#the streaks of paint on the keys oh my god

[excelsior9173]

i am not seeing enough of this photo going around and just want to bring it to the dash because it might be one of my most favourite photos ever :)

source

[gghostwriter]

Out of Sunshine

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Having forgotten your dinner date, Spencer comforts his usually sunshine girlfriend Trope:Fluff & Comfort w.c: 1.2k a/n: been very overwhelmed with responsibilities and wants lately that I just needed to write a self-indulgent fic. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

Spencer’s knock on your apartment door was met with silence. It was a starry Friday night and he had arranged a dinner reservation with you, his girlfriend for a year and a half, to the newly opened French restaurant along the main street. With a certain spring in his step, he settled with Hotch, and by extension the team, that he couldn’t be disturbed unless an emergency case comes in—something he silently wished not to happen. He had also picked up a bouquet of your favorites from the local florist. An array of whites that reminded him of the dress he first saw you wearing at the park.

He knocked again, ears straining to hear anything behind the dark wooden door. There was nothing. He balanced the bouquet on one hand and reached for the phone inside his satchel. It was quite unlike you to not answer the door.

The number you dialed is either unattended—

“Strange,” he muttered under his breath. During his morning phone call with you, a much needed routine to tide him through the macabre of his job, you sounded so excited about the dinner he’d planned and had even promised to wear the same white dress that had plagued his eidetic memory. He chuckled in reply before asking any plans for the day. There was a slight pause on your end, no doubt thinking of ways to pass time before night winds down, and you answer—

The studio, he remembered. You mentioned passing by your art studio to occupy time. He sighed in relief as he enters his vintage blue car parked on the the sidewalk, bouquet placed securely on the passenger seat. The clock on the dashboard tells him there’s still time to make it to the reservation, granted he wasn’t sure if you were ready to go.

A non-descriptive tune played from the radio as he turned left to enter the designated parking space of your studio building. It was a mixture of soft piano keys that sounded like spring and sunshine, both adjectives he loved to use to describe you.

When he finally found the courage to fumble his way in asking for your number, the smile that flashed on your face was blinding. It was as if he stared directly into the sun with little to no protection for his vision.

Over the course of multiple dates, he found himself waxing prose about you in his head. The pinking of your cheeks reminded him of strawberries ripening, so tempting to touch with his own pair of lips. The twinkle in your eyes, full of adoration and trust, made him feel strong and protective—like he was some kind of crow guarding his loot of sparkling treasure. And the bounce in your step wherever you’d go had him envisioning a sprig of wildflowers growing from each footprint, the nymph of his very own Spring.

He let himself in the studio, grateful you’ve trusted him with a spare key. “Sunshine,” he called out.

The light inside the four cornered room was on, windows all open for the paint fumes to escape, and there you were, hunched over an easel, furiously painting without any care of your surroundings.

He called your name, softer this time, as if to slowly ease you out of the artistic trance. The timber of his voice and his sudden presence led you to squeak in surprise, paintbrush dropping on the wooden streaked floor.

“It’s me, sunshine,” he raised his hands in front of him in surrender. “It’s me.”

Your nose scrunched up in question, a streak of blue dried paint on your cheek, adorable. How adorable you were in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” you bent down to grab the brush before resuming your old position.

“It’s 7:50, love.”

You swiveled to face him, eyes wide in distress. Hands promptly reaching to turn over the faced down phone. “No, no—oh my god, I am so sorry!”

“It’s alright,” he tries to placate you but his words of comfort seem to fall on deaf ears. “Really, it’s alright. It happens to everyone.”

Tears were starting to build up in your eyes. Your hands were wrangling with the apron tied around your waist as you mutter a series of apologies again and again. “I’m sorry. So sorry—we can’t make it to our reservation now, can’t we? Spence, I’m so so sorry. I—I forgot,” a sob escaped from your throat. “I don’t know what to do.”

He puts down the flowers on the nearest available space, your stool, and steps into your space. Filling it with his perfume and warmth meant to comfort you. He could see how distressed you were—rocking on your heels, hands unable to stay put, and lower lip sandwiched in between your pearly teeth.

“Breathe. It’s completely fine, love. No harm done. Really, it’s alright.”

The tears come rushing down, staining your flushed cheeks with its tracks. “It’s not—how could I forget?”

“Sunshine, it’s okay. It happens to all of us and I know you’re quite busy, it’s understandable.”

You burrow into his chest some more, afraid of separating from him and the haven he brings.

He continued on. “I also know you’re overwhelmed, the exhibit is just around the corner and I know how important it is to you, I understand.”

Laying your cheek near his beating heart, you mutter a reply. “It’s really not—I don’t want you to think you’re not important to me too.”

His hands cupped your face to stare into your saddened eyes. Spencer couldn’t see the warmth and brightness that was always present in his sunshine. There was a cloud of rain and doubt covering its’ greatness. He understood no one could always be happy all the time but it bothered him to see you breaking down from stress.

“Shouldn’t I be the one worried about that?” he lightly joked. “I’ve cancelled on dates so many times and did those ever make you feel less important to me?”

“No. Never,” you sniffled.

“Then what makes you say I’d think that, sunshine? I would never, I promise.”

The corners of your lips lifted up to a small smile. There it was, the rays of sun peeking behind the clouds, bringing warmth back to the dark crevices of his being.

“I’m sorry about your shirt,” your lower lip jutting out in a pout. The air of anxiety slowly dissipating around you.

Spencer laughed, noting the tear stained marks littered on his purple button down. “That’s alright. Why don’t we order from your favorite Indian place down the block? We can get your favorites and have our dinner date here instead?”

“You’d be okay with that?”

He leaned in to kiss your temples, taking in the twinkle back in your eyes framed by your wet long lashes and the flush on your cheeks from emotion—good and bad.

For Spencer, you had never looked more beautiful. The reason behind of your breakdown was raw, intimate, and it made him see you in a new light. Heat bloomed in his chest, like a series of red roses, filled with love for you.

“Anywhere with you is good for me, sunshine.”

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[shotmrmiller]

need simon to be retired and living in the middle of nowhere with a car-fixing hobby, and you're pulling into his 'shop' because you were road-tripping across the country and now some funky noises are happening underneath the hood.

you tentatively walk towards the open garage, only to spot him under some run-down vehicle that has more rust than sun-faded paint, deflated tires, and a license plate that's also got rust gnawing at the edges, the numbers on it barely discernable.

you rap your knuckles gently on the weathered car, and the wheels of the creeper he's on squeak in protest under him as he rolls out to look at you, filthy gloves smearing the dust on his brow instead of wiping it away.

"err, hi. uh, i was pointed this way by some lovely folk that work in that diner down the way, and they said that you could take a look at my car."

he rises smoothly, even though his joints pop as he does, dark eyes squinting against the sun. he towers over you with broad shoulders and thick arms. a tough-as-teak country man.

you start when he speaks, deep voice echoing off of dusty walls. "they said tha', did they?" he lifts the hem of his grease-stained wife beater to wipe at the beads of sweat on his forehead, and your gaze involuntarily wanders to the thick trail of coarse, dark hair under his navel.

