#the journey of that gif taking a whole minute to load then watching it and then finding out it’s non-looping

[heeleryuta]

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Sticky

Dieter Bravo x f!reader oneshot

Written as part of the Consent universe (set at at unspecified point in time after the series), but can be read as a standalone as I did not include any details of the series itself.

{ Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: After a calamitous day at the beach, Dieter is only too happy to put you in a sticky situation - with a melted Kit Kat.

Warnings: Chaotic!Dieter, dirty talk, food play, dry humping, masturbation (m), handjob, blowjob, public sex, no use of Y/N, very lightly proofread so apologies for any typos

Word count: Under 3k... apparently I can't write anything shorter 🤷🏻‍♀️

Note: Surprise! I'm back from my holiday! Thank you all of you lovely people for being so patient with me over the past month, this is for you! It was such a fun little warm-up for me as well before I resume working on the next part of Consent. I hope you enjoy this little filthy, lighthearted interlude 😉

Thank you @mandoblowmybackout for reassuring me this is not a crap idea ❤️

Dieter Bravo isn’t really a beach person.

Sure, he doesn’t mind looking at one while sipping on a tropical cocktail with a swirly straw, in a jacuzzi on a private yacht, miles away from said beach.

That’s not what you have in mind though, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell you.

You want to show him the local beach, which you say is the only thing worth seeing in your one-horse town. You borrow your neighbour’s beat-up truck so you don’t get sand in yours, and load it up with two portable sun loungers, a faded sunbrella, towels, and a cooler stuffed with beer and lemonade. You even make sandwiches for lunch. PBJ à la Dieter for him (Sriracha over strawberry jam - you don’t judge, it’s hardly the weirdest thing he is into anyway) and a less adventurous ham and cheese for yourself.

You’ve driven the hour-long journey since he doesn’t have a licence, and you’ve hummed to the radio the whole way.

You’re excited, so he’s trying to enjoy it. He really is. 

But.

The beach is a solid twenty-minute walk on a sandy path through the woods. Try walking on sand in Crocs. He’s slipping on sand both inside his damned shoes and beneath them. He’s offered to carry the sun loungers and the cooler, and his favourite faded green t-shirt is saturated with sweat when the beach comes into view.

By the time you decide on the perfect spot, he is winded. Dieter has never been sporty, but even he thinks this is a pathetic performance. He tries to breathe in and out as discreetly as he could and hopes you don’t notice.

It’s another ten minutes before the sunbrella and loungers are set up, and the cooler plonked in the middle, by which time Dieter is positively dying for a beer.

At least the beer is cold, and he sighs as it settles in his belly. This is better. He takes stock of the beach from behind his sunglasses. It’s a charming little crescent of sand and blue water, enclosed by thick forest on both sides. It’s a weekday, and there are only a few other people scattered about. You assure him that no one around town would know who he is, and he believes you.

‘Here,’ you pipe up from your chair, tossing him his sandwich.

Catching your hand, he presses a kiss to the back of your fingers. ‘Thanks, sweetheart. This is pretty great.’

You smile back at him and tuck into your ham and cheese, leaning back in your chair with your legs bent at the knees, your sundress riding up.

He hums happily as he bites into the sweet and spicy sandwich, talking with his mouth full. ‘This is delicious, sweetheart.’

You shake your head. ‘You’re so weird, Dieter Bravo.’

He grins back insolently. ‘Gotta have my lovable quirks or I’m just another Hollywood asshole.’

No sooner has he taken a second bite does he hear an aggressive buzzing approach from behind. He watches in horror as not one, not two, but three wasps start circling his sandwich. 

Two problems.

Dieter Bravo does not share food. 

More importantly, he does not like flying things.

‘Fuck!’ he squeaks and ducks to your side of the shade, sandwich abandoned on the lounger. The wasps crawl over the bread, antennae wriggling cockily as they plant their literal flag on his lunch.

‘Bravo, it’s just a few wasps,’ you chide.

‘They’re killing machines!’

You roll your eyes. ‘You’re confusing them with hornets. Wasps are much smaller and the worst they can do is sting you.’

‘It’s too late,’ Dieter mopes. ‘They win.’

Leaning over, you stuff the rest of your ham and cheese sandwich in his mouth to stop him sulking. ‘C’mon. This will take your mind off the stupid wasps.’

You pull your dress over your head, and you smile smugly at the way Dieter’s jaw hangs open, sandwich and all. You’re wearing your new lemon print swimsuit and you make a show of bending down to fish the sunscreen from your bag. 

By the time you stand up, Dieter has circled his arms around you, hot breath in your ear. He traces thick fingers over the cutouts on the waist. ‘You’re gonna get some really interesting tan lines.’ 

Squeezing a big blob of sunscreen in your palm, you pass the tube to him. ‘Just do my back, Dieter.’

‘Yes ma’am.’

Once the both of you have rubbed in the SPF, you kick off your flip flops and start at a run. ‘Let’s go, Bravo!’

He follows, Crocs flying behind him, but he’s only taken a few steps before his knees nearly buckle from the heat under his feet. The sand is literally burning hot. He watches you splash into the sea. How the fuck are you running on this?

By the time he gets there, he can’t feel his soles, but the water is a welcoming balm. You emerge from the waves, beaming while you stand in the waist-deep water. Without warning, he tackles you, big hands on your waist, and you squeal as he bundles you into the warm sea.

You cough when you break the surface, legs around his waist, pushing your fingers through his wild curls to slick them back. ‘Nice, huh?’

‘Pretty nice,’ he concedes, one hand snaking down to squeeze your ass cheek under the water, making you squirm and hit his shoulder in a warning.

Maybe he can get used to this.

He isn’t sure what happened. One second he’s leaning in to kiss you, and the next, there is a searing pain on his big toe. Letting go of you with an anguished howl, he flails and dashes out of the water, trying to shake free of whatever is clinging onto his foot in a death grip.

Dieter looks down - it’s a fucking crab with its big claw clenched tight around his toe. He dances on one foot as he tries to shake it off, but it hangs on for dear life, dangling stubbornly from his foot. With a mighty swing of his leg, the crab finally lets go and sails through the air, landing back into the water with a splash somewhere in the distance.

‘Oh my god, are you ok?’ you run up behind him.

There is no blood, but he grimaces at the dark purple bruise that is already blooming. ‘You know what, sweetheart? I think I’ll just sit it out for a bit and have a Kit Kat.’

Your face is pinched in worry, and you wring your hands. ‘I’m so sorry, I haven’t even seen any crabs on this beach before.’

Dieter puts on a brave smile that he hopes is convincing. With a peck on your lips, he assures you, ‘Go swim, I’ll wait.’

He hobbles back across the scorching sand. He really needs that Kit Kat and a cold beer.

Except he can’t find the fucking Kit Kat. He turns your bag inside out and checks the cooler. He swears he packed it this morning. Flopping onto your lounger in frustration (the wasps are still going at his sandwich on his, more of their friends having joined in), he takes a big swig of beer, hoping it would dull the painful throbbing in his big toe.

He should’ve brought some fucking weed.

He must have dozed off. He all but jumps out of his skin when he feels cold droplets of water falling on his face. Cracking an eye open, he realises he’s in direct sunlight, with you leaning over him, your lips cool from the ocean as you brush them against his mouth.

‘Did you have your Kit Kat?’

‘I couldn’t find it,’ he laments and pulls you into his lap, your wet body an instant relief from the midday heat. You suddenly frown, looking at him strangely, and he asks, ‘What is it?’

‘Your face is looking quite red - did you top up on sunscreen after going into the water?’

For fuck’s sake. Now that you mention it, his face feels tender. ‘No, I forgot. The sun must have moved while I was napping.’

You turn and glance down at his feet. ‘Your toe looks quite swollen too. We really should get home and get some antiseptic on it.’

‘Sorry for cutting the day short, sweetheart,’ he says sheepishly while the both of you pack up. 

You give him a teasing grin. ‘You’re just a bit of a disaster man everywhere you go, aren’t you?’

He growls and pinches you on your thigh for making fun of him, drawing a squeal out of you. ‘Not my fault that the beach hates me.’

The walk back to the car hurts, to say the least. The sand grates painfully on the bottom of his feet - he’s sure he’s got second degree burns on his soles. His toe hurts so much he can hear it pulse all the way up in his ears, and he’s beginning to feel the sunburn on his nose.

He nearly falls onto his knees in relief when he catches sight of the parked truck, thankfully in the shade.

You nod at the front and toss him the keys. ‘You get in the car and get the AC going. I’ll pack up’

He kisses you on the cheek. ‘Thanks, sweetheart.’ 

Opening up the driver’s seat door, he starts the car, turning the AC up to the highest level. Even though the truck is in the shade, the heat inside the car is still oppressive. He’s about to close the door when he spots something red in the cup holder on the passenger side.

At the back of the car, you nearly drop the cooler when Dieter yells, ‘MY KIT KAT!’

Three seconds later, he rounds the back of the truck, the chocolate bar hanging limply from his thumb and index finger, his bottom lip jutting out. ‘It melted.’

He cuts such a sad figure with his shoulders slumped, sunglasses perched low on his peeling nose. You can even see the purple of his swollen toe through the holes in his Crocs.

Taking his hand, you pull him in and wrap your hands around his neck. Placing a kiss on his cheek, you try to pacify him. ‘Let’s go home. I’ll make it up to you - in the shower.’

That piques his interest. ‘Oh yeah?’

‘Oh yeah,’ you reassure him with a lopsided smile.

He pauses, and you can see the moment the proverbial light bulb goes off in his head. His lips quirk, mischief colouring his eyes as he pulls your hands from his neck. ‘Actually, now that I think about it - there’s something you could help me with right here.’

You arch an eyebrow and echo his words back at him. ‘Oh yeah?’ 

‘Oh yeah,’ he nods. He drapes one of the towels on the back of the truck and pats the surface. ‘Hop on, sweetheart.’

You do as you’re told, giving him a look. You’ve parked up against a thick line of bushes, far away from the five other cars in the area, and there’s no one else around.

You’re in just your swimsuit, and in your rush to leave, you haven’t even towelled your hair dry. You feel a droplet of seawater slide down your front, into your cleavage. ‘What are you up to, Bravo?’ you ask suspiciously.

Reaching behind you, he tugs on the string that holds your swimsuit together, and you take a sharp inhale when the humid air hits your bare front. ‘Dieter - ’

He groans when your tits tumble free, cupping one in his big hand, his chunky rings digging into your soft skin. ‘So pretty, sweetheart. Lean back just a little bit.’

You shift, palms landing behind on either side of you while you lean backwards. Your clit brushes against the soft towel beneath, making you moan. ‘What are you -’

Before you can finish your sentence, Dieter’s ripped open the Kit Kat with his teeth. Giving you a brazen grin, he proceeds to drizzle the melted chocolate onto your chest.

‘Dieter!’ you gasp, eyes wide as the thick liquid drips, slow as syrup, onto your skin.

‘What?’ he asks, all wide-eyed innocence. He tosses the empty wrapper over his shoulder. ‘I have to have my Kit Kat somehow. Don’t I deserve it after the rotten day I’ve had?’

With the flat of his tongue, Dieter looms over you and licks a hot trail up between your tits, dragging the melted chocolate upwards before swallowing with a gravelly mmmm that reverberates in his chest.

‘Don’t I?’ he prompts you again.

‘Yes,’ you answer breathlessly.

The corner of his mouth turns up in a satisfied smirk, before he dives down again to swipe his tongue along the underside of your breast, and a shudder runs through you. His brow wrinkles as he smacks his lips. ‘You taste so good, sweetheart.’

You really shouldn’t be letting Dieter Bravo suck, lick and slurp his melted Kit Kat bar off your tits in a public beach parking lot. And it really shouldn’t turn you on this much. You start rutting your hips against the truck, rubbing on the towel underneath as he groans, his head buried in your chest.

‘That’s it, baby,’ he croons, and you can feel his teeth against your skin as he grins. ‘Doesn’t it feel good?’

‘Fuck yes,’ you admit through gritted teeth, one hand tangled in his salt-crusted curls, arching your back when he finally closes his lips around one nipple and sucks hard. 

‘Jesus Christ,’ he groans, sticking his right hand crudely under his swimming trunks to grip his cock, while he sucks on your left tit, licking it clean. ‘You’re so sexy, sweetheart. Getting that pussy nice and wet without using your hands. Clever little thing, aren’t you?’

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him stroke himself under his pants, somehow not being able to see it makes it even hotter. Your hips quicken, dragging your clit on the hard surface to relieve the tension between your thighs.

Turning to your right breast, you feel his hot breath hit your skin as he laves your nipple with his tongue. ‘They should do a sea salt and chocolate Kit Kat.’

You laugh. ‘You should pitch it to Nestle.’

‘And I’ll tell them exactly how the idea came to me,’ he chuckles, before nibbling unexpectedly on the side of your breast, making you cry out. Your pussy clenches, unable to hide your desperation as you hump the towel with firm rolls of your hips.

Dieter peers up at you from under long lashes, his smile crooked and cocky. You hear his breath coming out in harsh pants now, the movement in his pants hurried. ‘That’s a good girl. You gonna dry hump the truck till you come, baby?’

You nod, bottom lip caught in your teeth, words having abandoned you. You start to tremble as your cunt quivers, and when Dieter closes his teeth sharply over your nipple, you break - a wail caught in your throat as you let the orgasm rip through you, all the way down to your curled toes and your fingers pulling on his hair.

Glancing down at him, chest heaving, you watch him clean up the last spot of chocolate with his tongue, your skin now clear but still sticky from the sugar. He grins up at you, and you pull him in by the scruff of his tshirt to plant a messy kiss on his lips.

Reaching down, you knock his hand away and wrap your fingers tight around his hard cock, making him gasp and rock into your hand. ‘Baby,’ he pants. ‘That’s it, harder. I’m close.’

He whines when you push him backwards with one bare foot in his chest, but he promptly shuts up when you slide off the truck and kneel on the gravel, shoving his swimming trunks down. The intensity with which he looks down at you, curls wild over his eyes, knocks the breath out of you. Pumping your hand up and down on his length, you lick your lips and tell him plainly, ‘I want you to come inside my mouth.’

Dieter leans forward to grip the back of the truck with both hands and groans as you take him between your lips, eyelids drooping as he watches you slide wetly over his dick again and again. It doesn’t take much for his thighs to shake under your hands and for his hips to thrust into your mouth.

