d never been mobbed or anything.

So I had a buffer. I had Britney and Jenna and Danny all night. We could leave when we pleased, I reminded them. Which I think was more of an out for me if I got too nervous or overwhelmed by all of the fancy clothes and money in one room.

We waited in line, I watched as the photographers and reporters on the side of the big steps would scream people’s names, hoping to get a glimpse or a wave or an answer to a question.

Soon enough, the woman in black--who’d escorted us all the way in--spoke my name into her walkie-talkie and gave me a shove forward. So much for a warning.

I smiled immediately, thankful that people seemed to know who I was (and care), and I posed at the bottom of the stairs for the group of photographers who seemed to be giving me the nicest directions.

“Can you turn this way, Stella?”

“It’s great to see you, Stella, are you excited to be here?”

I chose the woman with the short blonde hair to talk with--she seemed the most approachable and most interested in actually hearing from me. I told her that yes, I was excited to be here, no, I wasn’t bringing a date. Yes, I was dressed in Moschino, and no, I wouldn’t be leaving with anyone.

I did my best to make eye contact with a few of them, Britney had always given that advice for big events like these. She said that when you’re trying to still make a name for yourself, it was good to give answers and be friendly and make them write about you.

I was pulled up the steps, though, by Britney, who gave me some easy directions to pose in two different spots on the stairs. And soon, when I neared the top, I saw the co-chairs--undoubtedly, the people I was most nervous to see.

It wasn’t that they were worlds more famous than me (that didn’t help), it was more that they were the ones who ultimately decided who got to come. Anna Wintour approved the invite list and somehow, I’d been cool enough to not get cut.

My heartbeat was steadily rising, and when I met the final step, Lady Gaga gave me the biggest smile I’d ever been greeted with.

“Stella!” She beamed at me, opening her arms wide to give me a hug. Jenna, Britney, and Danny seemed to stay back. “I’m so glad you’re here! We were so hoping you’d come!”

“It’s so nice to meet you!” I smiled, letting her embrace me. Someone--who I didn’t recognize--was in front of me and schmoozing with Serena Williams. “Thank you so much for having me.”

“Are you kidding me?” She pulled back, apparently surprised by my graciousness. “You’re the hottest thing right now, live it up! It can be weird, I know. Big event, big names. Enjoy yourself tonight. You’re a star!”

I was shocked, really--not just by her beauty and her gown and her niceness, but by the fact that she seemed to say exactly what I needed to hear.

“Darling, so good to meet you,” Anna Wintour greeted me, reaching a hand forward to tug at my long brown hair. “Absolutely love your gown!”

I was getting pushed along--the line behind me was apparently longer than I’d realized and people were eager to get inside. Serena Williams and Alessandro Michele seemed to be caught up with someone (extravagant makeup and a blonde wig made it hard to tell who it was), so I looked up at Britney, who gave me a shrug when she saw that I was stuck, and I sidestepped the mystery guest.

Harry Styles, clad in a black get up, offered me a small smile and leaned in to hug me, speaking over the crowd as his lips grazed my ear. “Great to meet you, you look beautiful,” he said.

I pulled back slightly, a flush rising on my cheeks as I cursed myself for being starstruck at an event where my main job was to just act like I belonged.

“You do too,” I offered back, immediately wondering if he’d appreciate being called beautiful. Was my 24-year-old girl showing too much? He smiled back and I moved on. We’d met in passing once before, I knew Niall a little bit better after writing a song with him in 2018, but we’d never actually spoken.

“Your album is amazing, it’s seriously been the soundtrack to my life lately. Listen to it all the time, really,” he nodded, his eyes sweeping over my face.

“Seriously? I’m so flattered, thank you!”

He pulled his eyes away from me then, smiling at the person behind me, who clearly wasn’t appreciative of my loitering. A pang of disappointment washed over me, but he brought his eyes back down. “We’ll talk later, yeah? Find me inside, or I’ll find you!”

“Sure, yeah!” I nodded, getting shoved away from him by the moving line before I could even give him another hug.