"what's wrong with it?"

if you knew that, you wouldn't be here, blatantly ogling him in some decrepit workshop located in a sleepy corner of the countryside. "i don't know. it's making some scary popping noises and figured that it needed to be looked at, asap."

your grimace is involuntary when he extends an oil-streaked gloved hand. you really hope he's not expecting you to-

"keys."

right. you wordlessly hand them over and walk a few steps behind him as he heads toward the front of your car. "did ya get it looked at before your trip?"

you want to snap at him, that obviously you did. you may not be some car wizard, however, you can do the bare minimum for it but he's your only hope for getting the hell out of here, so you press your tongue against the back of your teeth for a moment before answering.

"yes. i did prepare for it. got new tires, an oil change, and anything else it may have needed."

he hums at your answer, a low sound in the back of his throat, and curls his fingers under the hood and begins to feel for the release. your mind is in the gutter as your eyes linger on his sun-kissed skin, watching the tendons on his inked forearm ripple with each movement.

your mind is snapped back to reality when he mutters, "i hope ya don't think i'm doin' this for free."

"wouldn't dream of it. you don't seem the charitable type."

the latch yields under his fingertips, and the hood springs open. "i'd say i'm pretty charitable, considerin' i'm even helpin' ya with this."

your eyebrows furrow, corners of your lips pulling downward. "what, were you closed or something?"

he gives you a small smirk while his hand searches for the prop rod inside the engine bay. "do i look like a business, sweetheart?"

embarrassment burns your cheeks, and your mouth gapes unprettily as you turn around to truly take in the place. past the grease-smeared floors, there's rust blooming on the only workbench in the garage, a single red toolbox resting on the ground. there's a car jack tossed in a corner, a vibrant blue cooler by the door, and a few firearms on pegboard shelves. it looks like a simple garage. a personal one.

"oh my god," you stammer, "i'm so sorry, i just- the townsfolk, they led me to believe that you're a mechanic." how bloody mortifying.

he ducks his head under the hood, bending at the waist to lean over the engine, eyes swiftly scanning the machinery. "it's a hobby. i fix my own vehicles... and now yours, i reckon."

eventually, he turns the car on and listens to the engine roar to life before it begins to pop, standing over the open hood with thinned lips and furrowed brows.

he tells you that he can fix it, it'll just take a bit for the part to get here, obviously, so he recommends staying at a rented cabin in town for a few days— maybe even a week— and he'll give you a ride over.

he gets you there in no time, unsurprising because he drove the motorcycle far too fast— illegal, really. he helps you off the bike, your clammy hand in his much bigger, roughened one.

you rip off his helmet, pushing it into his barrel chest. "please never drive me around that fast again." he gives you a couple of pats to the shoulder, chuckling under his breath.

"unless you're plannin' on walkin' to get your car back, i can't promise tha'."

grrrreat.

(the issue was the serpentine belt, it was slightly frayed but the man kept you around for 2.5 weeks under the excuse of something taking too long, or the car being under worse condition. maybe he charges you a kidney for fixing it, and since you can't obviously pay that ridiculous amt of money, he tells you to go on a date with him. gross. or maybe he's a sane man and he just sends you on your way in 2 days time. idk. installs a gps in your car? keepin' tabs on ya cuz he plans on passing by wherever you live by complete coincidence.)

[mvltisstuff]

hello again, i’ve requested a few times (the feels and sweet nothing) and i was hoping i could request again? (i think i might add an emoji at the end bc i love your writing and will keep requesting as much as you allow ❤️❤️) anyway, i hope you’re doing well and things are going good.

i was wondering if i could request a buck fic where is partner is an artist and he finds a sketchbook of sketches of him and when he asks about it they talk about how pretty he is and how deserves to be appreciated and just making him feel super loved with it. thank you if you get to it and ofc no troubles if you don’t. take care 🥰

also is 🚒 good for a way to recognize me??

wasteland, baby! - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

a/n: omg you always have such creative ideas! i love receiving requests so always feel free :)) 🚒 = ❤️‍🔥 i also won’t be posting as frequently for the next few weeks due to finals, but after that i’ll be posting a ton!!

buck had come over to y/n’s apartment after his shift for dinner, and the scent of thick acrylic paint and primer had stung at his nostrils. he began to love the smell, as he knew that it meant she was around. he had let himself in with his key, taking in all of the perfectly placed plants and artwork on the walls.

she had a canvas that was almost complete, with just a few finishing touches. buck had walked over to it to examine. her talent was extraordinary. he knew it was out of this world, and the way she was so proud of her pieces his made his heart swell up with love.

“hi, buck!” y/n says, beginning to walk out of the hallway from her room to her art. she was wearing a pair of dark green pants and a white t-shirt which somehow complimented her beautifully. her face had small specks of blue and red on her cheeks and black and grey streaks on her shirt. “sorry it’s such a mess in here, but doesn’t this look great?”

“no, don’t worry about the mess, but how long did that take? it’s amazing!” buck stutters a big, not being able to comprehend how art like that could come out of her hands.

“thank you, love,” she replies, taking his belongings and placing them down for him. “how was work today? anything good?”

“just a normal old day, but you know it’s the 118.”

“it is never normal at the 118,” y/n smiles and gives him a cheek kiss before going to wipe her face off. buck goes to sit down in her living room on the couch, and she follows behind him with a quick change of shirt. she placed a small pizza in the oven to cook for them, and cuddled up next to him while they told each other stories about their day.

“it was wild, y/n,” buck starts. “i mean this woman literally rose from the dead after like 15 minutes, after being under a street. oh! you’re going to love this- and we saved some puppies in a sewer.”

“oh my god, are they ok?”

“they’re all fine, but i’m not sure if we are right now.”

“what do you mean?” she asks, slowly and carefully.

“you don’t smell something burning?”

she takes a deep inhale and looks over to her smokey kitchen. it wasn’t too bad, but definitely enough to make it inedible. “shit! fuck, i forgot about it!” she says, bouncing the pan up and down while trying not to burn herself.

y/n was busy discarding of the pizza when buck looked over at her with joy. he had a cheeky smile on his face and was laughing at the forgetfulness of both of them. he looked back down in front of him and the coffee table, and he saw a book that y/n always has on her. she brings it to work, to her family, anywhere she goes, she has it. it was her beloved sketchbook, filled with hundreds of small doodles and big pieces. buck has seen a lot of things in it, admiring each one before he comes across a bookmarked section.

when he flips the pages of the book, he notices that the person that is sketched and shaded looks particularly familiar. he makes note of the sharp nose and soft, but hard jaw. he sees the famous birthmark on the side of his face. he’s never looking right on, though. he’s always focused on something or has a light grin on his face. buck knows these are of him, but he doesn’t think he had any importance to be the top drawing in her book.

y/n walks back in to greet her boyfriend, “i think we might just have to ord-“ she looks at the sketches that she had put on that paper. a heat rose up into her face, reddening her cheeks and making her feel a sense of embarrassment.

“a-are these me?” buck asks, quietly. y/n nods, slowly, praying that she didn’t make him uncomfortable and that she will see him again tomorrow. “i-um..”

“you don’t have to say anything, buck. i never meant for you to see those and if you don’t like them, i’ll never do it again i swear. you just, you’re so beautiful, buck. and i love to draw beautiful things.”

“i just don’t know what to say, these are so good. i feel like you know me more than i know myself,” he says, chuckling a bit.

“you like ‘em?”

“i love them,” buck says.

“good, i just couldnt stop myself. you are always so pretty, no matter what and i want you to know that, so i tried to convey it through this. i was going to show you eventually, but i wanted to do more.”

“why me, though? you could draw anyone,” buck asks.