His voice is strained and his head thrown back as he babbles, ‘Don’t stop, sweetheart - please, you’re so fucking sexy swallowing my cock, taking me so well. Can you take me deeper, hmm? Jesus Christ that’s it, just like that, sweetheart. Just a little more and I’ll fill that filthy mouth like you want me to. You’re gonna swallow it all, hmm? Fuck fuck fuck I’m gonna come -’

With a strangled groan, his hips stutter and one hand weaves into your hair, gripping it painfully as his cum hits the back of your throat. You moan around his half-hard cock, milking him leisurely. He jerks as if electricity is running through his veins.

Slowly, the tension bleeds out of his body. You make a show of swallowing his cum, holding his unfocused gaze while you lick your swollen lips.

‘C’mere,’ he mutters, pulling you to your feet with an easy strength that never fails to excite you. One gentle index finger under your chin, he sweeps your face upwards to kiss you deeply. 

You can taste the chocolate on his tongue, and you know he can definitely taste himself on yours.

You tap your finger on his beautiful nose that desperately needs aloe vera, your body still crowded up against him, his hands skating over your lower back. ‘Feeling better?’

He shrugs nonchalantly, but his warm eyes and playful wink give him away. ‘What can I say? A Kit Kat always helps.’

[carboysandbikemen]

Use Me Up

Pairing:  Fem!Reader x George Russell x Lewis Hamilton 

Request: “Could you write something about george/lewis threesome with loads of dirty talk??”

Summary: George and Lewis invite you over after a few weeks of flirting, and you end up having a kinky threesome with the two merc drivers. (Made it Dom!George because it's my favourite and I'm insane about it and also just a little bit fruity for some spice.)

Warnings: 18+, d/s

Word Count: 2259 

Tags: fingering, oral sex (fem!recieving and giving), rough sex, dirty talk, humiliation, hair pulling, d/s, sub reader, under negotiated kinks, spanking, unprotected sex, choking, spitting. Honestly it's filthy I’m sorry. 

Masterlist

It’s been going on for months, this thing, between you and the two Merc drivers. Not that you could really call it a thing yet, it's more like competitive flirting with you smack bang in the middle. 

This weekend feels a bit different though. Sure it had started like it always does, Lewis complimenting you, George brushing a hand against your arm, Lewis winking at you across the garage and so on. However, with the double podium finish from the boys something had changed in the air. After congratulating them both Lewis had told you he’d see you later with a strange intensity in his voice, and when you looked over to George he smirked down at you, pulling you into a hug as he placed his hands a little lower down your back then normal. 

Holding your breath slightly, you look down at the text you’d gotten from George not five minutes ago. 

‘Come over to mine. 10mins. Come straight in.’ 

It’s a lot shorter than he usually texts, and the demand makes you shiver. The whole five minute journey over to George's trailer is filled with imagining all the possible things George could want. Maybe this is it, maybe George is finally going to be the first to actually make the move. 

Slightly apprehensive, you open the door, moving inside to see Lewis and George sitting on the sofa, drinks in hand. Not quite what you were expecting. 

“Told you.” Lewis says to George, before smirking over at you. 

“Should have known you’d be a little slut y/n.” George replies, tilting his head back to take a swig of his drink and you can't help but stare at his neck, trying to take it all in. 

At your pause, Lewis comes over to you, placing his hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey, if you’re not into this, it's...” He starts but you quickly cut him off. 

“No! No I am, I am very into this. I just wasn't expecting it.” You say, watching as he looks at you a second, before a smile creeps onto his face. 

“Good.” He says gently, leaning in to press his lips against yours before his voice turns a little harder. “Is George right? Are you going to be a good little slut for us?”

“Yeah.” You breathe out as he slips his hand under your shirt, fingers grazing your hips. 

“Yes what?” Lewis asks, stopping his movements. 

“Yes Sir.” You try and Lewis smiles, although you hear George let out a slight huff of a laugh behind you which Lewis ignores, moving his hands to gently peel off your top. 

As Lewis moves back in to kiss you, you hear George walk towards you both, tensing with anticipation before he finally runs his hands up your back, unclipping your bra and leaning down to gently bite your shoulder. You moan into Lewis’ mouth. 

“Take everything off.” George says, his voice low, a command. 

You begin to move but before you can he stills you with hands on your hips. “Not you.” 

Lewis nods, kneeling and taking your trousers down leaving you just in your underwear. George pulls you back against him as Lewis places a hand on you, leaning up to gently kiss your inner thigh. You’d hoped George would be like this, in control, but you never considered that also extending to Lewis and it thrills you. 

You can feel George getting hard against your ass, and you whine at the near contact from Lewis, trying to buck your hips forward but George holds you still. 

“Now then.” George says, holding you still. “You really are needy aren't you.” 

Lewis hesitates, close enough that you can feel his warm breath on you but not close enough for the contact you crave. 

“Do you want it hm? Do you need it?” George asks, one hand keeping you in place and the other gently skimming your body as he moves his hand up, fingers coming so close to your nipple but again missing it, continuing up to gently wrap around your throat. 

“Please.”

“You can do better than that. Tell me what you need, you little slut?” 

“I need you to touch me please, I need...” You’re cut off by your own moan as Lewis nips the inside of your thigh.

“Can't even think straight, you're that needy and desperate for it. Try again.” 

“I need Lewis’ mouth on me.” You manage to get out, and George moves up to grip your chin, tilting your head back to look at him above you. 

“Good girl. Give it to her Lewis.” 

At his words Lewis slowly pulls down your underwear, not wasting any time in putting his mouth on you. 

“You’re so fucking wet.” Lewis says as he brings his fingers up to tease you but not quite giving them to you. Whilst Lewis eats you out good enough to make your legs begin to fault, George takes the opportunity to slip his fingers around to your lips. 

“Open your mouth for me.”

You do, taking his fingers and running your tongue between them. 

“God look at you.” George whispers into your ear as he fucks your mouth slightly. “Stood here taking it like a little whore. Getting all wet for us because you can't help but be a needy little slut. Drooling on my fingers.” 

It’s just endless filth coming out of George and his words make you moan around his fingers, encouraging him to start fucking you faster. To switch it up he pulls his fingers out slowly, drawing your bottom lip down so that some of your own spit falls onto your chest.

Lewis, who has moved back to watch lets out a soft “fuck.” 

George just laughs and you feel yourself blush. “You’re fucking filthy y/n. I want your mouth.” 

“Come on.” Lewis urges you both. “Let's move this to the bedroom, I wanna make y/n come before I fuck her.” 

It’s so clear to you now that he's talking to George. That you’re here just to please them, and that’s all, and fuck does it turn you on. 

They lead you to the bed, arranging you on your back, head dipping over the edge. It’s pretty clear what they’re wanting, and George takes a second to run his thumb along your cheek. 

“All okay?” He asks and you smile up at him as he stands over you, nodding. 

“Good, let's put that mouth to use y/n.” He continues, guiding his cock into you. 

As he does, Lewis taps on your thighs with a short command of “spread your legs wider.” 

As you comply he leans down and spits on your cunt, trailing his fingers over you before fucking two fingers straight into you, making you moan around George’s cock. 

“Fuck. I think the little whore liked that Lewis.”

“Could probably fit three fingers in shes so wet for it.” Lewis replies. 

“Do it.”

Everything George says is tinged with a commanding tone that you really hadn’t expected and you feel yourself clench around Lewis’ fingers as he does what he’s told, stretching you out around him.

“Yeah, you like that y/n? You like being a responsive little toy for us hmm?” George says, sliding deeper, almost making you choke. He brings his hand up to your neck, tightening his grip slightly as he thrusts in.

“Take it a little deeper, yeah? I wanna feel my cock in your throat.” George tells you, before sliding deeper into your drooling mouth, thumb pressed on your throat so he can feel himself. “That's it y/n.” 

Lewis has taken to curling his fingers up inside you in a way that makes your hips buck up and you fight the urge to squeeze your thighs together. 

“Stay still.” Lewis commands, dipping his voice lower, reminding you of your place here, of his power over you as he pins your hip to the bed with one hand while he leans in to run his tongue along you, not stopping fucking his fingers into you while he does. 

It’s enough to send you over the edge, moaning around George as Lewis makes you come on his fingers just like he said he would. 

“There we go, good girl.” Lewis says to you, fucking you through it as George laughs. 

“Don't know if she deserves that yet, Lewis. She still needs to take us now you’ve warmed her up.” 

With that he slips out of your mouth, his cock wet and dripping as he sits you up. 

“I think Lewis deserves some attention don't you? Why don't we see how well you can gag on his cock while I fuck your little cunt? Think you can do that?”

“Of course she can. You need it don't you?” Lewis says, his voice tinged with laughter. 

You can’t even find the words to answer him, you simply nod in agreement. 

Lewis makes himself comfortable on the bed and you crawl over to him, slipping him out of his boxers and taking in the sight of his perfect cock. 

“God y/n, you’re dripping down your leg. That desperate for our cock are you? Desperate to be a little whore for us?” George says as he runs his fingers up your thigh, collecting some of the wetness. 

Before you can even get your mouth on Lewis, George grabs your hair, pulling it back so that your back arches beneath him and he slips his wet fingers into your mouth, making you taste yourself before he guides your head onto Lewis, and it's all you can do to just take it. 

When you’ve taken Lewis as deep as you can George grabs your ass and thrusts into you, making you choke around Lewis, eyes watering as you drool on him. 

“Oops.” George says cheekily after you moan around Lewis, clearly enjoying every second of being in the middle of these two men. 

With that, George smacks your ass, hard enough to leave a red mark and begins to fuck you hard, grabbing onto your ass as he pounds into your tight cunt. It’s neverending filth coming out of his mouth, telling you how tight you are, how well your cunt is taking him, like it was made for him. 

Every time he thrusts into you, you’re shoved deeper onto Lewis’ cock. Lewis in turn runs his hand through your hair, pulling it just the right amount to have you moaning. 

“Don’t come yet.” George says to Lewis, sounding close himself. “You should fuck her too.” 

“Yeah man, yeah.” Lewis says, sounding fucked himself. “Hurry up.” 

“Shit.” 

This, them talking to eachother as if you’re nothing but a warm body to fuck for their pleasure, is what really gets you off, and you moan around lewis as you clench around George. 

Clearly it sets George off, and he thrusts inside you as he comes, grabbing your ass hard enough to leave marks. Lewis watches him with lust blown eyes, quickly moving from underneath you to take his place as George moves aside to watch. 

Lewis takes no time at all to fuck into you, filling you up once again as you collapse your head onto the bed. Not to be outdone by George, he grabs your hair again, pulling you up and forcing you to arch your back for him as he fucks you with a force you didnt think possible. 

“You take it so fucking well y/n.” He says as he lets go of your hair, slapping you in the same place as George did, the sting on your already sore skin making you gasp and tighten around him as you come for the second time that night.

“That's it. Fuck thats it.” He says as he pulls you against him and comes inside you too, pulling out and leaving you to collapse onto the bed looking thoroughly fucked. 

You roll over to your front as you see George get up to grab a cloth from the bathroom. Lewis however, spreads your legs again, watching as his and George’s come drips out of you. 

“You good?” He asks and you let out a soft ‘yeah’. 

“Good.” He says, “You were so good for us. You did so well.”

With that he gathers some of the come dripping out of you and gently fucks it back inside you as you whine, pushing your face to the side and into the pillow. 

“Too much?”

“No.” You whine out, and he continues to play with your overstimulated cunt, catching any come that drips out and fucking it back into you gently. 

George comes back with the cloth and some water and snacks, pausing to look at the scene before him before he shakes his head. “Next time we need to get you a plug.” He says, almost wistfully as Lewis smiles in agreement. 

This time though, they both clean you up, giving you a merc shirt to wear and some joggers, bundling you up between them as you rehydrate and eat some snacks together, talking through what you’d all just done to check in. 

“That honestly might just be the hottest sex I’ve ever had in my life.” You say, a small laugh leaving your body, as if your brain still can't believe this has just happened. If it was this good the first time, you can't wait to see what it's like when you all get together again. 

[kerie-prince]

daisy cafe

Harry Potter x Muggle!reader

not a request

warnings: mentions of death, ptsd?? (in the form of nightmares)

summary: Harry starts his healing journey after the Battle, and a rainy night after a counseling session brought him into your café

a/n: hope y'all like this random imagine i wrote <3 i was meant to post it last night but i got into a heated debate about ww84 and i don't queue posts so here's this. no lie, i had a hard time writing this lol it's a whole 4k long imagine (whoops) also, when i say 'football' in this fic, i mean soccer lol

(gif cred)

The Battle of Hogwarts.

There was a lot to say about that day. So many perspectives and interpretations from different people. And today, Harry would talk to his counselor about his. At first, he opposed the idea of having a counselor but Hermione insisted that he talks to a professional. Well, insisted probably isn't the word. If anything, Hermione probably forced him into it and made the appointment herself.

So here he sat in the waiting room, sitting awkwardly in an uncomfortable chair. Even the chairs in the Hogwarts classrooms were more comfortable than these. The room was small and had tacky sunflower wallpaper. Harry sat by himself and internally cursed his best friends for just leaving him there and drove off. ‘Call me when it's over!’ Hermione had yelled out through the window.

“Mr. Harry Potter?” a young man called out for him. Harry followed him into the counselors office, noticing that the room was much nicer than the waiting room and the chairs looked more comfortable. And if he was going to be stuck here for over an hour, he better not walk out with back pain.

Harry sat patiently as he waited for the counselor to come. He noticed the golden name plate on the desk with a name written in black letters. Jon Osborne. Harry’s leg was unconsciously bouncing in rhythm with the ticking of the clock on the wall. He didn't think he'd be nervous about it as he was now. He immediately stood up as he heard Dr. Osborne come in. “Mr. Potter, it’s an honor to meet you,” he stretched his hand out to greet Harry.

“Pleasure’s all mine, sir,” Harry said with a shy smile. Once they sat down, Dr. Osborne went straight into it, “So tell me, Mr. Potter, how have you been?”

“Great. I've been busy planning a wedding,” Harry stated like it was a normal conversation. “Congratulations. Yours, I'm assuming?”

“No, it's for my two best mates,” Harry corrected. “They're getting married pretty soon and I offered to help pay for it. Not really doing much of decoration planning, Hermione thinks Ron and I would pick something stupid,” Harry wasn't looking at Dr. Osborne directly, but he had a faint smile as he explained the details. “And are you with anyone?” Dr. Osborne asked.

It made the young wizard think. Ron and Hermione were getting married, Neville and Luna were having fun on small dates, and Ginny was still going back and forth with Dean. “No, I'm not with anyone at the moment.”