I let out a breath, happy to have more space from other bodies and thankful for the fact that Jenna, Britney, and Danny were once again by my side.

“You did it,” Britney smiled, clapping her hands together. “Walked your first Met Gala stairs. And you shined,” she said.

**

The first thing I did inside was get a drink. Not only because I needed one, but also because they were free. Not just your typical open bar free--these were top-shelf, well-made, served with a smile cocktails that had these pretty pink straws that poked out of the top.

Whatever Jenna had ordered for me tasted like lemon. I wasn’t mad.

The dinner was delicious--I was seated with people I barely knew, but I was fine enough once I’d had some liquor and some food. I’d popped by the table in the back--where everyone’s entourage was seated--to visit my three staff and make sure they were fine.

But just as I’d expected, they were more than entertained by the food, the drink, and the company. So when I walked back to my seat and spotted Harry incredibly close to my table, I sipped the end of my drink (strong, not well mixed at the bottom), and took a deep breath.

“Hi,” I said quickly, offering him a smile as he pulled his eyes from his current conversation partner and brought them to meet mine. In a typical situation, I’d feel sorry for interrupting and might have even avoided it altogether, but something pulled me towards talking to Harry again.

Maybe because he was the only person (aside from Lady Gaga) who’d made me feel completely comfortable all night.

He said his goodbyes to the man in the red suit before opening his arms to hug me again. “You’re alive still!”

“I am!” I laughed a little, mainly because I was surprised I’d lasted this long. Parties (especially with this many famous people) were exhausting. I wasn’t sure if he’d had four redbulls already or was just filled with adrenaline, but he seemed awake and excited and like he was having the time of his life.

“Me too, I’m also alive, which is good.” He nodded seriously, stepped a bit closer to me to let someone pass by us.

The lights were dim--we were in the strange space between dinner and dessert. There were dancers on stage and music that played along to their movements, but the entertainment hadn’t yet truly started.

“You must be exhausted,” I said, extremely aware of the fact that his arm brushed against mine.

He let out a laugh and shrugged his shoulders. “Long day, but it’s fine. I can sleep tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I asked, pulling my head back in confusion. I was under the impression that I’d be home and in bed by 1am. At least, that was the limit I’d subconsciously set for myself.

“There’s a few after parties,” he nodded. “I’m hosting one with Gucci at The Fleur Room. You’ll have to come!”

I felt stupid for a second, stupid for not realizing that of course there’d be after parties and of course I should go. I mean, in all honesty, this was work. I needed to mingle and network and meet celebrities and get my name out there.

“Right,” I said, trying to play it cool. “Of course, I’d love to!”

“I’d love to see you there,” he said, letting his eyes pause on mine for a second longer than usual. “Your album is seriously amazing. Where’d you record?”

“Mostly L.A.,” I said. “I’ve been working a lot with Ricky Reeves, he produced most of it.”

“You did a song with Tom Hull, too, right? He did a song on my album!”

“I did!” I smiled, I’d completely forgotten that we had that in common. Tom Hull--Kid Harpoon--had worked with a slew of amazing artists. When he reached out and asked if I wanted to work on something with him, I was touched.

“He’s a genius,” Harry said simply. “Total genius with lyrics.”

“I know--I swear to God the song we wrote took us like ten minutes and it’s one of my favorites.”

“Try For It, right?”

I nodded--trying to mask my excitement that he knew the name of my song. I knew he’d said he liked my album, but everyone says that when you release your first major-label project. A part of me wondered if he’d really been listening to it as much as he said.

“I have to say, though, I think Break Me is my favorite.”

I laughed, once again completely flattered that not only did he know my album, but apparently, he had favorites. I leaned up to speak into his ear--the music was louder and people were cheering for the dancers on stage. “It’s my favorite, too, but don’t tell anyone. Kinda ruins the whole songwriter I love all of my songs equally thing.”

**

Around 11pm I needed a break. I dipped out of the main ballroom and headed down a hallway, thankful that Danny was distracted by Jenna and Britney to give me some space.