“no one else is you! you might have a pretty face and all but there is really nothing more beautiful than your soul. you are filled with so much love and sweetness and i’ve been dying to find a way to show you, because you are loved, evan. i love you and i wanted to put my two favorite things together. not a day goes by where i have anything but love for you.”

suddenly, the feeling in bucks chest is rising stronger, feeling like it’s going to burst. when it does, he has strong riptides of tears in his eyes. with a pure smile on his face, he passionately leaves a kiss on her lips, and he feels loved for the first time.

growing up, his parents never showed him love. he always begged for it from everyone he knew, and now he feels like it isn’t deserved. but someone, y/n made him feel like he will forever be worthy of love. and he will never forget how she fixed him for the best.

[beneathashadytree]

THREE’S A CROWD - TSUKISHIMA KEI X READER X YAMAGUCHI TADASHI

Warnings : NSFW below the cut, this is set after the timeskip, threesome, marking kink, making out, manhandling, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dacryphilia, biting, masturbation, riding & penetration, TsukkiYama is so real in this, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : actual filth smut

Word count : 1.0K words

Additional notes : This has been in my drafts for 3 years, no joke. Can you tell I love these two a ridiculous amount?

Tip jar if you’d like to buy me a Ko-Fi!

Masterlist

No matter what you do, don’t think of Tsukishima Kei

Don’t think of how cuddling him would feel like heaven on earth, given how his long legs always end up entwined with yours, and how his warm torso would completely envelope yours

Don’t think of how his arms would fit so nicely around you, pulling you closer to him so his deft fingers could trace circles on your hips oh-so-softly

Don’t think of how he has really soft hair that curls with the heat of the summer, or how he laughs real pretty and delicate whenever you comb through those tiny hairs curled at the nape of his neck

Don’t think of how he’d always get that somehow-sweet, half-smile of his whenever he’s asleep, or how he’d subconsciously hum from the back of his throat and tug you impossibly close whenever you shift in your slumber

Don’t think of how he’d trail kisses down your neck, all the way down to your shoulder and slipping off your pyjama’s strap, punctuating every open-mouthed kiss with little sighs and pretty little half-moans, because God, you just smell so good—

Don’t think of how he can’t help the low, “Morning,” he whispers into your skin that’s already painted in hues of red and purple, all thanks to his early morning insatiability

And absolutely do NOT think of how he’s got such a filthy mouth on him, and would always groan out breathy curses whenever he’s fucking you into the mattress, your hair being tugged at firmly in his grip, as long fingers curl around your wrists and pin you down, so you take it so well like you always do

Don’t think of how he would invite Yamaguchi over one night for “a little something in his room”, the promise of wickedness in his amber eyes as he glances back at you, building that tingling anticipation inside you

Don’t think of how he’d get a show out of sitting and watching his best friend of almost twenty years make out with you and run his fingers through your hair like he often did in bed

Don’t think of how turned on he’d be, listening to Tadashi’s little whimpers and seeing how his fingers dig into your thighs, because fuck it, how many times has he not-so-secretly wanted to see him so fucked out, and how many nights has he fantasized of you looking dazed with the pleasure someone else he adored gifted you?

Don’t think of how he would finally curl a dainty finger in his direction, or how Tadashi wouldn’t help fucking moaning out loud, because holy shit, does the blonde look absolutely divine with his pretty cock pulled out and weeping in his palm, and his tongue wetting his soft lips—

Don’t think of how Tadashi would pant and roll his hips in place, as he’s dreamed of feeling every inch of the taller man since even before graduation, and having you in his lap, looking like you’re fucking asking for it, is slowly killing him with sheer unrestrained lust, and has him pushing his leaking clothed cock against your warmth

Don’t think of how it would take less than a second of electric eye contact between the two for them to agree that they’re both desperate for a threesome that you seem more than willing to partake in, if the quivering begs and the tears streaking down your cheeks were anything to go by

And don’t you dare think of how Tsukki would let you watch him reduce Tadashi to a sobbing, writhing mess underneath him, fingers curled around his freckled neck, and the entirety of his flushed chest littered in sloppy bite marks and bruising kisses

Don’t think of how they would definitely put on a show for you, or how the way Tsukki would look straight into your eyes every so often, a divilish glint in his eyes and a smirk on that otherwise-innocent-looking face, just shows that he wants you to see it all

Don’t think of how he’d specifically want you to see how Tadashi’s thighs are trembling with every thrust; want you to hear the string of filthy curses falling from his own lips, because fuck, does his only best friend take him perfectly to the hilt, and with such a pretty face too—

Don’t think of how you’d squirm in your seat, barely able to hide the wet spot of your growing arousal and trying to get any friction to ease that ache inside of you, small whimpers hidden behind the hand covering your mouth, and wishing you were the one Tsukki reduced to a babbling, drooly mess that could feel nothing but the way he was pounding into them mercilessly

Don’t think of how Tadashi had always been looking at you with longing, lustful eyes, wishing he’d feel your damp skin flush against his, wishing your cute lips were wrapped around his hard cock, wishing your hands would grip his arms as he pins you down, wishing your eyes would be trained on him drilling in and out of you like he was a man starved, wishing you’d pull on his long hair and eat the fucked-silly moans straight from his mouth

Don’t think of how despite you weren’t currently doing all of that, the way you were currently looking at the sloppy mess he was in right now—like you did want all the same things sometime down the line—made him cry out your name loud with his verdant eyes squeezed shut and chest heaving with every pant

Don’t think of the fact that that single glance at your wanting gaze would have him unable to stop himself from cumming untouched all over his stomach, even though he knew that Tsukki would later punish him for cumming before he'd given him permission to, or before he’d painted his insides white

What’s that? Are you thinking of it all and still asking for more?

Well, that’s definitely what Tadashi would say between pants, making grabby hands at you, hoping you'd come and sit on top of him, taking his entire length inside you and fucking yourself on his cock—the way he'd always pictured in his filthiest dreams and jacked off to

Taglist: @mrsgiovanna @the-foreigner

[wannab-urs]

Carry Me

This is a request fill for @atinylittlepain <3

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x student therapist!reader

Summary: You’re overwhelmed. Being a student at a very rigorous university and interning as a therapist for the local DV clinic is all getting to be too much. You’re on the verge of a nervous breakdown for real, but Dieter is there to lighten some of the burden.

Warnings/Content: hurt/comfort, a rare non smut fic, general anxiety and frustration about being a student therapist, Dieter being kind of an idiot, brief mention of SA and DV (literally just the acronyms, no description whatsoever), Dieter is able to pick you up, Dieter calls you Shrink and baby, you and Dieter are roughly the same age, brief mention of oral f!receiving, no use of Y/N, WC: ~1200

Notes: Thank you so much to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and @theywhowriteandknowthings for the beta read <3 Love y'all bunches. I was so excited to write this fic AHHH

Dieter Bravo Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

But you can carry me / I’m not heavy / I’ll grow extra arms / To hold onto your body Dig my fingernails / Into your shoulder / And you’re so steady /And you don’t tip over - Carry Me by Crooks and Nannies

You get home and look up at the stairs which have quite possibly never felt so daunting as they do right now. You had class from 8 this morning until noon, a 30 minute break in which you scarfed down some trail mix you found in your car and drove to the clinic, and then an extremely emotionally draining 4 hours of leading group SA and DV survivor therapy sessions followed by another 2 hours of paperwork. 

So now, roughly 12 hours after you left your apartment, you’re standing at the bottom of your stairs, feeling weighed down by your bag and by your life in general and dreading what you might find at the top. 