His counselor wrote something down quickly before going forward with the next question. “Do you think about it often?” Harry knew what he was insinuating. His breath hitched a bit. Harry certainly didn’t expect to be asked this question so early on. From Hermione’s explanation, he wasn’t expecting to talk about the Battle for maybe another couple sessions. And that was if Harry even wanted to do other sessions.

“You don’t think you need to be here,” it was like he read Harry’s mind. And it was true. “Well, I do have a pretty solid support group. We all went through it together.” Harry rubbed the palms of his unusually sweaty hands against his pants.

“So because you and your friends went through it together, you're okay? Nothing about it bothers you?” had Dr. Osborne’s tone altered just a bit, he would've sounded condescending. He sounded a bit empathetic. It made Harry actually want to talk. “Do you and your friends actually talk about it?”

The answer was clear to Harry. No. If he was being honest, he didn't think there's even a reason to talk about it. The worst had been over, and now that him and his friends and family – and by family, he meant the Weasleys – were finally in peace, Harry figured that he wouldn't have to think about it again.

But the nightmares were relentless. It wasn't like the ones he had when Voldemort was in his mind and showing him things he wanted to show Harry. These nightmares were worse. They consisted of the worst that could have happened that day. Watching his friends die, his professors, his peers. The worst of the worst. And there's one that he hated the most. Being in Voldemort's point of view and killing Harry successfully and for good this time.

Hermione tried to get Harry to talk, but he's too stubborn. So she figured the only way to get him to talk was to schedule this appointment. He was promised confidentiality and listening ears with no judgement. Harry accepted because he knew that even though Hermione would always be there, she would probably say something like ‘You're not alone in this, we're all here for you and with you.’ Ron would listen to the whole thing and suggest getting a drink and food. Harry loves his friends, but it's hard to talk about such things when they've gone through it too. He wondered if they felt the same.

—

Harry was leaving his fourth session with Dr. Osborne. Unexpectedly, he enjoyed these meetings. It felt good to talk to someone outside of his friends. Hermione noticed how he was returning to his old self, joking around and enjoying playing quidditch at the Burrow.

Harry decided on taking a small walk around the Muggle London street before calling Hermione and Ron to pick him up. After ten minutes, though, sprinkles of rain were falling down. And sprinkles turned into hard falls. Harry covered his head with his hands and looked around for someplace to run in. Next to him was a dental office, but to his luck the door was locked. He kept looking and looking for some place to stay inside until finally, he saw a building across the street with a lit up ‘Open’ sign.

Harry looked both sides of the street before running across. He was getting soaked by the second and when he ran inside, his jacket was dripping onto the mat. The place was warm and smelled lovely. Harry took his glasses off and wiped it with the driest part of his shirt. The cafe looked as warm as it felt. There weren’t any guests inside and he didn't find anyone working there. Harry saw the bell on the bread display and pressed on it a few times. After a couple of minutes, a girl came to the front. “Sorry for taking so long, how can I help– oh are you alright?” You saw the puddles of water that were splattered all around the floor. But your worry was with the stranger that was most likely freezing. “D-do you happen to have a phone around?” Harry asked you. He was shaking where he stood and all he wanted was to go home and get into some warm clothes. You nodded your head and went in the back to get the phone. Harry wanted to sit down, but he didn't want to make more of a mess than he’s already done. You came back quickly with a phone and a few rags so he could dry himself.

Harry dialed Hermione’s number and waited for her to answer. She didn't answer the first or second time which made Harry frustrated. They better not be in the middle of it right now. Finally, she answered on his third call. “Hello?”

“Hermione, what the bloody hell have you been doing?” Harry sassed. When he looked up, he saw how you stood awkwardly to the side, surprised that in contrast to his sweet demeanor, he sounded like the opposite. But that was just your assumption.

“Harry? Is that you? Why are you calling from this number?” In the background, he could hear Teddy joyful coos. “I was just giving Teddy a bath, I couldn't hear the phone.”

“Oh. Well, it’s raining really hard, can you come pick me up?” Harry felt your eyes on him still and he smiled awkwardly.

“Of course, are you still in the office?”

“No, I’m– hold on” he stopped mid-sentence and lowered the phone down, “where am I?” It took you a couple seconds to process that he was talking to you now, “Oh, uh, Daisy Cafe.”

“Daisy Cafe,” Harry repeated back to Hermione. “Alright, I’ll be right there.” And she hung up. Harry handed the phone back to you, “Thanks.”

Your hand was warm against his, a warmth he wished he had instead of the cold that enveloped his body. Harry’s legs were getting tired from standing so long and you noticed the shift in his position. “Please, take a seat,” you had gestured to a table. Harry insisted that he didn't want to ruin the chairs, but you didn't mind.

You checked the time on your wristwatch and ran to the back leaving Harry alone. He wondered what you were doing until he saw you come back slowly dragging a large heating machine. Harry stood from his seat and rushed to help you, “Where did you want this?”

“I was going to put this in front of the table so you can warm up. Don’t want you to get sick,” you spoke softly. You felt yourself warm up on your cheeks, somehow shy in this moment. On a daily basis, you talk to loads of strangers and some of them were quite attractive. But something about this stranger felt different.

Harry blinked with an indescribable look in his eyes as he stuttered a ‘thank you’. You turned on the large heater after Harry sat back down and slightly shifted his chair so he could be in range of the heaters’ direction.

You grabbed your keys from your back pants pocket to lock the door and turned the ‘Open’ sign off. “Would you like some coffee?” you offered him. Harry nodded and searched his pockets for his wallet before you stopped him, “Don't worry! It's on the house.”

There was a pot of coffee that was still hot on the warmer and you grabbed a tray, filling it with a mug, creamer, sugar, and a small plate of assorted biscuits in case he was hungry as well. You walked to his table and sat them down. He was in awe of all the things you brought out for him and felt grateful that you would do this for a stranger. “Thank you,” he nodded his head at you with a genuine smile.

“It’s no trouble,” you smiled back. You sat across from him with a mug of your own and sipped on the hot beverage you made. Harry took a sip of the coffee he finished preparing and nearly sighed at the feeling of it warming him up inside. Mixed with the heat that was coming from the heater, he felt brilliant as he usually says.

“Do you live around here?” You started small chat to get out of the awkward silence.

“No, I live just outside Ottery St. Catchpole.” Harry stated. He noticed the confused look on your face, you had probably had no idea where that was. “It’s kind of in the middle of nowhere.”

You nodded in response. Harry then asked if you lived around. After a while, you had gotten to know each other pretty well. He learned about your two cats that are always fighting, you learned about his friends always pulling pranks on each other in the house. As Harry waited for Hermione to pick him up, he was enjoying talking and laughing with you. You two were having such a good time getting to know each other in what felt like thirty minutes, but was actually an hour.

Once Hermione was in front of the cafe and beeped the horn of the car, Harry felt a bit disappointed to leave. This was probably the first conversation he had with someone who he didn't already live with or paid to listen. And it was a bonus that he found you quite attractive. “That’s for me. Thank you… for letting me stay.”

“Oh it’s no trouble. Safe travels on your way home! I hope you don’t get sick,” you waved off as you opened the door for him. Harry ran through the hard rain to get into his friend's car, but once he opened the door to the front seat, he turned back to you. “I never got your name!” Harry yelled out.

“Y/N! What’s yours?” You voiced with the same energy.

“Harry!” You smiled and waved one last time before closing the door and got yourself ready to go home. Harry fastened his seatbelt and held a small smile nearly the entire ride home. Hermione cleared her throat to get her friends’ attention. “How was the session today?”

Harry nodded ‘yes’ in an attempt to not have to talk. Not because he was gloomy, but distracted. He then processed what she said and replied back to the bushy haired woman, “Oh, i-it went fine. Good, great.” Harry was stuttering over his words. It was something that Hermione instantly noticed what was going on. The last time he was like this was when he first met Cho in fourth year. It was nice, she thought, that Harry was not only getting back to normal, but was also focused on something - or rather someone - other than his nightmares.

—

Harry goes to your cafe now after every session with Dr. Osborne. He finally went for his drivers license so he didn't have to depend on Hermione anymore. Ron and Hermione apparate to work anyway, so it granted him more access to the car.

Every Monday and Thursday, you would wait for him to walk through your doors. You would set aside a small box of warm biscuits for him that he seemed to enjoy and remembered how he took his coffee. After a couple of weeks, the people you worked with would give you a smirk and tease you with ‘He’s here~’. One of them, Jo, would constantly ask you if Harry has asked you out yet. And every time, you'd say ‘No.’ only for him to reply back ‘Well, why don’t you ask him out?’

You’ve definitely thought about it, but you didn't know how to ask him. There would be times that you thought Harry would do it before he left, but he’d just be a stuttering mess and leave. So, tonight before he leaves, you planned to just be straight with him and ask him to dinner.

Harry came later than usual today. After he stepped out of the counselors’ office, he checked his hair in the mirror he saw in the hallways. Tonight, he was also planning on asking you out. He likes you and he was pretty sure you liked him too. Once he stepped outside, he saw a flower cart in front of a local bank. Harry debated whether or not to buy you some, but opted out. What if she says no? What do I do with them at that point?

After an hour of having a mental pep talk, he entered Daisy Cafe. He didn't see you behind the bread display like he always had. Jo had recognized him immediately and watched as Harry looked around the small cafe for you. “She’s in the back, would you like for me to get her?”

“I-I can wait. She’s probably busy,” Harry stuttered. He didn't know whether it was a good thing or bad thing that your co-worker instantly knew what he was there for. Is it really obvious? Harry thought. He saw as Jo walked to the back anyway, probably announcing his presence to you. As it turned out, you were in the back checking yourself out in the small mirror that was hung on the inside of your locker. You ran out as soon as Jo said "He’s here" and dusted the flour off onto your apron.

“Hi, Harry,” you greeted.

“Hi,” Harry greeted back. “How are you?”

“I’m doing good, just cleaning up. Did you have a good day?” you asked. Harry nodded his head. He was about to order before you stopped him, “Your usual today?” He gave a sheepish smile and scratched the back of his head, “I come in that often, don't I?” You chuckled and began making his coffee. “It’s alright, I enjoy your company.” The both of you blushed, more so you after the sudden confession.

You couldn't see him, but Jo was listening to your conversation and wanted to laugh. You looked at Harry for any signs of possible rejection and just as quickly looked away to finish his order. Jo came out from the back with his bag and keys in his hand, “I’ve counted the safe for you. Have a good night, I’ll head out.” You nodded your head and thanked god for the interruption, “Thanks hun, see you tomorrow.” He winked at Harry once you looked away as to say ‘Good luck’ and walked out.

Harry became nervous and thought about just grabbing his coffee and going home. He hadn't dated anyone in a long time and didn't know where to even start. Merlin, he didn't even know what to do in a relationship. And especially with a muggle. Harry nearly forgot what it was like to be around muggles after the Dursley's left their home on Privet Drive and Harry moved in the Weasley’s in the Burrow. He certainly couldn't bring you there anytime soon. Especially when Arthur would ask you loads of questions. Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself.

Neither of you knew how to get a conversation going. You took your time stirring his coffee and grabbing the small box of biscuits before turning back to him. You made yourself tea instead, having drank too much coffee throughout the day to calm your nerves. He took the styrofoam cup and box from your hands and purposely brushed his fingers against yours but made it seem like an accident. Your neck stiffened at the sudden physical contact and pulled your hands back. He felt electric and if he let you, you'd grab his hands and keep them intertwined with yours.

It’s now or never you thought. “Do you want to go to dinner sometime–”

“Would you like to go out with me–” you and Harry spoke at the same time. You hadn't processed what he said so you questioned, “Huh? What was that?” Harry thought he heard you correctly, but he asked you again, “Would you like to go out with me? For dinner, maybe?”

YES, YES, YES you chanted in your head. Your heart was warm and you felt a butterfly flutter about inside you. On the outside, you were cool and collected. But your smile could have spoken for you. “Yes, I’d love that.”

—

Hermione helped Harry with looking for nice places in muggle London. George offered his best suit to the raven-haired boy, but Harry declined because he was significantly smaller in stature than the tall ginger, and also because he feared that George would have hexed the suit to either squirt out water, or have random objects falling out the sleeves.

George, Ginny and Ron would tease Harry about finally having a girlfriend, only to get scolded by both Hermione and Molly to stop. “Harry is a perfectly handsome young boy, he should be dating as much as he can,” Molly would defend.

“Ah, but mum, Harry isn't a boy anymore,” George joked. Molly hit her sons’ head with a cleaning rag and returned to what she was doing. Harry had picked a small restaurant that Hermione recommended that was inexpensive but not shabby. He never really liked expensive places or things even though he can absolutely afford them. She suggested that she helped him pick out something to wear, but he stopped her right there. “I can dress myself, thanks,” Harry sassed.

“The one you should be helping is my hopeless brother,” Ginny joked about Ron. He didn't find it all funny as Ron had a sour look on his face and whispered under his breath, “Bloody menace.”

“What did you say?” Ginny stood straight up from the couch and chased Ron throughout the house. She may be the youngest in the house, but it didn't make her any less scary when mad. George laughed at the sight of his siblings fighting while Molly yelled at them to be careful.

Harry finally put everything together – but if he was honest, he was putting together whatever Hermione said – and went to his room. There was still a couple days until the date, but he was nervous. He’s never really gone on a date. There was the night with Patil at the Yule Ball, but that didn't end well. There were a couple hang outs with Cho in the library, but never an actual date. So he hoped that this would turn out well.

—

Harry's breath was taken away when he saw you. You looked absolutely beautiful in the sundress you wore. Looking ethereal, you hadn't noticed Harry across the street parking the car. For a split second, he almost rear ended the car in front of him.

He walked towards slowly after taking a deep breath and held a single daisy in one hand. Hermione said roses were ideal, but he figured he should come up with at least one thing on his own. Your e/c eyes met his green ones and your heart did somersaults in your chest. Once he stood in front of you, you both said ‘Hi’ at the same time. Harry handed you the daisy and you were flattered by the gesture. It was a beautiful flower and you couldn't wait to put it in a small vase and display it at the cafe.

“Shall we go inside?” Harry had one of his hands pointed towards the door of the restaurant. You nodded and walked into the place with Harry holding the door open for you and another elderly couple behind him. He’s so sweet you thought.