My heels on the floor echoed as I walked--I didn’t know where I was headed, but I wasn’t worried about finding my way back. I turned down another hallway, which left me in an empty exhibit room.

But that’s when I heard a laugh.

I peered around some sort of statue (again, music was my thing, not other forms of art), and saw Harry, slumped against a wall with a phone pressed up to his ear.

He looked up and met my eyes, offering a wave as he informed the person on the other end that he had to go. I tried to motion at him that I was sorry for walking in, but he pulled the phone from his ear, pressed a button, and shoved it back in his pocket.

He’d changed--his top was now white and a big, almost goofy looking bow-tie adorned his neck.

“Hi, sorry, I was just,” I motioned back down the hall that I came from. “Trying to get some air.”

He let out a laugh. “My thoughts exactly.”

I was quiet for a second, still feeling guilty for walking in and hoping that he didn’t think I’d purposely followed him back here. But he spoke again before I could voice any of those thoughts.

“This is your first Met Gala, right?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, but I didn’t say more. I could tell he was thinking.

“Mine too--pretty busy. That was my mum, asking if it was going alright. She just woke up back home.”

He kept his eyes focused on something past me--I could tell he was thinking more to himself than he was saying out loud.

“Were you nervous for today?” I asked suddenly, my voice still quiet so as to not echo throughout the room.

He brought his eyes back to me at this and a grin overtook his face. “Are you kidding? I was practically in the fetal position before the carpet.”

“Are you serious?” I laughed in response. “You seem so,” I searched for the right words. “Put together and calm and used to it.” I didn’t mention that he looked so attractive, was so talented, and I was practically on cloud nine due to the amount of conversing we’d done.

“You’ll get used to it,” he nodded, his smile smaller now but just as genuine. He gave me a look as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.

Am I cut out for this type of stuff?

“I’m somewhat used to it,” he said slowly, but he looked down at his high waisted pants. “Still getting used to this type of thing, though,” he plucked at the waistband, his eyebrows furrowed together to get a laugh out of me.

“I’ll get used to it,” I nodded my head, appreciative of his humor and his groundedness.

“And until then, you’re doing a great job of faking it.”

**

I was chatting and laughing and drinking with Alexa Chung in the corner of the big athletic complex when Harry sidled up beside me.

“What’re you drinking?” He asked, leaning in closer to me so I could hear him--once more--over the music. Alexa watched with a smile as I held my drink up to him, offering a taste.

He took it from me, and I watched as his lips pressed against the same place that mine had just been. He scrunched his nose to more accurately judge, and when he handed it back to me, he smiled.

“Whatever it is, I want one, and it looks like you could use another.”

**

He found me afterwards, two identical drinks in his hands and a smile on his face as he pulled me aside to cheers to a successful night for the two of us. And we drank the drinks together, admittedly faster than we probably planned. And then we had another.

And then I danced beside him as Mark Ronson played different songs and we took stupid selfies with people who popped over to say hello. I’d lost Danny long before--though I assumed I was in his sight--when Britney and Jenna said goodnight. They told me to have fun, enjoy myself, and most of all, don’t end up naked or black out or anything that would end up on the internet tomorrow (this) morning.

But that wasn’t me. I wasn’t that type of person.

“Do you need a break for a minute?” Harry asked, his arm snaking around my waist as I smiled up at Alexa as she said something about Cher’s performance earlier.

I looked up at him quickly, his face was close to mine and his lips brushed against the side of my temple again when he spoke. “I could use a break, is what I should say.”

Alexa seemed to not mind at all, in fact, I could have sworn that she gave him a playful wink as he draped his arm over my shoulder and I started to head away from the commotion.

“A water, a snack, all of it sounds nice,” he laughed, bringing his eyes down to me as we climbed down the stairs from the DJ booth. “And maybe one more of those lemon things.”

“I have no idea what’s in them,” I laughed. “So if we’re ridiculously hungover, don’t blame me.”

“I would never,” he laughed, letting his hip bump into mine somewhat as we made our way for the door.