When you finally do make it upstairs, slip the key into the lock, push the door open, you’re desperately (delusionally) hoping to find a clean apartment. Maybe he cooked you dinner? Maybe he cleaned the living room and lit a candle? Maybe the bed is made and the laundry is put away? 

Of fucking course not. 

Dieter is sitting upside down on the couch, feet in the air and his head dangling off the cushion. He’s got a paintbrush in his teeth and a canvas propped against the coffee table. There’s a pile of laundry in the corner by the bed, dishes stacked precariously in the sink… 

“Dieter. What the fuck are you doing?” He drops the paintbrush from his teeth and you watch it clatter across the hardwood. Add paint on the floor to the pile of bullshit being heaped onto you today. 

“Painting!” He looks positively gleeful for a moment, but then he takes in your sagging shoulders, your wobbling lip, the way your eyes glint with tears. “Shrink? Baby, you okay?” Dieter does a surprisingly agile maneuver, rolling off the couch and onto his feet just as your chest starts heaving and the tears start to spill over. 

He crosses the room quickly, takes your bag and sets it on the floor of the entryway, wraps his big arms around you and pulls you into his chest. You crumple into him, letting him finally take your weight. He buries his nose in your hair, cradles your head to his chest and supports you with an arm wrapped tightly around your waist. Broken sobs and gasps for air are all you can manage, but he doesn’t ask you questions. He just whispers that everything is going to be okay, that he loves you, that you’re so strong. 

After a few minutes, you’re more sniffling than sobbing, and he grabs your face in his big hands. He swipes away a few tears, presses a kiss to your lips. You squirm away “Dieter I’m all snotty!”

“I don’t care, Shrink,” he kisses your tear streaked cheeks, your now fluttering eyelids, your forehead, then he sweeps you off your feet, picking you up bridal style. You shriek and stifle a giggle. 

“Oh my god, Dee, put me down,” you yell, trying to contain your giggles. 

“Sure thing, baby!” He dumps you on the couch, grabs his fluffy brown coat off the table and wraps it around your shoulders, sinks to his knees and pulls your sneakers off for you. He goes to the bed and pulls your favorite blanket from the tangled pile and tosses that over you too. “Here’s what’s gonna happen.”

“Di-”

“Nope, you’re listening to me, for once.” You roll your eyes and throw your head back into the soft velvet cushion of the couch. “I’m gonna make you a cup of tea, okay? You’re gonna drink the tea and you’re gonna make a list.” 

“A list?” You arch your eyebrow at him, a skeptical look in your eye.

“A list. You’re gonna write down everything you need to do for school AND everything you want to do this week. When you finish that, you’re gonna make a list of ways you can cut your workload. Can you do that for me, shrink?” You start to nod, but then you catch a glimpse of the laundry. 

“Dee the house–”

“Nope! That’s my problem, okay? Focus on your list. Tell me when you’re done.” He drops another kiss on top of your head and gets your bag for you, laying it on the table before running off to the kitchen. 

You pull out your journal and start making his stupid list and a few minutes in, he brings you tea, just the way you like it and in your favorite mug. He puts on a record at low volume and you can hear the water running in the sink. Dieter Bravo is doing the dishes. You never thought you’d see the day. 

You finish the first list of all the things you need to do for school and add Write and Watch a movie to the bottom for the things you would do if you ever had the fucking time. Dieter appears in front of you, reading your list upside down. 

“Knew you could do it, shrinky dink.” 

“Please stop calling me that.” 

“No. Now what can you do to reduce your workload?” He heads over to the bed and starts making it while you talk. 

“I could take this class as pass/fail instead of for a grade…” Your face pulls into a grimace at the thought.

“And why do you sound like that makes you want to die a little?” He says as he wrangles the sheet back onto the bed. 

“Because it feels like failing. Or cheating? I don’t know, D! Gina will hate me for it.” You toss your journal onto the coffee table and burrow into Dieter’s coat a little more. 

“Ok first of all, that woman adores you, but also,” he trails off as he focuses on stuffing a pillow back into its case. He sleeps like a tornado. “Also! There has to be something else you can do. Is your internship mandatory?” 

“I need to do it!” you drag your hands down your face and bang your head repeatedly into the soft cushion behind you. 

“Can you reduce your hours?” He’s next to you now, plopping down on the couch and pulling you over to sit across his lap. 

“Technically?” You bury your face in the crook of his neck, drape yourself over him and soak in his warmth, his steadiness. 

“Then that’s what you’re gonna do. And tonight, we’re gonna watch a movie. And then I’m gonna toss you onto our freshly made bed and I’m gonna eat you out til you’re so delirious you couldn’t think about your ‘workload’ if you tried.”

“What about the laundry?” 

“It can wait.” He kisses you softly again. You make an exasperated noise, but you let him grab the remote, pull up Netflix, put on a movie. You let him cradle you and kiss you.

Dieter isn’t perfect. He’s messy and forgetful and can’t hold down a job to save his fucking life. But he’s steady, soft, comforting. He’s understanding and kind and silly and a little bit brilliant.

You know that when everything gets too much for you to carry, he can carry you. 

[thelensofyashunews]

RASHEED CHAPPELL SHARES NEW SINGLE "HAYSOOS" (FEAT. SOUNDSLIKEDEN)

New Jersey rap mainstay Rasheed Chappell has just shared a new single "Haysoos" (feat. SoundsLikeDen), out now along with an accompanying music video. An artist who has made waves as a counterpoint to the coke rap wave of recent years, the emcee has also announced that his new album NONSTOP, produced entirely by ATL finger drummer extraordinaire and Atlanta Hawks in-game music producer beatsbyjblack, will be out next month on August 30th. Made during Chappell's recent 36-hour trip to Atlanta, the forthcoming album is an alchemic blend of Tri-State boom bap bar work and the energetic, trap-heavy production ATL has become known for. A hard-hitting outing detailing the stark reality of the American legal system, "Haysoos" (feat. SoundsLikeDen) is rooted in full-toned horns, candid lyricism, and a soulful chorus courtesy of SoundsLikeDen ("Oh my God, it's the same old thing/We either paying with our life/Or charge it to the game"). "'Haysoos' is a walk on the wild side, the adrenaline that runs through your body when you’re 'outside'," Chappell shares of the track. "J made this beat so fast, I felt like I had to keep up with him."

"Haysoos" (feat. SoundsLikeDen) marks the second offering from NONSTOP following the recent release of lead single "No Play Play" (feat. Benngiie), the visual for which surpassed 135K views in just 11 days. As an integral member of the gritty Hip-Hop collective TRUST Gang alongside his contemporaries 38 Spesh, Ransom, Che Noir, Klass Murda & others, Rasheed Chappell is a seasoned emcee who has been hailed for his vivid wordplay and uncanny ability to paint pictures through language within his raps. Following the release of his 2020 collaborative album with 38 Spesh, Ways and Means, Rasheed Chappell has put out a strong run of projects, including the Buckwild-produced Sinners and Saints. Following 2022's A Portrait Of with Little Vic, Rasheed Chappell returned with The Arcitype-produced project Sugar Bills in 2023, while recent months have seen him release 38 Spesh collaboration tape Checks & Balances. Now with new album NONSTOP, Rasheed Chappell is continuing his hot streak — and showcasing why he's earned his stripes as a key player in New Jersey's underground hip-hop scene.