The night was perfect; Harry had felt comfortable in your presence. Much like the first night you had met and the times after, you both spent the dinner talking and laughing. This was the most normal, but also best Harry had felt in a long time. He hadn't realized how he never really got to be a young person due to all the insane things he’d gone through his six years at Hogwarts and then before with his aunt and uncle. But here he was with you, doing the most normal thing. Harry’s troubles were lifted off of his shoulders. There was no threat of Death Eaters terrorizing the streets, there was no Dark Lord out to get him; it was just him sitting down and having dinner with a woman that he really liked.

He learned more about you tonight. For one, you were also an only child. Other than your cats, you also liked dogs. And you occasionally played football with some of your cousins. Harry had never played football, but if it was anything like quidditch, he was sure that he'd love it as well.

At the end of the date, he took you to your underground tube station. You walked side by side, hands slightly brushing against another. You walked a bit faster to stop in your tracks right in front of him. “I had a lot of fun,” you confessed.

“Me too,” Harry expressed. You looked down at your fiddling hands while Harry couldn't take his eyes off of you. He was about to say ‘good night’ before you built up the courage and kissed him on the cheek. “Night, Harry,” you beamed at him. Harry was turned into a blubbering, love-struck fool as he saw you walk further and further away. Finally, he yelled out, “I’ll see you on Monday!”

Before turning away into the tube, you waved and repeated his words back at him, “See you Monday!”

—

“Well you're certainly in a bright mood today, Mr. Potter,” Dr. Osborne observed Harry from his seat. Since the date, he’s been talking a bit brighter and his smile is more genuine than when he first came in. “Could it be because you’re seeing someone after you leave?” All Harry could do was smile. “Well I’m very happy that you now have a companion aside from your friends.”

Harry nodded before he replied back, “Thank you, sir.”

“No need to thank me, Mr. Potter. You did this on your own,” Dr. Osborne stated. “Will you bring her to the wedding?”

“No, I don't think we’re ready for that,” Harry informed. This wedding would definitely include magic and you hadn't been close to any exposure of it. “Of course.” Dr, Osborne added. There was a bit of silence after that, which gave the counselor an opportune moment to ask about some of the things that were the reason for his weekly visits. “Do you still have the nightmares?”

Harry’s smile lowered. “Yeah, I do. But not as frequent as I used to have them.” It was true, it went down from him having them about nearly everyday to only get them once every couple weeks. He thanked Merlin you were kept out of his nightmares. He didn't need to see something traumatizing.

Dr. Osborne took notes and set his notepad down. “Well, Mr. Potter. I have seen excellent progress since day one. I think we can move down to just one session per week and work our way down to once every few weeks. I'll see you next Monday.” He opened the door for Harry and shook his hand as Harry left. Harry went to your cafe right after. The daisy he gifted you was on display above the glass bread display in a small, white vase. He hoped that you regularly watered and fed it so you wouldn't notice that Harry actually hexed the flower to never die. You were currently helping someone out when Harry stood in line. Once the customer you were with left, you noticed your boyfriend – at least you assumed he was, now – standing behind a couple of people. He waved at you, and you pointed to the usual table he sat at. It was almost like you reserved the table only for him. He nodded and sat down, patiently waiting for you to finish the line of customers.

Harry was mesmerized watching you work, the beautiful, kind smile you had when talking to customers. Some of them were obviously regulars as you asked one elderly man how his grandchildren were. Once she finished helping everyone, she started working on the usual coffees and tray on biscuits for the two of you.

Harry loved hearing about your day and he wished he could tell you more beyond what happens at home that didn't include magic. He didn't know when he'd tell you about him being a wizard. Ron and Hermione told him that if he were to tell you, you're more than welcome to attend their wedding which was still a few months away now that they have all the time in the world to plan it. He didn't know what to say, but there was one thing he was sure about. He really liked, maybe even loved, how comfortable he felt around you. He liked the way your hands felt in his, your eyes shying away when you looked at him for too long. And he loved the feeling of your warm, soft lips against his at the end of the night when you had just locked the doors and he just went for it. Because in that moment, he wasn't the famous Harry Potter who saved the wizarding world, he wasn't Harry Potter who was recovering from the aftermath of the Battle. He was just Harry, and he really liked being your boyfriend.

At least he assumed he was.

—

requests open!

[fire-angel]

DRAGON HEART

Firebender x ???

Hey guys, just anted to say that if you want, you can request one shots. Also dm me if you want to be tagged to be updated with this series.

Also the parts are somewhat long because I try to fit a whole episode in each part.

Prologue       Part 1

PART 2

A few days ago we left the Northern Air Temple, so much happened in the little time we stayed there. I was starting to get along with everyone, except for Sokka that is, we always seem to argue and maybe it's because he hates me??? Because I was Fire Nation, but that's my past. Anyways, the people living in the air temple gifted me a new set of clothes and even warm coats for my journey to the North. I am so thankful for them.

We are now headed towards the North Pole so Aang and Katara can find a water bending master.

"I'm not one to complain, but can't Appa fly any higher?" Sokka says indeed complaining.

Appa does seem tired, we're getting lower and lower to the ocean.

"I have an idea-" Aang says looking back "-why don't we all get on your back and you can fly us to the North Pole?"

"I'd love to! Climb on everyone-" he wiggles his butt at everyone "-Sokka's ready for takeoff!"

Momo jumps up on Sokka in response to his invitation.

"Look, we're all just a little tired and cranky because we've been flying for two days straight." I tell them and Katara agrees.

"And for what?" Sokka exclaims "We can't even find the Northern Water Tribe. There's nothing up here."

Suddenly a noise is heard up ahead. Ice is moving rapidly towards Appa. We all scream and Aang pulls Appa's reigns and avoids the ice, but almost tips us all off the saddle. Appa then moves as another jet of ice erupts out of the waves, but this one slams into Appa's underside, who drops in an uncontrolled spin into the water. Out of the icebergs several ornate wooden skiffs come to surround us.

"They're waterbenders! We found the Water Tribe! " She shouts with excitement.

------------------------------------------------------------

Aang gets up " There it is! "

"The Northern Water Tribe..." Katara continues

"We're finally here..." i whisper in awe.

The water benders leads us into their village and through the canals.

The city is loaded with beautiful streams, waterfalls and fountains. They pass another boat with a waterbender and a beautiful young Water Tribe woman with white hair, Sokka focuses on her, blushes and tried to follow her by running down Appa's tail.

"This place is beautiful." Katara says

"Yeah, she is." Sokka replied while looking dreamily at the girl from the boat.

I roll my eyes and look away. From what Katara told me, it seemed to me like he was friendly with a girl from Kyoshi Island a few weeks ago. I start to chuckle.

Sokka turns to me with a serious face "What's your deal?"

"Oh nothing nothing" I wave him off.

Later on we were invited to see the Chief because he wanted to celebrate the Avatars arrival. Katara and I finished getting ready and met up with the boys outside as we started to head out towards their palace.

--------------------------------------------

We arrive and we take our seats at the table, Katara to my right and Sokka to my left.

I'm admiring everything around us until i hear Sokka whisper.

"You should probably keep to yourself that you're a fire bender-"Wow is he trying to look out for me- " we don't want you scaring people off and ruining the mood if everything"

Ouch. How can he say that? I feel my skin starting to get hot as I was starting to turn that sadness into anger and noticed I was starting to melt a hole on the table and I quickly took my hands away.

"And what's the deal with you literally burning up like some-" Sokka was gonna continue but the Chief was about to speak.

"Tonight, we celebrate the arrival of our brother and sister from the Southern Tribe, and they have brought with them someone very special, someone whom many of us believed disappeared from the world until now. The Avatar! We also celebrate my daughter's 16th birthday. Princess Yue is now of marrying age.

Princess Yue is walking towards us.

Sokka looks at her with wide eyes.

"Thank you, father. May the great Ocean and Moon Spirits watch over us during these troubled times."

"Now, Master Pakku and his students will perform! " the Chief indicates.

As the waterbending show continues, a figure walks behind us and sits down next to Sokka. It’s Princess Yue.

"Hi, there. Sokka, Southern Water Tribe. " He says trying to act all cool.

Princess Yue smiles and bows slightly "Very nice to meet you."

"So... uh... you're a Princess!” She nods and smiles “You know, back in my tribe, I'm kinda like a Prince myself!" He says

I just couldn't hold it in " Ha! Prince of what? "

Now an angry Sokka looking back at me "A lot of things! Uh, do you mind? I'm trying to have a conversation here!"

With a smirk on my face I mock a bow "My apologies, Prince Sokka."

Sokka turns to Yue and attempts to flirt by asking her to do an "activity" or something. What the spirits

Very smooth.

------------------------------------------------

It's the morning and I'm left alone to wander around the town. Aang and Katara are getting trained, Sokka went to find the princess and I am currently walking up a mountain of ice so I can be high enough to feel the Sun and do some meditation.

I come back to our place at nightfall to see everyone except Sokka is back.

"What did you do today Y/N? Practice your fire bending?" asked Aang.

"No, I was told to not even try that while I'm here, so I just did some meditating"

"What? Who told you that?" Aang asked me seriously concerned "Momo I told you to be nice"

"Don't worry” I laughed  “it wasn't Momo and I understand"

Sokka walks in all mopey.

"How's warrior training going?" Katara asked.

In response Sokka kicks a bag on the floor in anger, falls to his knees, and then flops on the bag, using it as a pillow.

"That bad?" Aang asks him.

"No, it's Princess Yue. I don't get it. One minute she wants to go out with me and the next she's telling me to get lost! So how's waterbending training?"

I sit up excited to hear about how it went, but Katara flops onto her sleeping bag, depressed.

“Master Poophead won't teach her because she's a girl." Aang replied.

"Why don't you just teach her, Aang? " I suggest.

Katara raises her head with a smile "Why didn't I think of that? At night, you can teach whatever moves you learned from Master Pakku. That way you have someone to practice with and I get to learn waterbending. Everyone's happy!"

"I'm not happy." Sokka cuts in

"But you're never happy. Come on, Aang."

They go off.

"Hey Y/N, I’ve been thinking about it and I'm sorry about what I said yesterday. It isn’t fair to you. It's just, we've never had a good experience with fire benders. Katara and I personally, we lost our mother because of the Fire Nation..."

I just listen to his story without saying a word until he finished. He tells me about how his mother died and how they are being constantly chased by the Fire Nation because of Aang.

"Look Sokka, I understand the fear and the hate, I really do. I know how dangerous and destructive fire bending and the Fire Nation can be. When I was young, my parents died giving their life for the Fire Nation and so I was raised by my grandfather Jeong Jeong. Growing up I had many try to train me fire bending but they all quit on me because my fire bending was ‘too different’ and at times ‘out of control’. They thought of it as a weakness for the Nation and their pride.....You've seen it first hand, my emotions is like some kind of fuel to it. I burn up every time my feelings get strong and sometimes lose control over it."

"Yeah, like what happened back with Master Jeong Jeong after Aang burned Katara" Sokka recalls.

"Yeah, I end up hurting the people I care about" I look down and take a deep breath before I continue "With time my grandfather realized how wrong the Nation was and their beliefs and decided to escape with me. We barely made it out alive. My grandfather later trained me to have some control over my bending through meditation. He says I'm more powerful than I realize, and that that's why the Nation didn't want me, because they were afraid or something...but now he's gone too."

"Hey, you have us now. We'll be your family and we can help you." He reassures.

"Thanks Sokka. You did have a point though, I should try to keep myself under cover because if the Fire Nation finds out who I am, then we'll be an even bigger target."

"Yeah, we'll protect you Y/N. I promise" he smiles.

Suddenly Aang and Katara comes in with a face with mixed emotions. They sit down and tell us what happened when they tried to train and how Master Pakku caught them and kicked Aang out from his training. We decided to go the next morning to talk to the chief and try to negotiate.

---------------------------------------------

"What do you want me to do?" says Chief Arnook "Force Master Pakku to take Aang back as his student?"

"Yes – please!" I try to reason for them.

"I suspect he might change his mind if you (looking at Katara) swallow your pride and apologize to him." He says.

"Fine." Katara says clearly unhappy.

"I'm waiting, little girl." Master Pakku smugly says.

"No! No way am I apologizing to a sour old man like you!" As Katara speaks, cracks open in the floor beneath her. She ends up by pointing directly at Master Pakku, her finger almost in his face.

"Uh, Katara..." Aang begins to say

Katara has a look of challenge on her face "I'll be outside – if you're man enough to fight me!"

You can hear a group of gasps

"I'm sure she didn't mean that." I try to say.

"Yeh, I think she did." Sokka replies.

We start to go after Katara this is halfway down the steps of the palace.

"Are you crazy, Katara? You're not gonna win this fight!" Sokka tries to knock some sense into her.

Katara takes off her coat and throws it at Sokka, hitting him in the face "I know! I don't care!"

"You don't have to do this for me. I can find another teacher." Aang tries to reason

"I'm not doing it for you! Someone needs to slap some sense into that guy!" She tels them.

The boys look at me for some help.

"Guys She has a point, I mean if I had a chance to show my old teachers that I was worth bejng taught, I think I would have"

As we reach the bottom of the steps, Master Pakku appears.

"So, you decided to show up?" Katara starts to say but He walks past her "Aren't you gonna fight??

"Go back to the healing huts with the other women where you belong." He says without even glancing her way.

3rd POV

Insanely angry, Katara draws a water whip out of the ground and whips Pakku on the back on the neck. He stops

Master Pakku finally faces her " Fine. You want to learn to fight so bad, study closely! "

He begins to bend and Katara runs towards him but he flings her backwards.

Master Pakku mockingly says "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you!"

Pakku creates a whirlpool and it begins to constrict, but before Katara is knocked back down she swings her arm, almost as if she were swinging a baseball bat, deflecting the wall of water off on a different trajectory. Cut to a shot of the spectators, including Aang and Sokka. The errant wall of water hits Sokka

“OW!”

Katara runs at him with a water whip. He raises a ramp of ice in front of her which she slides up and then back flips off, landing neatly on the guardrail of the citadel steps behind him. Pakku liquefies the ramp and throws it at her while catching her feet in ice. The wave breaks around Katara, however, as she bends it out of the way.

"You can't knock me down!" She says

The crowd formed starts to cheer

"Go Katara!" Aang shouts.

"You got this Katara!" Y/N encourages.

The fight goes on and Master Pakku is still decided on not teaching Katara.

Katara now standing in front of Pakku, but Master pakku sends shards of ice towards her, the shards land closely all around her. She is trapped. She struggles in vain against her prison of ice, her hands and arms unable to move.

Master Pakku walks towards her "This fight is over."

"Come back here! I'm not finished yet!" Katara yells.

"Yes, you are." he replied. He stops in surprise, picking up the necklace that fell from Katara's neck during the fight.