A man in a suit--not Danny, but who looked like he might have been Harry’s version of Danny--opened the door for us right as we approached, leading us into a hallway with bright yellow chairs that lined the wall. Celebrity guests were seated all along, drinking and chatting and taking obnoxious pictures in their best-attempt at Camp.

It was then that I caught sight of Danny, who said something to the man who’d been holding the door open, and gave me a subtle wave as Harry withdrew his arm from around my shoulders.

I waved to Joe Jonas (who seemed to smile when he saw me) and felt, for the first time all night, like I actually was starting to belong.

“Still a little crowded,” he said, looking each direction down the hall. One way was towards the entrance--cocktail tables lined with flashy tablecloths and extraordinary floral arrangements. He looked to his right, nodded his head in that direction, and then looked down at me again.

He walked away from me, and I turned back to give Danny some kind of please don’t follow me look before falling into step beside him.

“What’s down here?” I asked, a laugh escaping my lips as we headed farther down the dark hallway.

“No idea,” he shook his head, a smile on his face as he licked his lips. “But somewhere to sit and take this bow-tie off and just talk for a second would be nice.”

And so we found a room that had a desk and a blackboard and Harry decided to write our names in chalk in big, obnoxious, somewhat drunk handwriting.

He sat on the desk then, loosened his bow-tie, and smirked. “It’s been nice to get to know you tonight.”

I smiled, hoping that if my cheeks looked red, I could blame it on the alcohol. “Thanks for making me feel so welcome,” I said.

He smiled, holding the red fabric in his hands. “I should say the same--I was definitely freaked out to be here and be co-chairing, but I would say it’s been successful.”

“Me too,” I nodded assuredly, thankful that I’d long turned in my feathery pink ensemble for a gold and shimmery gown--one that showed just enough cleavage and was markedly more convenient to dance in.

I wouldn’t have done what I did next if he didn’t look up at me with an innocent--yet somehow completely daring--smile. In two steps, I was stood between his legs, my hands on his face, and my lips against his.

And in half a second, his hands were around my waist, pulling me closer to him. We stayed like that for a minute, but soon he stood, stepped me backwards, and flipped our positions. Now I was against the desk, he worked one hand at the back zipper of my dress, and my hands were fiddling with the buttons of his shirt.

My thoughts were racing and my pulse was too. He deepened the kiss and I shrugged out of the top of my dress. When I felt the fabric of his shirt against my chest, I was reminded, ever so timely, that I’d opted to be braless all night.

Harry didn’t seem to mind, however, because soon his hand was around my breast. I made a noise when we connected, which must have turned him on even more, because he suddenly started working at removing his own shirt to be less fabric between us.

His lips were warm and soft and something about the possibility of being walked in on made me terrified and excited all at once. He made me nervous and unsure and hyperaware, but he also made me feel comfortable and like I fit in.

I kissed him harder--thankful for the fact that he seemed to be handling his pants on his own. They looked extremely difficult to get on, so getting them off was sure to be quite the task. I tried not to worry, though, and it didn’t take much to distract me because he pulled away from me for a second.

“You’ve looked beautiful all night and this is not normally what I do,” he said, his brows dipped inward as he tried to explain himself.

In all honesty, I wasn’t really worried and I wasn’t even thinking about how many times he’d done this before. But now I was.

He must have seen the look on my face, because he moved his head to get a better look at my face. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“No,” I said, probably too quickly. “It’s fine--I just, I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

He let out a laugh, his eyes scanning over my face once more. “I’d be so honored,” he teased.

He kissed me again, this time, his hands were searching my body, searching for skin and searching for connection. I let them wander, finding the hem of my dress before pulling it away from my skin. I pulled my mouth away from his for a second--a dip in his brows told me he didn’t appreciate that--to slide his pants down from his hips.

I could feel his erection against me as he worked at the final buttons of his shirt, and I let my hands find it as he kept his lips connected to mine. He let out a sharp exhale at that, making a noise of pleasure as I palmed him over the fabric of his boxer briefs.

He pulled away from me quickly, taking me by the hands to stand me up. His fingers tugged at the fabric of my dress--somewhere, someone in the world wanted to kill us for leaving these clothes on the floor of a college recreation facility.