[thinginahumansuit]

Fucking the Fairlady 2/5

We ended up at those mountain roads we were so fond of, taking a trail into the middle of nowhere for a bit of privacy. While I'm sure my red paint would stand out amongst the fall leaves, it would also add to the beauty of said scenery.

"I want to see how you really look, Ben. Show me." My voice quivered, just slightly. He looked at me. I rolled my proverbial eyes. "Take your clothes off." I instructed, voice steady and warm. With gusto, he tossed his shirt and let his shorts drop to the ground.

Hairy, thin, torso and arms undefined with muscular legs, it honestly didn't matter how he looked, just that he did.

"Sit on my hood Ben." He turned around, backing his butt up into my grille. His scent was intoxicating, lingering as he disappeared the same time I felt a pressure upon my nose. I let out a shaky exhale, one that made him do the same. I could feel his cock dangling over, slowly growing. I exhaled again, warming his thighs, tickling that hanging appendage.

He waited. And waited, engine running underneath his backside. He started swinging his legs and I hissed in slight annoyance. "Move yourself up my hood and spread your butt." I ordered. He curled his feet, now just above my headlights, to his legs, pushing himself to the middle of my nose. His full weight now upon me, I found myself aroused, fluid dripping slowly from one of my tailpipes. I felt his hands on my metal skin as he pulled himself apart so that the sensitive, pulsating ring of flesh was flush with me. I could feel him vibrate along with me, making strange moaning sounds. His hips started bucking, kissing me over and over with his backside, until he stopped and made grunting sounds instead, ropes of white staining mostly my nose, though the longest ropes landed on the ground in front of me.

It was then, Ben made his own move: he spread himself yet again and masturbated. I kept quiet this time, curious as to what he was going to do. "Oh god, oh god!" He said as he jumped off my bonnet and shoved his dick through my grille, pumping rope after rope of his seed against my radiator, pulling out as I exhaled, landing more globs on my grille and "lips".

He stepped back to take a look at what he'd done, his face transforming into that of mortification, but his manhood had other thoughts.

"I wanted this Ben." I said as he struggled to get his shorts back on. "I'm tired of being clean, of looking good." I said, streaks of white dripping down my face. "You're tired too, I can see it. So, why don't you do what you wanted to do to me in the first place and call it a day?"He stared at me for a moment, his jaw left hanging open. "...Really?"

I swear I felt my headlights move when I proverbially rolled them. "Yes. Now fuck my ass like you always wanted." He dropped his shorts and started running behind me. "Turn me off."

"R-right." He said as he opened my door and turned my ignition off, laying the keys on my roof.

Again, he got behind me. But instead of getting down to business, I felt something else enter me. I could hear strange wheezing noises behind me while at the same time felt puffs of air make their way back up my tailpipe, shimmering my nerves, a moan.

[mccarthawrites]

Lucy's Dad

Relationship: Matt Simmons/OC!Lucy Rivera

Rating: General Audience

Summary: Lucy has brunch with her dad, Quique. Gets an update on her ex and gives Quique a gift from Matt.

Author's Note: My faceclaim for Quique is Jimmy Smits. There is some Spanish in this fic but not enough to cause issue. However, if you need anything translated, don't be afraid to ask. I AM BACK BITCHES!

Words: 1,419

Strike Zone Masterlist || Criminal Minds Masterlist

Lucy approached the front stoop that she grew up on. Her father, Quique, hadn’t left the Seventh Street apartment even after she moved out. The two had breakfast - or more like brunch - every Sunday together. Fishing her keys from her bag, she opened the outside door and walked into the main hallway. She heard her father singing along to an old Hector Lavoe record as she approached the door to the apartment. It helmed fading letters of “Casa de Rivera” painted on an equally fading Puerto Rican flag. Smiling, she opened the door and walked in, placing her bag on the couch before joining her father in the kitchen and finishing the song as a duet.

“Hi, mija.” Quique kissed his daughter’s cheek.

“Hey, dad. Need any help?”

“No, I’ve got it. But thank you. Quieres cafe?” He asked, motioning to the moka pot on the stove. “How are you? Interviewed anyone interesting last week?”

“I interviewed the Crimson’s new rookie, Spencer Reid. He seems sweet.” She poured herself coffee before hopping onto the counter. “But now that the season is over, my editor is floating the idea of me covering hockey or basketball.”

“Hockey?” Quique sounded almost offended at the idea. “Azucar?” He knew how she liked her coffee, so he didn’t even have to ask.

“Thank you. But yeah, hockey. Fortunately for you, you don’t have to worry about me falling in love with a hockey player. They are not my type,” she teased.

“Did you know Mateo is in the city? I ran into him a few days ago. He asked how you were doing.”

“I did not know he was here. I haven’t seen him since the Crimsons’ game last year and I’d like to keep that streak going as long as possible. Do you know why he’s here? He only came for games, but it’s the off-season. So why?”

“Yo no se.” He shrugged. “Said he was sightseeing with his new girlfriend. I think her name was Amelia.”

“Let me guess: pretty, white and blonde. Right? That’s his type. Why he ever got involved with me, I will never understand How is he?” She asked.

“Do you really want to know?”

“I almost made the mistake of marrying him so- sure. How is he?”

“First is still un pendejo for letting go of the best thing that ever happened to him and that will ever happen to him. He seemed okay. Didn’t seem happy. I doubt he’s happy if he’s still asking about you.”

“Thanks, dad, but you don’t have to lie to me. I can take it. It’s been two years. He- he deserves to be happy.”

“No, he does not. I am telling you the truth. Un pendejo had a sadness in his eyes. He knows he fucked up.” His comment made her laugh. “I shouldn’t have brought him up.”

“No, it’s okay. Also gives me a warning that he is here in case I run into him and- Amelia.”

“What would you do if you saw him again?”

“Be civil like I was last time.” She shrugged. “He’s moved on and- so have I. What did you tell him when he asked about me?”

“I told him about your boyfriend on the Mets.” He explained.

“What boyfriend?”

“Cooper.”

“Cooper isn’t- oh my god. You told him I was dating Cooper?”

“Por que? Did you break up?”

“We were never dating to begin with. We- we had a mostly professional relationship that occasionally included dinner and drinks- and other things.” She admitted.

“Oh. Wow. Really? I thought you two were good together.”

“We were never together. We were- friends with benefits. But that’s over now because he’s met someone that he’s serious about. And she’s cute. So I gave him my blessing and we ended things. Now we’re just friends with a strictly professional relationship.”

“When you introduced us, I thought you were introducing him as your boyfriend,” Quique told her.

“No. I was introducing my dad who loves baseball to the only Major League player I know personally.

“Why didn’t you date him?”

“Because the last thing I want is to be involved with another athlete. Just because the sex is good doesn’t mean I have to give the man my life. Learned that the hard way,” she told him. He gave her a look. “Shouldn’t have said all of that, but you know what I mean, Mr. hasn’t dated anyone since the mother of his child left.” Quique’s jaw dropped. “Am I wrong?”

“I didn’t date because I had my hands full raising a beautiful and smart daughter on my own. Because I don’t need someone else to be happy. And you don’t either.”

“You know this is a generational curse. You got your heart broken by the love of your life. I got mine broken by the guy I thought was the love of my life and now we’ve both shut love out.”

“Not true. I have love in my life. I have you and your brother. My colleagues and the guys at the center. Your uncles. I am surrounded by love. You have me, your brother. You have Andi and- I don’t know all of your friends’ names, but you’ve got them.”