"This is my necklace!" He says with wonder.

"No it's not, it's mine! Give it back!" She tells him."

"I made this sixty years ago – for the love of my life." He continued saying.

Katara's ice prison liquefies behind him, freeing her "For Kana."

"My Gran-Gran was supposed to marry you?" Katara says in awe.

Master Pakku still holding the necklace, sadly says "I carved this necklace for your grandmother when we got engaged. I thought we would have a long, happy life together. I loved her."

"But she didn't love you, did she? It was an arranged marriage." Katara says.

The Princess' eyes water.

Katara walks up to Pakku "Gran-Gran wouldn't let your tribe's stupid customs run her life. That's why she left. It must have taken a lot of courage."

Proncess Yue begins to cry openly and runs away.

"Go get her." Y/N tells Sokka and nod to her direction.

--------------------------------------------------

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please like and reblog. Also follow me if you are a big fan of ATLa because I want to follow back others with the same interests.

[choupichoups]

Press F (Instagram/College AU) Ch.14

Eliott may be all that; rich, handsome, instagram famous— but the basic plebe inside comes out to play when his crush follows him from out of nowhere.

Or: Press F but Eliott’s POV

Parting is such sweet sorrow has gained a whole new meaning as Eliott stands in front of Lucas, bouncing back and forth on his heels in a bid to stall some more before he truly has to go. 

“You really don’t want me to stay with you until Yann comes back?” He finally pushes out the question, brows furrowing in concern despite the reassuring smile Lucas gives him. 

“I’ll be fine, Eliott.” Lucas picks Champ up from the ground when she starts spinning around in place, looking about ready to lay down and have a nap right at their feet. “Go see your mom.”

"I mean... she’ll probably survive one day without eating my dad’s cooking.” he reasons, pouting when Lucas gives him an exasperated look. 

“Bring your mom her rightful lunch, just like you told your dad you would. I don’t want there to be any reason for them to hate me.” 

“That’s impossible, they already love you.”

Lucas pauses, bottom lip caught behind his teeth as he looks up at Eliott uncertainly. “Really?”

Eliott softens, sighing out a quiet, “Really.” His hands move on their own accord, brushing against the line of Lucas’ jaw. He can’t imagine how a single person in this universe could ever be capable of hating Lucas. 

“Really, really?” 

“Really, really.”

“Cool. You really, really have to go now, though.” Lucas laughs, nuzzling into Eliott’s hands like that would help his case. 

“Okay, but if you need me for anything at all, you’ve gotta promise to tell me.” The grip he has on Lucas tightens just a little, firm enough to have his boyfriend tipping his head back to see the resolve in Eliott’s eyes. “I mean it. Anything.” 

Lucas can honestly ask him to do his grocery shopping right here right now and Eliott would undoubtedly agree. Hell, if Lucas tells him that the windows rattling from the wind bothers him, he’d drop everything and run back to him. Eliott has no qualms about the lengths he’d go to protect Lucas, to keep him feeling safe. 

Champ yips, gazing happily up at Eliott as a comfortable silence embraces them otherwise, the sight of Lucas’ precious smile warming the crystallizing fear creeping up on him. The mere prospect of leaving his boyfriend alone for hours until Yann gets back is frankly a no go in Eliott’s books but he understands that Lucas might need some space, and Eliott has his own responsibilities to uphold. 

Fuck if it doesn’t scare him, though. The atrocious start to their weekend has really done a number on him. 

“I promise,” Lucas whispers eventually, leaning up to kiss the beginnings of a frown off of Eliott’s lips. 

Eliott watches him carefully, running a thumb over the shadowed smudge under Lucas’ eyes. He’d waited until Lucas fell asleep first before slipping into dream land himself, but Lucas had already been awake by the time Eliott next opens his eyes— and Eliott is an early riser. He forces himself not to dwell on it, he had been privy to an offhanded comment about Lucas’ complicated relationship with sleep before so maybe this morning is nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Alright, I’ll see you later.” Stooping down for another kiss, Eliott lets this one linger a little longer, breathing in once they pull away and brushing a final kiss to Lucas’ forehead. He peels his hands off of him, squishing Champ’s tiny head in between his palms to make up for how his mind is screaming for him to hold on. “You’ll take care of him for me, right tough girl?” She licks his hands in enthusiastic answer. 

Lucas snorts out a laugh. “You take care, don’t miss your stop or you’ll get back too late.”  

“Yes, sir.” Eliott playfully salutes as he walks backwards, stopping just out of reach before he gestures towards Lucas’ still closed door. “Well? I’m not leaving until you’re inside.”

He’s expecting the eye roll that comes— it’s sweet and fond, familiar. The exact kind Eliott craves to soothe his fraying edges. 

Lucas turns around once he’s inside, grinning at Eliott and blowing an exaggerated kiss in his direction. It’s so ridiculous that Eliott’s laugh is ripped right out of him, loud and startled, echoing in the empty hallways, nipping at the sound of Lucas’ door shutting with a heavy bang. 

All alone, he finds himself despondent, kicking imaginary dirt off the floor as he trudges on with a pathetic pout. There’s no proper way to explain this feeling— they’ve literally almost managed to hole themselves up in Eliott’s apartment the entire weekend. It’s not like Eliott can help it, though, he did just get Lucas back and his needy little melodramatic heart misses his boyfriend for every minute they aren’t together.

He drags himself out of Lucas’ apartment building with visible difficulty, feet shuffling against the rough gravel below his feet all the way through his journey to the bus stop. 

It’s going to take him quite a while to get to his mother’s office without a car. Usually, his father has no problem dropping by himself, but he’d answered a favour for an old coworker out in Lyon and will probably be stuck there until the next morning. 

In a not so shocking turn of events, his mother forgets to take her ready packed lunch to work without his father being present to remind her of it. And obviously that’s an abomination, she can’t go without a homemade lunch Eliott, she’d get so hungry and her brain won’t be as sharp as usual, her work ethic would suffer because of it. Eliott had cut off his papa’s rambling with a groan and a reluctant agreement to bring the goddamn sandwich to its rightful owner just so the guy would stop worrying already. Hopeless romantic runs thick in the blood of the Demauries apparently. 

adam.fk plans today??

idrisomd sleep

abebkhellal oof yeah 

emir.yous buncha boring old men

omarions says you?? didn’t you spend fall break last year learning how to play chess lmao

emir. yous we don’t talk about that

idrisomd shut up emir not everyone is a free bird like you I was editing some stuff and I realized I need that dumb triangle still lol eliott can I borrow yours pls

emir.yous maybe if you don’t procrastinate you’d have more free time I thought you were keeping that triangle??

idrisomd maybe if you shut up you’d get more dates I had to sacrifice it for the greater good

Eliott laughs under his breath, contemplating whether he should add his two cents into the conversation. In the end, he keeps to himself for now, reading through the childish banter that inevitably starts up.

The triangle, huh. He’s glad the bus is mostly empty at present, else the giggling he can’t quite suppress would’ve probably worried some people. Fucking unbelievable, really. It’s ridiculous how it all started, now that he thinks about it. It feels like a lifetime has gone by since then.

Eliott still remembers it, vividly. That moment he set his eyes on Lucas. It’s the week before their new semester officially starts— a Thursday to be specific. He and his friends are scrambling around frantically attempting to maximize their remaining days of freedom to get ahead on his and Idris’ new film project.

“Props.”

“Props?”

“Yeah, we’re missing some props.”

Eliott struggles with the cardboard boxes he’s dragging behind him— they’re saving all the money they can by building the set for filming themselves. The rest of the guys get pulled into the fray, as always, so it’s a bit of a disaster when they’re all going around picking up stray cardboard and styrofoam just in case they need it for later.

“What’s the thing you were talking about earlier?” Abe snaps his fingers, trying to recall everything they need before leaving campus.

Idris jumps. “The triangle!”

“What do we need a triangle for?” Adam asks, fumbling with the styrofoam cups he’s balancing in one hand.

“For that one scene in the forest.”

“There’s a scene in the forest?” Omar pipes up from behind their circle, returning from the storage room where he’d gone to dig out some black garbage bags they can borrow.

“Well, it’s Emir’s backyard but whatever.” Eliott mutters, scratching things off of their checklist. “Can’t we just fake the triangle sounds?”

“Too much effort for a little scene. Don’t you have one at yours?”

“Yeah, but my place is out of the way, it’ll take too much time going there and then to Emir’s.” He shrugs, tapping the pen against his chin. “We can take the one from the theatre.”

Emir gives him a look. “We are not stealing the orchestra’s triangle.”

“Nobody will miss it,” Abe dismisses, already walking off to load their things in his car.

“What if someone tells the director it’s missing?”

“Emir, who would notice a missing triangle?” Idris raises his hands as he talks, incredulous at the question. “When you watch your classic live shows, do you hear anyone go oh, yes, the triangle was on point today? No you don’t, cause nobody gives a fuck about the goddamn triangle, man. Eliott, can you please grab us the triangle so we can get outta here?”

“If we get in trouble, I get plausible deniability,” Emir mumbles defiantly. Eliott snorts, patting Emir on the shoulder on his way out.

The theatre is only a short jog away from the parking lot so Eliott slips through the doors in no time, rooting around backstage for the instrument. He finds the little thing buried underneath a broken flute and a... tambourine?

Single piano notes echo along the walls without warning, and Eliott jumps from his crouch, heart beating fast from shock. He doesn’t run, though, because whoever is out there is obviously not going to spot him if they’re preoccupied with playing the piano.

He’s just about to leave again, grab his stolen goods and sneak his way back out, when the aimless piano notes begin to blend together with effortless flow, a sudden transition tickling his ears so pleasantly that Eliott can’t bring his feet to move along more than two steps at a time. Transfixed, he walks closer to the curtain, curious as to who would play such a beautiful melody so delicately.

Eliott has always wished life would be as easy as the films he's grown up watching— with twists and turns that cause crushing moments, yes, but with the comfort of a happy ending to cushion against the pain through it all. He’s always dreamt of something cliche to happen to him once in his life. Maybe he could win the lottery and live the rest of his life as a billionaire. Maybe he could meet someone so inspiring he’d gain the courage to pack up and explore the world with nothing but a boat and backpack. Maybe he could fall in love at first sight

The boy on the piano is turned sideways but Eliott can clearly see him from where he’s hidden behind the curtain. The smile on his face is plain adorable and the way he’s swinging his feet under the piano (he’s not even using the piano pedals and it still sounds so good) goes straight to Eliott’s heart.

His feet carry him forward, as if entranced, so helplessly drawn into the boy’s gravity—

“Stop,” the boy says, laughing. Eliott stops, startled. “You’re gonna ruin it, Yann,” his angel continues, head swinging to the side where another person who Eliott has apparently not seen is sitting.

The other guy, Yann, laughs too, picking up a violin. “No I swear, I can do it. I took classes once, remember?”

“Yeah, like ten years ago and you quit after two days.”

The two boys giggle at each other and the angel stops playing, attention fully on Yann. There’s a profound affection in the way they interact together, which makes glum little stones fall heavy against the bottom of Eliott’s stomach. 

Jesus, he needs to calm down. He doesn’t even know the boy’s name yet.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and Eliott’s glad he’s forgotten to put the ringer back on. He doesn’t know how he’d explain it if the two boys catch him skulking around backstage.

Eliott runs out of the theatre soon after, remembering how pressed for time he and the guys already are. He tries to put the thought of the boy behind him, making vague hand gestures in lieu of explaining what delayed his return when the guys question him.

He fails miserably.

The bus lurches and Eliott almost drops his phone, fingers grappling for a firm hold on the screen as it slips and slides from the abrupt movement. He still has the group chat with the guys open so the scrabble has him accidentally scrolling up, up, up around a month back.

When he looks down at the screen, he's taken right back to that delightful moment Lucas had unknowingly caused back then.

The doors open and close, one person exiting but a whole crowd entering right after. Eliott presses himself more comfortably into his back seat corner and settles a hand over his mouth, covering the widening grin stretching his lips as he reads through his own moronic words.

Good god, looking back on it now is hilarious, but Eliott will never forget the all consuming panic he’d felt at the time.

Eliott exits out of the chat, frantically scrolling down his barrage of notifications to stare reverently at the one that matters most. 

lucallemant started following you

It’s almost two hours past midnight, with him having just finished up the sketch for the side project he’s working on by himself. He’s been looking forward to falling into bed ages ago but now he’s wide awake, brain swirling with jumbled thoughts and with no hope of falling asleep within the next second.

srodulv when should I? should I wait til later?

adam.fk maybe wait til its not 2 in the morning lmfao

srodulv what if I wait too long and he unfollows

abebkhellal god almighty 😂😂😂 sorry bro no one can help u now

srodulv help me

emir.yous why does it matter? just follow him now

idrisomd he’s probably sleeping so he won’t know you’re a nocturnal beast

srodulv he won’t think that’s lame?

omarions he’ll eventually figure out how lame you are so might as well run with it

srodulv fuck off

idrisomd yeah man you can’t hide lame

emir.yous sorry we can’t help with that

abebkhellal rip

srodulv has left the chat

A bunch of useless hooligans, those guys are. He needs better friends.

His phone pings with more notifications— Idris has added him back in the group chat but Eliott ignores the messages for now, knowing full well that there’d be nothing but more of them poking fun at his current dilemma.

He opens up Lucas’ profile, heart palpitating as his thumb hovers over the follow button. Looking at the boy’s feed brings him the same mix of apprehension and fondness, as always. The latter because he’s an idiot who apparently falls head over heels for snippy little piano players and the former because, well—

I’m sorry, bro. I saw something, I think they’re maybe together? I’m still not a hundred percent on it, though.

Eliott sighs, clicking on Lucas’ latest post, of that guy playing the guitar for him. He scoffs, he can play the guitar too. He can even do the Star Wars theme song. On the guitar and the piano. Lucas needs to see that he’s the better choice over here.  

He lets his screen go dark, closing his eyes as he urges himself to relax. It is quite an ungodly hour to be awake so he drops his phone on the bed, turns over, and hopes that morning comes with a newfound game plan to get the love of his life to love him back.

The good news is that morning does come, but the bad news is that all the plans he comes up with throughout the day are steaming piles of shit. 

“I think I’m in love,” he blurts out, sitting in the basement of Emir’s house. Idris is standing on the couch, trying to cover the ceiling spotlights with printer paper so as to ‘dull’ its luminosity. Adam and Omar are struggling to hold up some desk lamps while Abe holds coloured file folders over the bulb, changing the colour of the lights for the correct ‘ambiance’. Emir is elbow deep in crushed styrofoam pieces.