I didn’t have much time to think about that, though, because after Harry shed his shoes and his undershirt, he picked me up and set me back on the table, nodding his head in direction to lay back.

His mouth was against me in seconds, his fingers pulling away the thin strap of my thong as his tongue worked against my center. It was jarring, really--not just because of the sensation, but because of how quick he had my back arched and his name floating from my lips.

He seemed to like that, though, as he inserted two fingers to pump in and out of me while his tongue drew abstract circles.

“Yeah, baby?” his voice was deep and throaty. “Feel good?”

I let out a moan once more, reaching a hand down to grab at his hair, keeping his tongue pressed against me. He let out a cheeky laugh, my dependence on him seemed to feed his ego.

I let my own hand wander to my chest, playing with my own nipple. When he saw this, he muttered under his breath. “Shit, Stella.”

He pulled away quickly, pulling his boxers down to reveal what I’d been waiting for. I sat up on the desk, scooching closer to the edge to give him better access. He held his own hand around his shaft, and he smiled up at me before letting his tip enter slowly.

He immediately let out a moan, his hands reaching around to make contact with my butt--pulling me closer to the edge so he could go deeper inside of me.

“Fuck, Stella, you’re so wet for me,” he breathed into my ear.

Maybe it was the fact that we were in some sort of athletic office--maybe it was the fact that I could get in so much trouble for this. But whatever it was made it even more sensual to feel his cock up against my clit as he moaned in my ear.

“As soon as we got here I knew I wanted my night to end with you,” he said--which struck me as sweet and incredibly sexy at the same time.

I reached my arms up to his neck, holding him close to me as he rocked in and out. “You feel so good,” I told him.

“Yeah?” He said, a smirk on his face again as he leaned in to press a kiss to my lips. “You’re so fucking tight, baby.”

He started to go faster, his hands still keeping my butt close enough that he could hit the right angle. “I want to fucking fill you up, Stella,” he said, his voice lower and deeper than before. “You feel so fucking good all around me.”

“Fuck me, then, Harry,” I told him, and the direction seemed to get him even more excited. He pumped faster, the desk beneath us started to squeak, which caused laughter on both parts, and soon, he moaned into my ear as I felt him come inside of me.

He kissed me again, deep and genuine, and then pulled away and laughed. “Fucking someone in a school office where we might get caught. That’s pretty camp.”

[starrypawz]

I know this is Old Lore (tm) but I haven't talked about Ronan in a while so

Ronan on the simplest level is non binary and uses they/them pronouns

If you put a finer point on it Ronan is agender or even gender apathetic really but Ronan sort of runs on a 'idk lady I just work here' basis and doesn't really dig much deeper but if they were shown the label agender they'd be like 'oh ok yeah that makes sense'

They generally present fairly androgynously and that's their preference but they have a very loose preference (by the barest definition of the word) for being perceived as masc like a 'if I have to pick between the two this one I guess' and they're generally fairly chill with masculine terms being applied to them, like they would sort of just roll with it if someone called them a guy or saw them with Ric as a couple and called Ronan 'your boyfriend' on if he introduced them as 'my boyfriend' and when Ric speaks Spanish with them he uses the masculine with them

[starrypawz]

Had a little bit of freshly escaped Sidestep stuff rattling around so AO3

It hadn’t been on purpose. 

Ronan (It felt shinier than the other names they’d tried, yeah that’s this is the one, my name is Ronan)) had entered the gas station, another nondescript one in a swathe of nondescript gas stations that had all started blending together by this point. Small down after small town, the sort of places people pass through or come from but never willingly go to. 

They’d even intended to pay (the fact the money had been pickpocketed was neither here nor there not really, it hadn’t been a lot anyway that person wouldn’t have even noticed) 

They’d walked around the gas station that mantra of don’tseemedon’tseemedon’tseeme that had been repeated over and over ever since their escape at the front of their mind and when they’d approached the counter next thing Ronan knew was they had a plastic bag in their hand and the change was still in their pocket. 