“Fair enough.” Lucy laughed.

“I don’t need romance to be happy. Neither do you.”

“Exactly. We were both miserable when we had romance. And we’re far happier now.”

“Yes, we are.” Quique smiled, clinking their mugs together.

After brunch, Lucy cleaned up. The agreement was whoever didn’t cook washed the dishes.

“By the way, I have something for you.” She told Quique.

“A gift? For me? It’s not my birthday. It’s too early for Christmas. What did you get me?” He asked.

“It’s not from me. It’s from- a friend.”

“You have friends besides Andi and Emily?” He teased.

“Yes, I do. He’s a new one.”

“It’s a he? Interesting. Why is this new friend getting gifts for your father?”

“Because I told him you are a big fan of the Wolverines.”

“Is it Simmons? You interviewed him last season.”

“Yes, actually. Since he heard you’re a fan he wanted to get you something as a thank you for supporting the team.” Lucy explained, drying her hands. “Come on. It’s in my bag in the sala.”

“What is it?” Quique asked, following her to the livingroom. She grabbed her bag off the couch and pulled the ball out. “Is that?”

“A baseball signed by all the current Wolverines and Coach Garrett.” She replied, handing it to him. He held it, rotating it in his hands to appreciate each signature. “Ay, thank you, mija!” The smile on his face made Lucy’s heart soar. He hugged her. “This is going in my office. I have to get a display for it.”

“I figured so I ordered you one. It’ll be here sometime this week.”

“What would I do without you?” He asked. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank you. I didn’t even ask. Matt just showed up with it.”

“Showed up?” He questioned.

“We- we ran into each other. He’s in the city visiting friends and-”

“How did he know I’m a Wolverines fan?”

“I told him when I interviewed him.”

“And he remembered all this time?” Quique asked. “I think he likes you.”

“No, he does not. We’re just friends. Trust me.”

“Then maybe he’s trying to seduce you.” Quique laughed.

“That- that’s ridiculous. I’m not getting involved with another athlete. He’s just a really nice guy. He’s sweet and-”

“Maybe you like him?”

“No, I do not! I am not interested. I don’t need or want another relationship. Not now or anytime soon. I am enjoying the single life. I don’t need a man in my life.”

“Except for me.”

“Except for you.” She laughed. “So you like it?”

“I love it! Please tell him thank you for me.”

“I will tell him he probably made your whole week, right?”

“He did! I am going to put it on the window behind my desk.”

“Pretty soon you’re going to run out of space to display all your Wolverines shit in your office.”

“If that happens, I’ll just bring stuff home.”

“As if you have room for anything here.” Lucy laughed, motioning to the baseball memorabilia scattered around the apartment. “You’ll need a bigger apartment.”

“Never. I’ll be leaving this place in a coffin.” He replied. Lucy slapped his arm lightly.

“Don’t say that! Don’t even play. You’re young and healthy.”

“From your lips to god’s ear.” He laughed.

[nkhrchuwuya]

moving in

bungou stray dogs | G | 830 words nakahara chuuya x reader / oc

the penthouse is already a great place to be in, but chuuya knows it’s different with you around.

you and chuuya are walking to the parking lot after a dinner date when you take his hand in yours and smile, with a soft blush on your cheeks, at your partner.

“let’s go home, yeah?”

chuuya blinks, the reality not yet sinking in. “what?”

you cock your head to one side, confused by his confusion. “…to the penthouse?”

it takes weeks for chuuya to figure out how to ask you to move in with him. that, of course, is definitely not related to the fact that he would get flustered with excitement at the mere thought of you living with him—and therefore left him distracted from thinking of how to pop the question to you at all. to calm his nerves, he has it all ready before you even said yes—the extra closet in his room, the additional pillows in his bed, the spare key.

god, he wants you to say yes. he just wants to come home to you.

the opportunity comes in a less than delightful way, in the form of serial assaults and killings in the neighborhood two avenues away from your home. he brings it up in conversation over a sneaked-out mid-work-day lunch—emphasizing that no, this isn’t the port mafia’s doing, noticing your stare—before reaching out across the table to cover your hand with his.

“oh, don’t worry about me, chuuya,” you say, smiling innocently. “i have double locks on all my windows and doors and i have that knife you gave me in my pocket when i’m walking home alone. i’ll be safe.”

chuuya shakes his head. “i’d like you to be safer.”

“there’s… not much i can do,” you say, frowning. “i know my contract’s ending with that place, but i can’t just up and leave.”

“i got an idea,” he offers coolly, like it had just popped out of his head instead of plaguing his thoughts for the past few months. reaching into his pocket, the spare key he always kept with him because this time i’m telling them i promise!, he flips your hand over and drops it in your palm. “how do you feel about a view of yokohama bay?”

you wouldn’t have figured it out if you hadn’t recognized the pass card for the vip elevator in his building.

“is this—” you gape. “are you sure?”

bewilderment fills his face. “is there a reason i shouldn’t be?”

“i mean, that’s your… bachelor pad. don’t you want a place to be alone?”

a bachelor pad? he hadn’t really thought of it that way, just a place to crash after a long day in the mafia. sure, it was beautiful, and he took pride in his place for all the hard work it took for him to even get a place like that, but—

it was different with you around. it filled with a color he never thought it was lacking, and he can only imagine what it would be like when you’ve left your personality’s paint streaks everywhere.

“idiot. why d’ya think i’m dating you? it’s because i prefer your presence over being alone,” chuuya explains, turning red with each word. you reflect the same shyness in your expression.

“aww, chuuya,” you smile tenderly. “of course, of course, i’d love to stay with you.”

it takes a couple of weeks to truly move you out of your little apartment and into his penthouse, between the packing and unpacking. he wants to celebrate on the very first night you’d brought a box over, but you snort and decline, saying “you might jinx it, chuuya!” and so he’d put aside his special wine for a different night.

so instead, he focuses on the influx of stuff, one by one. every box that arrived made him feel tender; made you feel ever so dearer to him. he’d been to your apartment more than once, of course, but it was different now, laid out in his living area while you apologize for the mess. chuuya shakes his head and calls you an idiot, continues to marvel at everything, thinking—

what did you keep with you, love? which are the things you treasure? will you tell them their stories—won’t you tell me more about yourself? which corners of your life can i make more of an impact, where else can i leave my mark?

so when you say:

“let’s go home, yeah?”

he feels his heart hammering in his chest faster than it has ever done before, because of course. that place is home. it is now, with your laundry in the basket, with your books on the shelves. with your array of pastel-colored cookware, your specialty cooking knives. with you everywhere he looks. of course it’s home, especially now that you would be with him.

you narrow your eyes at chuuya. “…to the penthouse?”

and chuuya flushes, stutters and stammers for a moment, making you laugh, before clearing his breath, before he says:

“yeah, love. let’s go home.”

[rcksmith]

Dream a little of me — Kaz Brekker

Resume: One bed and two hearts.

Requests :”Hello, darling! Could I request sleeping with kaz? Imagine or general headcanons, as you like. No nsfw (no need of touching tho, do what you like with it!), just sleeping in the same bed - maybe for the first time. Also bonus points if one of them will have a nightmare👀Have a good night/day, hun!🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️✨✨✨💗💗💗”

“My heart asks for all the angst of touch starved reader falling for Kaz Brekker... 😭😭😭 - 🐕‍🦺”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Grisha Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mention of post-traumatic stress, angst, fluff.