They all exchange looks of confusion before Abe goes for a hesitant, “Uh... just now?”

Eliott scowls, waving a hand as if they’re so stupid to be unable to read his mind. He gestures to his phone, still open to Lucas’ Instagram page. 

"Oh yeah! Any progress on that front?” Idris hops down, eyes glued to the ceiling as he backs up, slowly as if one wrong move could shake the house so much that his pieces of paper would dislodge themselves. 

“No.” Eliott pouts, flailing his legs in unashamed frustration. 

“Okay, well, have you followed back?” Adam asks, twining some rope around the lamp once they’ve figured out the best angle to go with. 

“No. Shit,” Eliott hisses, sitting upright and immediately hitting the follow button. He’s been so focused on figuring out how to start a conversation with his angel that he’s neglected to think of much else.

One of them sighs, but Eliott doesn’t bother to look up at the sound of it. 

“So what are you gonna do next?” Emir abandons his crumbly work of art, now sitting cross legged across from Eliott. 

“He’s vague posting.” Idris grins, scrolling through his phone. “Ooh, Polaris. When did you even sneak off to take this? That caption though. Much mystery, so cool.” 

“Shut up, it’s an old picture.” Eliott throws a couch cushion at him, then proceeds to slide onto the floor, diving flat on his stomach closer to the guys, as he comes up with the most brilliant idea. “What if I’m not?”

“Huh?” Abe goes to sit on the floor as well.

“What if I’m not cool or mysterious? Would that get him to talk to me?” Eliott’s thumbs are working on overdrive before the words are fully out of his mouth, scrolling down each and every one of Lucas’ photos and hitting like on as many of them as he can manage. 

He looks up just it time to see the dawning realization on Abe’s face. “No!” he screams in horror, reaching out to snatch the phone from Eliott’s hands. “No, you— oh man, you guys, he did a weird thing.” 

“It’s not weird,” Eliott dismisses, trying to retrieve his phone back but every attempt is slapped away by the annoying people he unfortunately calls friends. “It’s called reaching out.”

Idris is cackling, bent over in half as Abe shakes his head in wonder. “That’s kinda genius, though? How very Eliott of you,” Idris gasps out once he’s done wheezing up a lung. 

“He’s getting the Eliott experience way too early in the relationship.” Omar mumbles, curiously going through the rest of Lucas’ older posts. “Aw, cute.” 

Eliott scrambles towards them, wanting to see which post Omar’s referring to despite the fact that he’s seen every single photo twice over. 

His hand slowly creeps up above the phone and double taps on the post.

“Oh my god, someone restrain him.” Adam says, dragging a hand down his face. He sounds like he’s trying his hardest not to laugh which is more than what he can say for the rest of them so Eliott appreciates his effort. 

“Come on, Eli monkey, time to break off from Insta for a bit, hm?” Idris walks forward, still chuckling as he tries to pull Eliott off the ground and away from his stolen phone.

Eliott wraps his arms around Idris’ ankles, almost making the latter fall on his face in the process. “But he’s so beautiful.”

“Yes, yes.”

“His eyelashes are the 8th wonder of the world.”

There’s a collective groan from everyone in the room and then Eliott feels a placating hand patting the top of his bowed head. “Yes, we get it. But you gotta get up now, lover boy. We‘ve got shit to film.”

By the time his stop comes up, Eliott has to squeeze himself past a godawful amount of passengers. He gets it’s break week for a lot of the students but considering it’s a Monday afternoon, Eliott is of the opinion that there really shouldn’t be this many people out and about. 

His mother’s office is a towering structure of reflective glass and one way windows. Eliott pushes at the revolving doors, nods a smile towards the reception desk, and settles into one of the many armchairs in the lounge area. He shoots a message for his mama to come meet him downstairs and doesn’t wait for a response before switching tabs to pull up the film he’s been wanting to see all day. Initially, he’s planned on seeing it with Lucas, knowing that it’s just the right amount of lengthy and boring (for his boyfriend’s taste) to have Lucas cuddling for a nap on his shoulder instead.

But alas, his plans are impeded by none other than his loving parents. Again. He still hasn’t quite forgiven them for poking fun at him being grumpy at brunch after that first night he’d spent with Lucas. 

About ten minutes in, someone walks towards him and sits directly across from Eliott’s armchair, never mind that the entire lounge area is devoid of any other person than the two of them. 

Eliott doesn’t pay it much mind, unmuting his phone speakers just loud enough for him to hear the background music coming from the film— he wants to record the sound and see if that kind of music score would work well for the mini project he’s planning to put up in the future. 

The stranger lets out a faint chuckle but Eliott ignores him, watching the minutes rise on the recording to make sure that he doesn’t miss a single note. Never let it be said that Eliott doesn’t take his films seriously. 

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Violence is never at the forefront of Eliott’s mind. In fact, he thinks it doesn’t solve much, and should be considered as the last resort. But as life would have it, there are always a few exceptions to the rule and unfortunately for his good mood, the sole exception he’s found in his twenty one years of existence has decided that today is the day that Eliott will commit murder. 

Eliott’s eyes flick to where Raphael relaxes back in his seat, legs crossed and fingers delicately twined in his lap— to any outside viewer, he truly looks the perfect representation of an educated, well-bred gentleman. Eliott sees why people are drawn him.

“Fancy isn’t the right word,” he says, just as casual. He pauses the film, music cutting off just in time for him to hear another one of Raphael’s grating chuckles. “Why are you here?” The answer is obvious; pressed slacks and dark suit a dead give away. He remembers Lucas mentioning that Raphael works in a law firm but Eliott needs to hear it, to make sure that fate has really handed this opportunity over on a silver platter. 

Raphael spreads his arms. “I work here,” he answers, smug. “What about you? Someone trying to pin murder on you?”

Funny how he’s asking that, but Eliott doesn’t answer his question. “New York too much for you, huh.” 

Eliott watches the minute narrowing of Raphael’s eyes, taking pleasure in the fact that the guy hasn’t expected Lucas to divulge their story in such detail. 

“New York was great, actually, they offered me a spot there as well but eh, I need to think about it.” Raphael leans forward, elbows on knees as he brings one hand up to rub across his lips, faux thoughtful. “I left a little something behind here.” He looks at Eliott, then, and the latter sees the fabricated warmth in his eyes freeze over, ice cold in barely restrained anger. “I want it back.” 

Don’t mess this up, Eliott reminds himself, fists clenching and unclenching as he reigns in his temper. How he’d love to feel the crunch of Raphael’s nose under his fists right now, but it’s not that kind of battle. Eliott only has one shot to play his cards right. 

“Cut the bullshit,” he responds, surprisingly calm. “Lucas isn’t yours to take back.”

Raphael laughs. “Why, he’s yours now?” 

Yes. “Neither. I’d appreciate it if you stop talking like he’s something to pass around.”

“How chivalrous of you.”

“I’m surprised you know what that means.” Eliott wants to say more, but he grits them back. There are more important things for him to needle out. “What with all the shit you put him through.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Raphael falls back into the cushions once more, infuriatingly unaffected. 

“Do you want an essay or a list?” 

“So quick to believe everything you’re told, are you? Did he cry and look at you with those big blue eyes? He does that all the time to get what he wants.” There’s a strain at the corners of Raphael’s eyes, nonchalant facade slipping down the longer Eliott stares on without a word. “You know there’s no evidence for any of these, right?” 

The quick dismissal of Lucas’ personal recounting almost does it for Eliott. But if Raphael is a master of manipulation then Eliott is of restraint— he won’t let Raphael win. “Yeah? You gonna tell that to the marks on his wrists?” 

Raphael scoffs, “That was an accident. Friday was a big misunderstanding, trust me. It’s called tough love, he likes it.” He smiles, obviously waiting for a reaction from Eliott but the latter maintains an impassive exterior. 

“It’s called assault.” He barely refrains from tagging on a spiteful fuckface at the end of that.

“Whoa there, that’s some heavy accusation you’re dropping!” Raphael laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Do you know who I am?” 

“A sad excuse of a man who takes advantage of vulnerable minors?” 

Raphael clicks his tongue. “You think you’re so perfect, huh?” 

“Far from it.” Eliott shrugs. “But I don’t hurt the people I’m supposed to love.” 

“Well aren’t you just the sweetest.” Sarcasm drips from Raphael’s words. “You think if we both stand here, right in front of Lucas, and make him choose.” He leans forward, a desperate glint in his eyes. “You’re positive he’d choose you? Cause let me tell you, Eliott, that boy is wired for my touch, for my voice, for my own to do as I please, and he will choose me no matter how much I hurt him. He will always come back to me and you can’t do shit about it.” 

Victory feels good when taken by a landslide. Eliott grins, and he sees confusion, frustration, and wariness warp Raphael’s carefully constructed expression into that of something… human. Human, unlike the impenetrable monster Lucas has painted inside his head. Human, who, despite the cunning and intelligence, very much fucks up like everyone else. And oh, has Raphael fucked up big time. 

“My turn,” Eliott says cheerfully, just to mess with the bastard even more. “Do you know who I am?” Slowly, so as to make sure that Raphael catches the movement, Eliott stops the recording on his phone. 

Raphael shoots up from his seat, panic dousing his face red all over before seething rage takes prominence. He hisses out a quiet, “Get rid of that, right fucking now. You don’t want to mess with me.”

Eliott stands, huffing out a small laugh as he notices that they’re of equal height. None of Raphael’s tactics has worked, or will ever work on him. “Nah, it’s the other way around.” 

“Eliott?” 

Georgine Eloise Demaury, part time managing partner of the law firm, part time vicious criminal prosecutor, and full time doting mother, makes a tall, intimidating figure in her navy suit and sky high heels. Her eyes are steel blue as they land on Eliott and Raphael alternatively. The red on her lips is a sharp scowl, striking against the paleness of her skin. 

Eliott presses his lips together, amused at the sight of what he fondly refers to as her working bitch face. She’s forbidden Eliott from visiting her at work too often just because he’s the only one capable of cracking her diabolical attorney persona. He keeps quiet, shrugging innocently when she raises a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Hi, mama.” 

He hears Raphael’s sharp intake of breath and fuck, that feels good.

Her lips twitch the slightest bit. “You two know each other?” 

“Just having a friendly chat,” Eliott says, looking over at Raphael with a tight smile. He relishes the startled loss he sees there. 

“I’m waiting on a call from Mr. Schutt,” Raphael says, rearranging his face, posture straightening under Georgine’s gaze. 

“And you?” She addresses Eliott this time. 

“I brought lunch?” Eliott gestures at his bag on the chair. “Papa got worried you’d starve when you told him you forgot it.” 

She rolls her eyes at her husband’s dramatics. “You didn’t have to come here.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to papa. You’re gonna have to eat it now, I ditched my boyfriend for this.”

“Ah, how’s Lucas? Come up to my office, you didn’t finish telling me how he’s doing last night,” she says, rigid frown compensating for the soft tone in her voice. Across from Eliott, Raphael flinches at the mention of Lucas’ name. “I need to grab something from IT and then I’ll be right there.” 

“Will do.” Eliott smiles, throwing his backpack over one shoulder when his mother walks away. He waits until the click clacking of her heels fade off completely before he turns to face Raphael. “So anyway, I suggest you think very hard about that offer in New York.” 

“You’re insane,” Raphael mutters behind clenched jaws. 

Years ago, that might have stung. Coming from someone else, it might still hurt. But as it is, Eliott revels in it. “You have no idea,” he says, raising his hand for the most condescending pat on the back he’s ever delivered before heading off to the elevators. 

Eliott ends up taking a long nap on his mother’s office couch, tired from interacting with Raphael and his stupid mind games. Sure, he’d come out on top of that one but lengthy confrontations are most definitely not Eliott’s cup of tea. He thinks if Raphael still has the audacity to show his face after that, Eliott will let loose of inhibitions and just start a proper fist fight. 

Recording their conversation had been a gut reaction— he’s not even sure it would help much if push comes to shove. But his mother has quite the terrifying track record and judging from Raphael’s reaction, he knows that too. He almost wishes for Raphael to do something stupid, to trip up the wire on Eliott’s half baked, convoluted plan to take him down permanently. The idea of delving into it scares him a little. He knows shit all about the justice system and Raphael is literally part of the goddamn system. 

Lucas wants to leave it to karma, and maybe he’s right.

But then Eliott remembers the tears streaming nonstop down Lucas’ face, the blank disconnect in his eyes throughout that night. His worn voice begging for Eliott not to let go. The hours spent in bed coaxing for an unresponsive Lucas to sleep just a little, I’m right here. The events of that night have taken permanent residence in his mind, painfully unwanted, but there to stay. 

lucallemant Eliott, I know I said I’d give you all the time you need And I mean it, you can have more right after this  But please, can you pick me up at work? I need you please Please

Call him dramatic all you want, but Eliott’s world comes apart when he reads Lucas’ pleading messages. His vision narrows, the path a blurred vignette, and time slows as if he’s thrown into the fucking matrix. Except there’s nothing exciting or amusing with this development, and his limbs work through honey as he turns and grabs a jacket, shoves his feet into mismatched shoes, and makes a run for it.

It’s not the messages itself that cost him his breath— though those do have him worried out of his mind, unable to even begin guessing as to what would scare Lucas enough to send them. It’s the timestamps that have his heart rattling with unease. The faint chanting of too late too late too late a mournful echo in his head. 

He pays no mind to it when he begins panting, head pounding as the freezing wind bites at him with heavy force, unbothered that he hasn’t eaten much for the past however long. He’s not going to stop until he reaches his destination. 

However, when he gets there, the cafe is dark and empty. You’re too late, the voice is screaming now. Eliott tells it to shut up, paces the area for a bit, and then checks inside the darkened alleyways. It’s empty. He walks the opposite direction, headed towards the parking lot— and there, that’s when he hears the hushed voice speaking.

Eliott swivels around, rushes towards the sound, and doesn’t allow himself to hesitate on the idea that it’s not Lucas trapped in between the wall and that man’s body. 

“Get the fuck off of him.” When he’s close enough, he shoves them apart, fighting against the urge to take Lucas in his arms right away. He has to get rid of the man first. The visceral clutch of anger simmers inside of him, a heat of gargantuan proportions boiling his blood. Eliott imagines this is what one would feel like just before committing a heinous crime.

His interaction with the stranger barely sticks to Eliott’s mind, more focused on the way Lucas presses close to his back. His hands shake with barely constrained fury but he doesn’t move, afraid Lucas will fall if Eliott isn’t there to hold him up. “You can fuck right off or I swear to god.”