And as they sit on a kerb and chew on the chocolate they think. 

The clerks mind had been… so open, carelessly so. Hazy around the edges and Ronan’s thoughts probably would’ve become slow if they’d become stuck there. And they’d pushed through and had found…

Apathy. 

Thoughts not on the job, more on things like a six pack of beer and a joint. A desire to get out of this piece of shit town, this year, yeah this year, finally get my shit together and get the fuck out of here, the band will make it big this year. 

But they’d said that last year, and the year before that… 

Enough apathy that they probably could’ve just walked out with the stuff anyway. 

Ronan swallows down the mixture of chocolate and nougat. 

This had been so… easy. 

Stepping into someone’s mind was as easy as breathing by this point. They’d started with little steps in easily controlled setups… little games. 

Tell me the colour, tell me the shape, tell me the numbers, rotate the cow. 

Then onto more, harder games. Picking things up (a pen, a book, a knife), making them forget something that happened, make them remember something that didn’t happen, make them speak.

But they’d been so good at them.

So good eventually they’d been allowed to do this outside, that had been harder. So many minds, so much noise but they’d found the person with the secrets and it had been nothing to make them drop the bag so they could pick it up. 

That hadn’t been long before all this.

Ronan finishes the chocolate and as they open up the can of soda they wonder what else they can do.

[starrypawz]

20 of the touching prompts for whoever u want

AO3 Touching Prompts

“It’s funny,”

“What?”

“How-” There’s a barely audible ow as the disinfectant hits skin, “Apparently skinning your knee still hurts like hell no matter how old you are,”

“Guess… you’re well versed in that?”

Ricardo snorts, “Yeah probably would be quicker to list off the times I didn’t have skinned knees as a kid,” He shrugs, “You know how it is,”

Ronan swallows and then makes the mistake of looking up.

“I… I… don’t… really,”

He raises an eyebrow.

Shit

Their gaze drops back to his skinned knee. Caused by one misplaced foot on a low wall that they both know he’s too old to have jumped up onto but both of them are also too young to really care about that.

“I… I wasn’t allowed out much,”

(Not a lie)

(Technically)

“Oh,”

Ronan has another ‘not a lie technically’ about strict… Parents? No no… Guardians? Waiting to go but he just shrugs.

“That sucks,”

“Yeah, “ Ronan sighs as they open up a dressing, “it sucks,”

“Well,” Ricardo chuckles as Ronan carefully places the dressing on his knee, “Now you’re free to skin your knee as much as you want,”

“That’s… not much of a perk?”

“I mean there’s also perks like no one can stop you eating ice cream for breakfast,”

“That’s more like it,”

[starrypawz]

One of Ronan's particular quirks/talents is seldom losing anything because they're just really good at keeping track of stuff due to having freakishly good observation skills

Which has freaked Ortega out on more than one occasion because he's been like 'Where are my keys' or something and Ronan's just rattled off a weirdly specific location

[starrypawz]

3 for the blossoming romance prompt list w anyone you like‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

Blossoming Romance AO3 Exchanging Secret Smiles

Ronan sits with their legs swung over the arm of the chair, hoodie slung over the back of it, the picture of apparent nonchalance as they take another chip from the bag. 

Even though it’s been over a year since Marshall Charge  Ortega Ricardo had first invited them in, gently lured them in like a stray from the alley, there's a part of them that still feels this is an act of trespass. 

They’re half paying attention to the conversation before them as they savour the taste of sour cream and salt. 

Although the words only say so much. 

Ricardo is leaning against the countertop in a way that’s on the surface casual, maybe too casual for a Marshall but this breakroom is a liminal space, but Ronan notices the tension in his knuckles as he grips the counter for a moment before he relaxes. Steel is at the table sitting in a way that’s… not relaxed… even if he’s leant back slightly in the chair. He’s… controlled, ready to shift into action at a moment's notice. 

(Familiar) 

And then even if they’re not actually trying to pry, there’s the void on the edge of their thoughts that marks Ricardo’s presence and then something that’s seemingly as solid as his moniker to mark Steel’s.