Word count: 3k.

A/N: Thank you💖 I hope you guys like.

Normal Rules.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake. Requests are open. Love you❤️

— — — — —

The rain was pouring down in torrents, in a fierce storm that roared into the shadowy forest like a hideous, unearthly animal. Platinum lightning’s streaked the midnight sky and thunder rumbled like as giants footsteps crashing into the ground and shaking the earth. Everything had been orchestrated to work. But nothing could have gone more wrong.

Unfortunately, not even Kaz Brekker's millions of tricks and plans could defeat the force of nature. And even you, an Infernal Entherealki, hadn't mastered the art of controlling fire or keeping warm while under a torrent of icy, biting cold water.

Your teeth started chattering, your lips turned purple, and you wondered if you could run another inch. Your muscles felt like stones and for someone who had lived with the heat of the flames his whole life, being under freezing water was extremely painful. But Kaz wouldn't let you stop. And you, as excruciating as the pain was, didn't want to stop either. The pain was strong but the desire not to let him down was more.

The two of you part of the plan that night was to go through the forest with the diamonds in pockets and find the rest of the Crows on the other side. You two would have to spend the night in that place. But all of Brekker's machinations were washed away by the treacherous and atrocious rain.

The only alternative was to run. Run to the direction where there was a small civilization and pray to find an inn or not die of hypothermia.

The angry drops of icy water were enough to steal Kaz's breath. Not because the cold was unbearable, but because his own demons, his past, were ghosts that gripped his ankles like monsters from horror stories. He didn't feel the rain, didn't feel the biting wind, Kaz just felt the sensation of the freezing, oppressive ocean drowning him. And for a second, when he looked at the small strip of fur on he wrist that wasn't hidden by his glove and coat, he swore he saw Jordie's dead skin in place of his.

He had to get out of there. But when the storm started, and Kaz run his eyes at you, your face wet from the rain, your skin constantly whipped by the cold droplets, and your cheeks extremely red from the cold, it made him gasp in a very different way. Blood pooled in your cheeks. Pulsing. Alive. He had to get you out of there.

Finding hiding places was one of his specialties, and he focused his mind entirely on it. When an inn came into view, a small relief rumbled in both of you. And Kaz looked in your direction to make sure you were okay. Alive.

As the receptionist gave the key from the last spare room to the two of you, Kaz couldn't help but feel that there was no longer any heat pulsing in your body. That made him feel miserable.

The night was cold. Unusually cool for the time of year.

"I don't think it's a good idea to carry out a robbery like that in these climatic temperatures." Inej said, walking down the stairs after Kaz "One of the Dregs caught a serious cold too while you were away."

Kaz had to be away for two days to sort out some matters of his own. Check some ship ports and finding out the weaknesses of some new merchants. And as much as he ordered his thoughts to focus solely on that purpose, he found himself daydreaming at certain times about…

"It got very serious after a few hours." Inej completed.

Kaz felt a trickle of worry trace his veins, tighten his throat But it wasn't for some bruteman of his Dregs. His source of concern was more serious, deeper, and for someone he didn't want to think about too much. Even though he told himself to keep every nerve in his body under control, in the end he was Kaz Brekker, he couldn't help but notice he picked up his pace to get faster to the live room that was strictly reserved for the Crows.

And when he walked in, following by Inej, the tree branches hit the windows, blown by the wind, tinkling. The cold was oppressive and biting, but not enough to stop Jesper from playing cards with Wylan, nor enough for Nina not to eat her candy and listen to Matthias tell of his people's legends. But the eyes of Kaz, that treacherous and treacherous organ, ran to you first. Magnetically, inevitably.

And he felt like he could breathe again.

The sight of you sitting on the black velvet sofa, with a book in your hands and your legs stretched out on the padded stool in front of you, calmed Kaz's heartbeat as nothing had ever done.

As much as he denies, in those two days his mind has swarmed over you more often than he thought wise. Brekker liked to justify that action with the fact that you were part of the gang. As close and important as Jesper or Inej. It was normal for him to be worried about the Dregs.

But why did he only see you? Why did the questions about your well-being and comfort stood out so much from any other concerns with others?

It was you. Always late at night, when Brekker was a sigh away from sleep. You were what someone he was thinking.

"Who is alive always appears." Nina announced he arrival and Kaz was pulled out of his reverie.

"Did you kill anyone these two days?" Jesper placed a letter on the table and Inej sat beside Nina.

Kaz left his hat on one of the dark marble tables. “Does it matter?"

There were other seats available in the room. A leather armchair next to the burning fireplace - Brekker were sure that you was controlling the temperature - an extra chair around the table where Jesper and Wylan were play, and a small divan beside Matthias. But Kaz sat beside you on the couch.

You marked the page with your finger, lowering the book gently. He didn't need to see the cover to know what it was. It was a romance clichéd eighteenth-century. He had given it to you before he left.

"Everything worked?" You smiled and Kaz had the feeling that he wanted to memorize that smile in a painting to always appreciate it.

"And doesn't always do?"

Even with the biting cold that wasn't stopped by the fireplace, Brekker could feel the heat from your body emanating, like a delicious temptation. You were always so hot. Bathed in the sun's rays. He didn't know if infernal grisha like you gave off so much heat too, because it was impossible for that to be human. Were so intense...delicious. Even with multiple layers of clothing, if Kaz approached you he could feel the warmth of a tropical pirate island.

Was that why he always unconsciously sat beside you? Why did you radiate so much causticity that it made Kaz forget about the ocean's cold? Why were you like a piece of life and Kaz felt dead for a long time?

Or was it because, heat or not, you were the only thing worth being around?

All the questions were too disturbing. And Kaz Brekker didn't want to know the answer.

Now, even climbing the stairs to the room beside you, Kaz couldn't feel anything radiating from you body. Just the cold. And he hated it with every force of his being.

You're not made to take the rain, felling deadly cold, or turn your lips a bluish hue.You were not made to be cold as a corpse, with muscles stiff and sore like a dead. You were not made to look like Jordie. You were meant to be alive. To look alive. Exhale the heat of the most ardent fire and heat a room just with your presence. You were meant to scare off Kaz's winter with your summer.

For a second, Kaz wanted to hug you to give you the warmth of his own body.

You felt exhausted. The remnants of what you once day were. Every inch of your body protested, aching and tearing at muscles. The cold, sharp water did you no good. You didn't know if it was were something of your species or a trait unique to you. But it didn't do any good to you. You hated looking so miserable in that appearance, especially in front of the one man you always wanted to look beautiful to. But at that moment you were in too much pain to worry so much about it.

As soon as Kaz had put the key in the doorknob, his gloved fingers stiff from the cold, what you expected to find was a cozy room, promising a heat shower and a good, well-deserved night's sleep. But that wasn't it. You stared at the wide double bed with white sheets, perplexed. Shock competed with your pain and put your brain to work, and all your breath lurked in throat as your realized the situation.

Oh my fucking God.

You didn't have to look at Kaz to feel his entire body be rigid, in a way far more potent than the effects the rain had caused. As if the prospect of sleeping next to you was more whorse than dying of hypothermia.

You closed your expression. Half because your mood was already bad and half because the rejection was brutal. You didn't expect your passionate feelings for Kaz to be returned, nor did you expect him to feel the same longing to be close to you as you felt for him. But no woman wanted to see that a man would rather die of hypothermia than share a bed with her. Even more if he was a man she was in love with.