The man raises his hands, chuckles ringing malicious as he shakes his head. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

Eliott doesn’t care for his cryptic bullshit. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” 

His smile is visible in the dark and Eliott’s been around enough of those with questionable morals to pinpoint the lack of kindness in it. “Fine.” He tilts his head as if to catch a final glimpse of Lucas but Eliott tucks Lucas in tight behind him— this guy doesn’t deserve to even look at him. 

When the sound of a car engine fades out, Eliott turns around, engulfing Lucas as best as he can, hoping that his embrace would provide a temporary shelter from it all. He knows it’s impossible, knows he can’t do much on his end other than watch with powerless clarity as painful sobs wrack the small body in his arms. He repeats a litany of apologies into Lucas’ hair. “I have you, I have you.” 

Their walk home is silence in its strangest form. Eliott realizes there’s something wrong, he can feel it at the tips of his fingers but he puts it down to Lucas gathering his thoughts and lets him be. 

“Lucas,” he says as the apartment comes into view. “I know we haven’t… I don’t… listen, can I stay with you for the night? I’ll sleep on the couch, anything, I just want to be there.”

Silence. 

Eliott bites his cheek, fidgeting nervously when Lucas continues to not say anything. He chances a glance at the boy beside him and sees him looking straight ahead, expression blank as if nothing’s been said.

“Thanks,” is all Lucas says once they reach the steps to the building, failing to acknowledge Eliott’s request.  

“Lucas, wait!” 

Unheard, just like the last time. 

There’s something really, really wrong. 

Eliott picks at his head, staring up at what he knows to be the window to Lucas’ apartment. He tells himself he’ll only wait until the lights flicker on, but seconds turn to minutes and the window remains dark. Chest tightening, Eliott changes his mind. He’ll wait until someone goes in or exits the building, will plant himself outside of Lucas’ door— he doesn’t care if Lucas or Yann don’t want to see his face right now, all he wants is to make sure that Lucas stays safe for the rest of the night. 

Except the next person to exit the doors is Lucas himself, Champ cradled in his arms. 

“Why are you not inside?” Eliott is familiar with the feeling of helplessness but it always pertains to his own mind, his own body. He’s rarely ever so taken off guard that he doesn’t know how to make it better for someone else. And yet here he stands, frozen with panic, speechless in the face of the one he loves most. 

Yann isn’t home, Lucas is hard-pressed on buying extra locks for their door, and there’s no way Eliott is letting him back inside the apartment all alone. 

“Lucas,” Eliott reaches out, wants nothing more than to cradle Lucas’ face in between his hands, but he’s afraid of what touching him would do. “Come back to me.” It sounds unsteady even to his own ears and maybe Eliott’s having a little trouble breathing, but he’s more desperate for Lucas to meet his eyes than worry about his next inhale. 

Lucas doesn’t. Come back to Eliott, that is. 

The entire walk up to his apartment, and then the walk back to Eliott’s are both filled with a strained distance that has nothing to do with physical proximity. Eliott’s no longer surprised when Lucas doesn’t answer any of his questions but he keeps firing off either way, hoping against all odds that something would click. But it doesn’t work that way, he knows. He, of all people, should know better. 

He tries again once they’re inside the safety of Eliott’s home. “Lucas, are you with me?” Eliott asks and he’s not. He’s not. 

Running out of options, Eliott’s hand hovers over his mom’s contact info, his dad’s, Idris’, Lucille’s— he just wants someone to tell him what to do. 

In the end he doesn’t get to call anyone, as a loud thud comes from the bathroom where he’d left Lucas and Eliott trips over himself in his rush, crashing into the kitchen counter, banging his arms against the potted plant hanging in the living room. 

But the pain from those clumsy little accidents is nothing compared to the sight of Lucas crying on the floor, blue eyes running red from the force of his tears. “Lucas?”

“Eliott.” His voice is so quiet, so broken that it takes Eliott down to his knees, colliding harshly against the tiled floors as he brings Lucas into the circle of his arms. Tears gather in the corners of Eliott’s eyes but he knows for certain that they’re not from the sting of his fall. 

“Don’t let me go back,” Lucas pleads, breath caught between one word and the other. 

“You’re never going back,” Eliott swears on his life. 

Lucas quiets down after what feels like hours upon hours of tears and stuttering breaths. Eliott knows he isn’t asleep, though— his wet lashes brush softly against the skin of Eliott’s neck for every blink. Left without much option, Eliott detangles their legs and carefully lifts Lucas into his arms, a mustard seed of hope swelling in his chest when Lucas twitches at the movement. There’s a pause as Eliott waits for the boy to protest, grumble for Eliott to put him down, he can walk on his own. 

It doesn’t come, so Eliott goes to tuck him into bed, receives no protest when he quietly dresses Lucas in the clothes he’s brought out. Lucas’ eyes remain downcast the entire time, immovable no matter how many times Eliott brushes a hand through his hair, wipes at the tear tracks smeared on his cheeks. 

Lucas doesn’t sleep until well past two in the morning. Eliott doesn’t sleep at all.

“You okay, honey?” 

His mama looks like a whole different person in private, Eliott’s always marvelled at her ability to switch off just like that. Her eyes are all clear skies and motherly affection, no trace of the savage G.E Demaury to be found as her hands card gently through his hair. 

He wants to tell her so badly, but this is Lucas’ story to share. Involving his parents to ask for help with anything is a foreign concept to Lucas and would make this a bit more complicated, yes, so Eliott will just have to wear patience like it’s going out of style. 

“Yeah,” he croaks out, still groggy from his nap. 

“Do you wanna wait for me to finish up here and I can drive you back?”

“Uh…” Eliott rubs his eyes, forcing his brain to catch up with his mama’s words. He checks his phone before answering, blinking while his eyes adjust to the brightness of his screen.

lucallemant Do you wanna come over for tonight? I know we were just together but It’s fine if you’re gonna be back too late though

He thinks he’s actually physically melting just from reading those. “It’s okay, I have to get going now.” 

srodulv If I didn’t fall asleep I’d be begging you to come over anyway

lucallemant You were asleep at your mom’s work??

srodulv 😂 See you soon  ♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ ☹️ ♥️

lucallemant ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️ ♥️

srodulv 😊 ♥️

He stops to get some take out on the way, knowing Yann will be there and would most likely not be so chummy with Eliott after the whole thing from the past few weeks. He figures he can extend a truce through food— the way to a man’s heart and all. 

When he knocks on Lucas’ door, he hears a couple of thuds, some rapid, illegible whispering, and then the door finally opens only for Lucas to catapult himself into Eliott’s arms. The door slams shut behind him and Eliott might just be seeing things but he’s pretty sure that’s a glimpse of Yann’s unimpressed form standing on the other side of the door. 

“Hi,” Lucas breathes out, one arm slung around Eliott’s neck while the other is bent awkwardly behind him, holding onto the wriggling doorknob as if to keep a ravenous beast from escaping.

Uh oh.  

“Hi,” Eliott greets back. “On a scale of Champ to Jurassic Park, how scared should I be of Yann right now?” 

Lucas bites his lip and Eliott can’t help it— he kisses him before Lucas can respond. He means for it to be a chaste touch, but Lucas lets go of the knob (thankfully no longer rattling) and throws both arms around Eliott, pressing closer and opening his lips to deepen the kiss. Eliott lets himself indulge in it but is quickly brought back to reality when he tries to wrap both arms around Lucas only for the take out bag to hit Lucas’ ass with a dull thunk.

“Ow, what the fuck.” Lucas pulls away, spinning on the spot as he looks for the offender.

“Sorry,” Eliott laughs, lifting the bag. “I bought food. Peace offering.” 

“Oh my god, you’re so smart,” Lucas says, sounding genuinely pleased. “I apologize in advance though, he thinks he’s my dad sometimes.” 

“Damn right!” Yann shouts from behind the door. 

“Jesus.” Lucas mutters under his breath. “You ready?” 

Eliott nods, rehearsing the quick speech he’d made up in his head during the ride back to Lucas’ place. All that preparation’s for nothing, however, when all Yann does is look at him when the door finally opens. He looks at Eliott like he’d done weeks ago, when Eliott had taken Lucas home after the encounter with his father, unspoken understanding passing between the two of them as easy as that.

I technically have no right to be mad but I am, Yann’s usually kind eyes are hardened earth. There’ll be hell to pay if you pull that shit again, the look in them all but screams mistrust. 

Eliott nods, hoping Yann also understands his most sincere but wordless response— never again. 

The stare off probably only lasts a few seconds but to Eliott, it feels like an eternity before Yann’s eyes start to squint, one hand reaching for the take out bag that Eliott has stuck in the space between the two of them. Slowly, Yann takes a hold of it, snatches the bag from Eliott’s grip, and sniffs into it. He’s still squinting at Eliott as he walks backwards to take the food inside the kitchen.

“Okay, weird but blessedly silent. I’ll take it,” Lucas huffs, taking Eliott’s hand and dragging him past the living room and into the little hallway. Belatedly, Eliott realizes that they’re headed straight for the bedroom, Lucas marching them towards the door like a man on a mission. 

“Don’t you wanna eat?” Eliott asks, pulling back to slow Lucas down. “I bought that for you too.” 

“Later, I just,” Lucas pauses, his door already wide open once they reach it. “I have to ask you something.” 

Well that doesn’t sound foreboding at all. Eliott clears his throat. “Okay.” 

They arrange themselves on the foot of the bed, legs crossed and facing each other. When Lucas starts fidgeting, Eliott reaches over to intertwine their fingers together. 

“I know we joked about it before… or more like just yesterday actually… but uh,” Lucas starts, looking around the room to avoid meeting Eliott’s eyes head on. “So Marie’s home now and I’m taking Champ back to her on Thursday.”

“Okay,” Eliott says, smiling when Lucas discreetly looks at him from the corner of his eyes. 

“Okay, um.” Lucas takes a deep breath and spills the rest out on a long exhale. “My mom will be there too and I was wondering if you’d like to come?” He’s wincing by the time the question ends and Eliott, endeared, can only stare. “Maybe? You don’t have to. I understand if it’s too early or whatever—”

Eliott brings their tangled hands up to his lips and rains down kisses to the back of Lucas’ palms until he shuts up. 

“I’ll come,” he says, and then after a short silence continues with, “I’d love to.” 

Lucas’ relief is palpable. 

“Okay. That’s… that’s good.” 

“You’re cute when you’re all nervous like this,” Eliott teases, wanting to see Lucas’ smile. Sure, it’s only been a couple of minutes since he’s last seen it but Eliott’s one greedy motherfucker when comes to Lucas. 

“What?” The corner of Lucas’ lips tilts up, but it’s not quite the smile Eliott’s looking for.

“You’re all nice and cute when you’re nervous. No room for snarking or swearing at me.”

“Shut up.”

“Ah, it was good while it lasted.”

“Shut up!” Lucas laughs, kicking at Eliott’s knee.

“Oh you’re kicking me now too, my god, such violence from a tiny human.”

“You’re so dumb.” Lucas pushes at his shoulder and Eliott goes down easily, but not before winding an arm around Lucas so that his boyfriend falls on top of him in their descent. “Such an idiot.”

“Your idiot,” Eliott retorts as cheesily as can be, grinning when Lucas laughs again, eyes scrunched and mouth open. 

“God, do you ever shut up?” 

“Yeah, there’s one way to shut me up.” 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, you’re really good at it.”

Lucas leans down and Eliott feels the smile on his lips. The kisses start off as innocent pecks, short and dry, until Lucas brushes their noses together and teases the tip of his tongue in between Eliott’s slightly parted lips. 

Eliott surges up then, locking their lips together as he moves, sitting upright with his arms still secured around Lucas. His boyfriend goes along with it, easily shuffling around so that he’s sat comfortably on Eliott’s lap, hands slightly cold against the back of Eliott’s neck, but the latter doesn’t mind— Lucas’ mouth is scorching enough to make up for it. 

His jacket gets tossed to the floor at some point and his hands wander inside Lucas’ hoodie, searching for the warmth of his skin under, encouraged by the way Lucas tightens his arms around Eliott’s shoulders when he runs a hand from the nape of Lucas’ neck down to the dip low on his back. The intensity reminds him of their first time— only slightly, because Eliott doesn’t think anything could come close to that night. But he recalls the warm weight of Lucas on his lap, against the wall, over him, under him. Recalls the way he’d jokingly asked Lucas how many fingers he’s holding up. How Lucas had very non jokingly slipped the two fingers in his mouth and licked around them until Eliott lost his mind.

The memory of it has heat rushing up and down Eliott’s body in frantic jolts, melting away his higher functions until he finally flips them over, gently laying Lucas down below him just like he’s always done. His fingers lightly dance along the line of Lucas' jeans and the latter lets him, Lucas’ hands exploring the wide expanse of Eliott’s back under his shirt. 

And that’s something new— not Lucas touching him no, but rather the confidence he exudes in bed. Eliott doesn’t think he’d ever forget the shakiness of Lucas’ breath, the furious drumming of his pulse, the flinches he’s tried so hard to cover up. Eliott’s noticed every single one of them, often pausing to suggest for them to stop only for Lucas to hold him by the sides of his face and mutter a determined, keep going.

Back then he couldn’t figure out if there’s a story behind it, or if Lucas is only nervous about being intimate with someone else. Now that he knows, can extrapolate the details from what Lucas has told him so far, Eliott’s heart is close to bursting with the realization of how much trust Lucas has placed in his hands that very first time. Of how much trust he continues to have in Eliott despite all that’s happened. 

I love you, his touch speaks, lingering and light over the smooth skin of Lucas’ waist.

I love you, his eyes repeat, insistent, hopeless, as they meet Lucas’ wide, adoring gaze.

I love you, his mouth whispers, soundless against the brush of Lucas’ lips, plush softness falling open under the gentle touch of Eliott’s tongue.

I love you, he wants to say, out loud, with all his anxious, fragile heart but what comes out instead is a nearly inaudible, “You’re so beautiful.” 

Maybe someday, he’ll be able to speak as it is. Someday, he’ll work up the courage to stop hiding behind soft touches and pretty words. But as Eliott opens his eyes on a slow blink, he looks down at Lucas and catches the most tender of smiles directed up at him. Maybe words aren’t needed right now. For Lucas, in this moment, maybe Eliott is enough. 

“No, you,” Lucas retorts childishly, arching up to press a giggle into Eliott’s amused smile. 

“This is a losing battle, baby.” Eliott nuzzles his cheeks, nose instinctively wrinkling when Lucas kisses the tip of it. The sweltering heat has cooled between them, replaced by a softer kind of warmth.