“Maybe we should talk about this later,” Steel pauses, “When-”

“You don’t need to talk about me like I’m not here,” Ronan sighs as they take another chip. The solid wall ripples and they feel a twinge of unease on the edge of their mindscape. 

“This,” He pauses, “Is a… sensitive issue,” 

“That I helped with,” “That’s true,” Ricardo shrugs and turns to them, “You’ve been incredibly helpful and you probably could help us further with this,” And then adds, “And well we’ve gotten to know each other quite well… right Ronan?”

The smile is barely there but Ronan answers. 

And then Ronan feels something spiky for a nanosecond but then it’s gone. Frustration but… affectionate somehow? Steel sighs. 

“Well it’s your decision, Marshall,” 

“But we should probably save this for the next briefing… and it wouldn’t hurt if you got to know Ronan better, you know?” 

[starrypawz]

Orange Sunsets from the sensory prompts

Sensory Prompts AO3 (Another very old prompt in the inbox dealt with)

Another evening, another rooftop.

Another evening where Ronan had received texts that were a variant of “Are you busy?”

Another evening where Ronan had responded (maybe a little too quickly) with, “Not really,”

Ronan can feel the ever present  background radiation of humanity as the late summer sunset starts to creep in. 

This area seems to be the current darling of les riche, nouveau, vieux, aspirante. A playground of hedonism, seemingly mercurial and irreverent. And brings a glittering electric thrum to the background radiation of Los Diablos that constantly pulses through their mind. 

But if they tune in further the thrum takes on it’s callous, paranoid and desperate and makes their brain itch if they pay too much attention.

But then, most things make their brain itch if they pay too much attention to it so that’s nothing new. 

“Aren’t you meant to be down there?”

Down There in this case referencing a nearby club where the thrum of the music can just be heard and it almost matches the thrum of the background radiation of humanity and it’s a little overwhelming.

But then most things are a little overwhelming, what else is new?

Ricardo shrugs, “Probably,”

“You look like you’re meant to be down there,” Ronan eyes him up. He’s dressed in a way that on the surface looks understated, ‘too cool to care’ but to those who know they know better.

“C’mon,” He sighs playfully, “Do we have to play this game?” 

“I mean do you blame me?” Ronan sighs, less playfully,  “You’re the flavour of the month, and you’re meant to be at the latest flavour of the month to create intrigue and yet-” 

“Yet?” He interupts with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re up here with me and not with your people?”

“My people huh?” 

“Yeah,” 

There’s something about that your people/my people that hangs weirdly heavy on the air now it’s been spoken but Ronan doesn’t have time to linger on that as he grins and takes a step closer and gently curls his fingers under Ronan’s jaw and that’s enough to make their pulse kicks up. 

He kisses them. 

It’s soft and tastes a little of whatever probably ridiculously expensive alcohol he’s been drinking and Ronan doesn’t even try to fight the way their body moulds to his as he pulls them in closer, a hand on the small of their back and they rest a hand on that deceptively understated shirt of his that was never intended to be touched by hands like theirs. 

He’s the one to break it and catches his lip as he pulls back and Ronan feels their pulse kick up even more. 

The sunset has no business making his artfully rumpled dark hair glow like a halo. 

“Do you really think those are my people?” 

[starrypawz]

Post your saved saves

btw i can't remember what most of these are lol

[starrypawz]

So I apparently had a prompt in my prompts list for 'kiss in a dream' but could not find the prompt list it came from or who sent it

AO3

He’s here again.  He seems to end up here a lot lately. 

A rooftop, during an orange sunset but it looks wrong, the sky is too clear, no smog. 

He turns and they’re here. That’s happened a lot lately. And he barely dares to whisper Ronan as they turn around and he waits with baited breath

(Sometimes they don’t turn around, sometimes they do and fracture into glass, sometimes they walk and he follows and he follows and follows and follows and he never catches up and sometimes… everything splinters around them and they both fall and he can’t catch them can’t catch them) They turn around. 

For a moment the mask is there, and then it’s not and their hair shifts, it stays wavy but first it’s short and a washed out green, then it’s longer , bubblegum pink with the side shaved (Even though they didn’t keep that colour for long it lingers) before it becomes teal, a half tied up bob and then the mask is back. 

And this time. He kisses them, or maybe they kiss him. It's hard to tell.

(Does it really matter anyway?)

They’re clinging onto him for dear life, shaking, blood in his mouth (His or there's? Can’t remember) smoke and sirens and then…oh he’s kissing them now, teasing, testing his luck, his head swims with just a little too much beer but they’re kissing back and chuckling (And he remembers that kiss tasted of sugar) … and they’re kissing him again and he hears summer wind blowing through trees… (That summer had seemed so long and yet so short) it’s him again and somehow they have him pinned against a wall, hand in his shirt and he takes yet another risky decision  (He can’t remember what the argument was about) a soft kiss not on the lips this time but on the tip of their nose and he remembers their laugh and and….

Ricardo wakes up in a bed that’s too big and too empty with a sigh and a bone deep ache in his chest and blinking away tears.

[starrypawz]

❤️ and/or 🧠 for an OC of your choice? o3o

Ask Game for someone’s OC(s)

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

Ronan Honestly meeting Ortega, it was very much a meet weird rather than a meet cute but Ronan's remained weirdly fond of the incident over the years

(Please note in all the time I've been into fallen hero I've never actually worked out how they met but shennagins ensued)

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

Elio He's a newer oc and not that fleshed out but honestly I kind of like the 'he's just some guy' vibe I think I've given him like he's a metalhead nerdy college student, he's a decent student but sometimes he shows up to classes a bit hungover or stoned, he works in a comic book store, he's from california originally but a chunk of his family moved to indiana and he's jokingly still a little annoyed about it, he still gets dragged to church as an easter and christmas thing and turns up in his battle jacket, he's got a big loving family that basically instantly adopted Eddie the moment they became aware of his existence and had a pretty decent childhood and likely brings Eddie some much needed stability and normalcy

(And home made lasagna)

[starrypawz]

🍀🍕

OC Ask Game

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

I mean other than Ronan being my Sidestep, I think just the inescapable urge to make a somewhat unwilling villain/anti hero if you squint that's trying to cause the least amount of collateral damage possible was the direction I felt like going with and that's stuck.

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

Other than having a pretty intense sweettooth with a particular fondness for blueberry baked goods, sour candy, and cherry flavoured things

Ronan is a lover of potatoes in many forms, would probably live of fries if they could and is very fond of pizza

(And just about anything Ortega and Tia Elena have cooked for them, although that probably goes without saying)

[starrypawz]

For the kisses prompt #33, kissing it better, for whomever?

AO3 Kissing Prompts

“It’s not funny,” Ronan sighs. 

“C’mon you have to admit it’s a little funny,” Ricardo grins as he leans on the bathroom doorframe, “You’d be laughing your ass off if it was me,” 

Ronan turns away from him (or else their smirk would betray them) as they focus on cleaning the grime away from their chin, “It’s your fault anyway,”

“How?” 

“It was your idea!” Ronan huffs, “Oh don’t worry that’s stable enough trust me-”

He snorts, “I… ok fine you’re right,” His voice softens, “You’re ok right?”

“Yeah,” Ronan lightly presses their chin, it’s a little tender but they have a feeling it will pass without much drama. 

And then Ricardo enters the guest bathroom that’s maybe not quite big enough for the two of them and Ronan finds his arms around their waist as he rests his chin on the top of Ronan’s head. 

“Now what?” They try to maintain the huff but it’s increasingly hard not to crack a smile as always they feel themself start to melt in his embrace. 

“Making you feel better-”  He squeezes softly and Ronan chuckles as he lightly kisses and nuzzles the top of their head soft brown waves against his chin, “Is it working?”

Ronan smirks and shrugs, “I guess-” 

[starrypawz]

Ronan "I object to you trying to give me a nickname that's a type of chocolate but somehow you calling me a raccoon is less of an issue" Brown