“Yeah, your losing battle,” Lucas says, trying to shift from under Eliott’s weight. “Baby,” he adds in a whisper, smile cheeky when Eliott’s head snaps up to look at him. He sputters, unfairly flustered at hearing Lucas use that pet name, any pet name in fact, for the first time—

“Are you being a brat?” Eliott tries to keep his voice stern, but he’s pretty sure his eyes give it away as Lucas dissolves into helpless giggles. “Are you being a brat?” he repeats a little louder, hands splayed widely over Lucas’ sides, curling up where his boyfriend is most ticklish.

“No!” But it’s too late, Eliott’s already found his weakest spots and proceeds with the attack, relentless despite Lucas’ half formed begging in between his laughter. “Eliott, no! Wait!” he squeaks, turning red when one of Eliott’s hands slide up to tickle at his neck. 

Eliott only stops when Lucas, breathless and teary-eyed, pouts pitifully up at him. Honestly, what human being with a heart could resist that? So he leans down and brings the jut of Lucas’ bottom lip in between his teeth, waiting until his boyfriend opens his mouth on a groan before diving in for a kiss. Lucas’ hands immediately tangle themselves into Eliott’s hair, legs pulling up to wrap around him as if Eliott has any batshit plans of leaving the bed any time soon. Eliott’s shirt is halfway off his back when Lucas’ door creaks open.

They barely let up, both expecting to see Yann coming to interrupt them for whatever reason but the entry way is empty. 

“What—” 

Soft, fast-paced panting is their answer and Eliott’s completely unprepared for when Lucas shoves him off the bed with all his might— Eliott hangs onto the sheets to keep from cracking his head open.

“Oh shit, sorry!” Lucas shouts, dragging Eliott back up to the center of the bed. “I just— Champ’s just a baby, she can’t see that!” 

Eliott doesn’t know whether to agree or laugh. He figures responding with a deadpan she’s just a dog won’t go over too well with Lucas so he keeps that thought to himself. With a sigh, Eliott smooths down his shirt and walks over to where Champ is still panting happily up at them. 

“Are you happy now?” He asks the dog, crouching closer to her level and tapping her tiny nose with a finger. He carries her in his arms on his way out to the living room, turning back to see Lucas attempting to fix his hair as if Yann doesn’t already know what they’ve been up to, alone in the room for at least half an hour. “Come on, baby, let’s keep Yann company before he decides to take back my rights.” 

[jonsa101]

Max Goodwin and Helen Sharpe Addressing Their Situationship Head On.

Y’all I’m so sorry that I’m uploading this super last minute. Last week was so busy for me and this past weekend  I got sidetracked by Succession’s season 2 finale. Quick side note; Succession is the best TV show this DECADE!!! As an avid TV lover, I don’t say this lightly. I’m still living off the incredible high/ adrenaline rush from the season finale. NOTHING streaming or on broadcast television compares to it right now. NOTHING!!!! The writing, the cast, the score. It is absolutely incomparable and a fucking masterpiece. If you haven’t already, please do yourself a favor and watch this show!!

Now that I’ve gotten that out of my system, let’s talk about my second favorite show on TV right now and my FAVORITE  TV COUPLE.  Last week’s episode will probably go down as one of my favorite sharpwin moments thus far. In my opinion, the biggest takeaway you should have from this moment is that this is the first glimpse of Max and Helen talking about their relationship WITHOUT SUBTEXT!! This is huge considering that everything in regards to addressing their obvious romantic feelings for each has been filled with subtext.

Unbeknownst to both of them, a major shift has occurred in their relationship where they both seem comfortable enough to be this direct about their “situationship.” In a weird way, there’s a sense of freedom and liberty in their dialogue specifically when it comes to discussing “them” that they didn't have before and as I was watching their argument/conversation unfold, I couldn’t help but think I was watching a couple finally coming out to the open, freely discussing their relationship. In every sense of the word, this conversation shares the same brushstrokes of the conversation they had last season in episode 17 but the dynamic is completely different. In season 1 episode 17, Max and Helen mastered the art of saying so much to each other about their relationship without saying much at all. Anything more than that would have been inappropriate for the mere fact that Georgia was still in the picture. For this past episode though, this was not the case at all! Max literally has gone from beating around the bush with “What if I want you?” to boldly declaring “I can’t do this without you!” to Helen. Helen has gone from “You’ve come to me with these inspiring completely impossible demands and I don’t know who I’m supposed to be” to “You push me away and expect me to understand and then you need me and use your feelings as leverage?” to Max.

Y’all!!! THE GROWTH!

This is the most direct either of them has ever been when it comes to their relationship and in a sense, the political correctness/politeness has dropped off. Max has no qualms in telling Helen that he needs her and that he essentially wants her to put him first and Helen has no problem shutting Max down and calling Max out on his b.s and his blatant disregard for her boundaries. 

Seeing this dynamic between them is such a breath of fresh air and to me makes their unspoken relationship all the more tangible. What I saw Tuesday night wasn’t an argument between two platonic friends but an argument between two people who are deeply in love with each other and are finally addressing said issues in their relationship since the accident.

Quick side note: Can I just say how much I stan Helen Sharpe?! She truly shined this past episode and I have always admired her no-nonsense attitude and her ability to set healthy boundaries for herself with Max. Not gonna lie, in a previous meta last season, I wrote about my worries on Helen taking on Max as her patient again. I didn’t like it for the mere fact that it seemingly looked like she was saying to hell with the boundaries she had previously set for her benefit. There’s a reason why doctors don’t treat their loved ones and as their relationship clearly shifted from friendship to something deeper, I felt her role as his doctor needed to shift as well. I’m so glad that seems to be the case in season 2. Though Valentina is a pain in the ass, I’m glad that Helen isn’t directly over his treatment anymore and more importantly, despite love, I’m glad that Helen continually chooses her emotional and professional well being. It says so much about who she is as a woman and sets the precedent for her and Max to truly have a healthy relationship. Like I’ve always said, Max is the type of person who likes to have his cake and eat it too. Until the accident, everything has seemingly always worked out for him and he’s never had to sacrifice/make tough decisions to get what he wants. If you’re not careful, Max (not maliciously but unintentionally) can clearly take advantage cause most people to bend to his will. He’s done it in previous relationships (cough* cough* Georgia) but Helen is not the one to play with. He challenges her and that’s why they’re so perfectly matched. She’s his equal.

Moving on, let’s dive back into this meta and dive in a little bit deeper into their dialogue:

“I’m not fully here...apart of me is still on that ambulance.”

“I can’t talk to you because I’m trying to spare you. I don’t want you to feel this. I don’t want you to experience this...and it’s not fair.”

What Max says to Helen in both of these moments is incredibly loaded and there two major things that I want to address. 

This is a classic example of the Declaration of Protection trope. 

The motivation behind his “protection” is two-fold. One is to spare her his grief and the second is him wanting to give her his full self because that’s what she deserves!!!

The Declaration of Protection trope usually involves the main character and a love interest and one of the main complications that usually occurs in this trope is that the person they’re trying to protect usually doesn't need nor have they asked for protection.

This is clearly being played out here and once again goes to show that New Amsterdam has continuously set these individuals up to be endgame. For me, regardless of what anyone says I always trust the narrative and what’s being showcased on screen. Secondly, when you tie these two pieces of dialogue together, this is the summary of what Max was saying to Helen. 

Max is conveying to Helen here that he is a broken man. He is a shell of the person he used to be before the accident. He doesn’t want to talk to her because he doesn’t want her to share in his grief and experience his pain. He loves her too much and values their relationship too much to let himself do that. Most importantly, he doesn’t want to bring a shell of himself into their relationship because it’s not fair to her and she doesn’t deserve that. If anything he wants to be fully there! FULLY PRESENT FOR HER because that’s what she deserves. 

Don’t get me wrong. This isn’t Max trying to jump head in first into a new relationship but this is Max unquestionably telling Helen that their relationship matters deeply to him and that he doesn’t want to bring his brokenness into it. To me, the dialogue makes what Max is trying to convey clear as day and all but confirms it when Helen responds with

“None of this is fair. We just tossed fair out the window. Max when you need me I’m here for you, for all of it.”

This whole conversation is so beautiful because, in spite of what Max just said, Helen reaffirms him and essentially says that she’s all in with him. She doesn’t need his protection. She is here for both the good and the bad and is willing to go on this journey with him in the midst of his brokenness.

Y’ALL!! HOW BEAUTIFUL IS THAT?!

Their first deeply honest, in-depth conversation about their situationship is literally breaking ground for a fully developed and whole relationship in the future. The best thing about it was that it didn’t have subtext and for the first time ever when it comes to them, they got to the heart of their issues! Cheers to that and let's hope we get to see so much more of that this season. 

Again apologies that I’m literally putting this out at the 99th hour but it’s better late than never. Lol! Tell me your thoughts! What did you think of last Tuesday's episode? Tagging everyone who wanted to be tagged @abriaashley @bowtothepapergods @lizbeth-perry @liveuncensored @megafriedyouthcollectorblog @grizzee11 @raejustrae @diamonndsannpearls

[yuzurk]

Choi’s Choice - going right down memory lane  Game: Golden Sun 21.952 watching | 192.038.185 total views

“Wassup everyone! This is Yuzu and you’re watching Choi’s Choice!”

Once more the stream starts with Yena sitting in front of her laptop, headphones over her ears as she gets comfortable in her office chair. “Hello, hello my lovely viewers! Welcome, welcome to another episode of Choi’s choice!” With enthusiasm she claps her hands together and folds them under her chin, lips pursing into a smile as she puffs her cheeks up.

“If you’ve been following my tweets you know that today’s episode will be a very special one that I hold dear to my heart because~ I have been elected to participate in a charity project! Meaning that all donations you make today will go directly into charity organisations all across the world! Further information is left in the description on the video- if twitch did it right there should be... a tiny fancy button there directing you to get more info...” Trailing off mid-sentence to read the commentaries streaming in, the young woman smiles when apparently the navigation is easy accessible! 

“Wonderful!” She exclaims finally and turns back to stare straight into the camera with a smile. “So as I was sayin’- it’s for a good cause! So I’m gonna be streamin’ not only one- not two, no! I’m gonna be streamin’ for three hours in total today! And to celebrate the occasion further I’ll be streamin’ one of my all time fave games I haven’t touched in centuries!”

She loads the screen up and just like that the view switches to her in miniature right side corner while the game screen takes up most of the view. Yena sings along to the intro as it plays and reads the title out loud as soon as it pops up.

“GOLDEN SUN! That’s right folks! This game is almost as ol’ as good ol’ me and I love it! Was one of the first games I played when I got my gameboy advance. Those were the days!” She chats on as she sets up the intro settings, quickly going through the title menu. “So our dude’s name is Isaac and I do love his name so I ain’t gonna change that one.” After that comment she falls silent, letting the cut scene unfold that opens the game. A few gasps and “oh no’s” are given when the situation is revealed to her audience but only when she’s actually free to move with Garet in the party does she speak up again, humming under her breath. 

“Oh~ the nostalgia! It’s been like... 5 years since I last played this? Sure the graphics are meh but just... ahh you’ll see!” An alarm startles her up before she realizes what it means and the streamer is tilting her head forward with a laugh. “Right! My set reminder! So this is my timer telling me to remind ya guys to donate lotsa money! Yer donations go to kids in Africa, into their healthcare and education as well as supportin’ the people there to get clean water n stuff! Be wise, do a good deed today! I’ll try to make this stream as entertaining for y’all as I can, okay?! Well then- let’s see what else do we got comin’ at us!”

She’s about thirty minutes in when the intro finishes and despite it being a few years there are still tears in her eyes. “Man... it sucks y’lose yer father right off the fuckin’ badge when the game starts. Old school games really knew how to mess up a dude.” A sigh leaves her lips as she leans back to witness yet another cut scene, a gasp falling from her lips when the newly introduced scholar Kraden suggests sneaking into the holy sanctum. “Y’see- this is why knowledge is dangerous! Curious people be screwin’ with dangerous artifacts, draggin’ kids into their business- damn you Kraden!” 

There’s comments pouring in still, the number of viewers growing as she streams on and the donation counter running on full speed. It fills Yena with pride to be doing something good for the world, to give back instead of cash the money for her own savings. Her commentary is just a tad bit more witty and sassy, the effort she makes to be funny for her audience seems doubled and by the time she’s an hour and a half in, Yena has only just playing through the whole story leading up to the reason they are even heading out on a journey in the first place.

“So far so good- guess it’s only fair we gotta bring the stones back if we’re the ones that let ‘em get stolen, eh? Sucks doe- technically this was all Kraden’s idea, what the fuck ol’ man?! Dun rope us into yer shitty scholar curiosity expeditions and then let yerself get kidnapped! Geez.” Her eyes roll but knowing how the story will unfold she can’t help but think fondly of the old guy.

She stays true to her character anyway and keeps on playing, reminding people to donate every twenty minutes into her gameplay. 

By the time she wraps up they have reached the high city up in the snowy areas and are about to get their forth party member but that is knowledge her audience will find out either by playing the game themselves or staying tuned in hopes for a continuation of her playing golden sun. “Well then! Hope y’all had fun. It seems we gotta stop here. My tummy’s doin’ the rumbles that only chicken can satisfy and I’ve been on air for legit 3 hours now.I’d go longer but I doubt y’all wanna watch me inhale fried chicken while I grease up my keyboard.” Even Yena herself has to scrunch her nose at that thought, quickly shaking her head in the process. As much as she enjoyed the spotlight and as confident as she was in her abilities to make about every activity entertaining, there were limits to certain things that she wasn’t always sure she wanted crossed. Gaming while eating and streaming seemed one of those lines. 

“Alright folks! This is where I wrap up with some quick shout-outs! We start off with @ kingdomcanes for their hilarious compilation of “the different Yuzu screams”. I was laughin’ so hard- geez I do make funny sounds, huh? Next up is @ zoel2312 and their animated art of me flailin’ about as I tried to beat that boss from the last story stream. That’s some good quality art ma dude, thanks! Also I’m gonna give another shoutout to @ vortexbiatch for actually donating 500 bucks! Woah thank you so much, you’ve got a heart of gold, those in need will hella appreciate this. Thank ya so much for enjoyin’ my streams and donatin’ so much! I love y’all, yer awesomely wicked and just... muah! I love y’all!” 

Alas she bids her audience goodbye with a quick wave and her trademark wink before blinking her lid open to frame it with a piece sign. “It’s time to bid goodbye to your favourite lemon~ Yuzuuuu out!”