You entered in room first, the pain in your body clouding your thoughts.

"Do you mind if I shower first?"

Your voice was weak, and you didn't have the heart to look at Kaz. He hissed a “no” that hung in the air, and that was the last thing you heard before closing yourself in the bathroom.

His heart was beating eerily fast in his chest. As loud as the thunder outside and as unsettling as the chill of rain. His breath began to burn heavily in his throat, and suddenly his entire body was fully aware of the situation.

One bed.

Even when he took the diamonds out of his pocket and placed them on a small table, even when you came out of the bathroom and he walked in, even as he basked in the hot water, his heart still pounded wildly. Like a generator.

Kaz Brekker liked puzzles, challenges. Of things he could unravel and understand. Piece by piece. He played to win and to cheat, and the world knelt at his feet before the insight of his mind. Still, he didn't know what to do. You were like a fascinating and maddening riddle. The one thing that, no matter how hard Kaz tried, could never unravel yours mysteries. Or maybe, just, what he would never be able to do was unravel what he felling whenever he was by your side.

His heartbeat grew stronger.

Brekker remembered every deck of cards, every card played. He could keep up with the distribution of up to five decks, unlock any lock, and devise the most insane plans. But he couldn't stop the way his soul trembled whenever he laid eyes on you.

In those moments, when you looked at Kaz like he was someone much better than he actually was, Kaz wanted to be good. He wanted to be born again to become a damn decent man. For you. He wished he didn't have his demons and erase his past. Because that way, when the sun's rays hit your face and you were close enough for your scent of happiness to flood his senses, Kaz wouldn't back down. He would lean down and seal his lips in yours with the promise of a glorious future.

His heart beat faster.

Why did he feel that his whole life was always suspended whenever he were away from you? And why did he have the feeling his life could change forever if he walked out that door?

Kaz turned off the shower. The heart running like a horse. He fished out the towel and wrapped it around his waist, finding a small hamper that held neat, folded pajamas for guests. He was surprised he didn't notice you in those pajamas. You made him lose focus.

As soon as he dressed and walked out of the bathroom, his eyes immediately went to your figure. Sitting on the bed, your legs under the covers, your hands clasped together in a cupped shape with a small, flare of fire burning in the center.

You looked up at Kaz. “I managed to do something to warm you up.”

The phrase was: No for warm me up. No for warm us up. For warm you up.

Kaz lost his breath and his soul trembled. The air felt different since he stepped out of the shower, not just from the recent gust of heat. But there was something else, something lyrical, pink and lush. Something...beautiful. He did not say anything. First because he didn't trust his own words and second because he didn't know what to say. He sat beside you, a considerable distance away, but this time his fear was that you would hear the loud, racing beat of his heart.

You turned gently towards him, reaching out your hands towards him, not noticing how his hands trembled as they stretched under the hot flame. Kaz swallowed hard.

He knew how weak and drained you were, but he also knew you were aware that he loathed cold. Hated icy water. You didn't know the depth of his traumas, but the fact that you cared to the point that you were willing to use your last shred of strength to end his torment was something that reverberated in his soul.

You two didn't say anything else after that. After Kaz removed his hands from the flame, you understood that as the end of your two interactions. You two shared a mutual answer that neither would sleep on the floor. You two were adults and in no condition to be lashed by any colder.

The night moon bathed the dark room with lights in distilled silver, almost flickering through the windswept tree branches. You were back-to-back, blankets pulled up to your shoulders, breathing gently quickened. As exhausted as you two were, neither of you could sleep.

Suddenly, the whole atmosphere in room seemed to change. Like a private, enchanted piece of the world. The wind howled softly, on a calm note. The rain was still falling in torrents, but now it seemed to be adopted in a passionate tone. As if it had fulfilled its purpose and now hovered in the world with a romantic veil of water. Stars shining bright above the bedroom window, glittering like hundreds of tiny diamonds, accompanied by moonlight. Although the light was dim, it seemed to capture the lyrical essence, seem to whisper “Dream a little dream of me.”

Everything felt different, like the two of you had entered a rift in the world. A part inhabited romance, pure magic, love.

Your soul shivered, and as much as you could never prove it, you felt that Kaz's soul shivered too. Your breath hitched, burning in lungs, your body seized by a caustic tingle that snaked through every inch.

You didn't know why, but your body shifted gently on the bed, turning slightly towards the ceiling. The racing pulse in your veins. A second felt like an eternity. Kaz's body moved too, and you knew, just knew, that he was looking at the ceiling too.

Two hearts beating in the same time. Synchronized. And, by some magic or deity, you two knew that your heartbeat would never again beat another way. Always connected.

Your body moved a little more, now on belly up. And Kaz's seemed to do the same move, even without seeing you or your movements. His chest rising and falling with intensity. The rain calmed outside, turning the symphony of droplets hitting the roof into mysterious, passionate music. As if the world were plotting a whispering favor for you two.

Kaz could feel your body heat radiating once more, grazing his skin with rays of sunlight. Everything in that bedroom became poignant and intense and lyrical, inflicting sensations on him that Kaz never thought existed before. Later, it would be a shock for him to see that he was at the mercy of his own passions. Overcome by sensations that robbed him of control of his body. Later he would think about it. Later.

His soul tingled, sending gusts of heat from the inside out. The feeling was that, after 28 years of deep sleep, he had awakened. Awake. Alive.

His body moved once more, now completely on belly up. Kaz didn't have to look at you to know that you too had placed yourself in the same position. It was as if he felt the movements of your soul. His pulse was racing now, hot and boiling in his blood. And Kaz wondered if all the money in the world would bring half the sensations he was feeling right now.

What was he so afraid all this time? That question echoed through all the corridors of his soul. And Brekker feared for the answer. What kept him from having everything he craved?

Money? Pekka? Jordie's ghost and the cold ocean? Kaz feared never touching you any more than he feared his demons? Was that why he always walked away from you? Why was wanting to slide his fingers into your hot skin and not being able to fell you, be worse than any sensation he'd ever felt? Because, maybe, admitting it can change everything?

His breath hitched.

Would it be worse to be alone for the rest of his life? Doomed and cursing to a fate of revenge, death and red hate? Or, even worse for his heart, finding a girl with lovely eyes, sunny smiles and the smell of happiness? A girl that made him laugh, come out of his hiding. You. What do he will do with that? What if you open up the door that he can't close it? And If when you hold he and his heart is set in motion?

Would that be so bad? No.

His body became very aware of the approximation it was on to your. Your heat radiating into his. For some reason, Kaz was sure you was in the same condition as he was. Sharing the same feelings. The same passion hidden for so long.

Kaz should have thought of his brother, of revenge against Pekka Rollins, of the cold of the ocean. He should have weighed of his own traumas. Instead, he thought: What if I get a little closer?

The result of this was his fingertips brushing yours. And he knew the exact moment your heart sped up even more. Because his followed the same beat. Maybe following yours for the rest of his life.

You brought your eyes to him, calmly, as if that moment might disintegrate. and the world seemed suspended in that moment. Kaz slid his eyes to you as well, sharing sensations and emotions that didn't need to be put into words. It was all there, in the gaze.

His fingers crept higher, going to your hand, and plunging his touch - and his soul - into that contact. All your heat was too strong. Too intense. Doing Kaz wouldn't be able to think or feel, for the first few minutes, about anything but light, heat, summer and…happiness.

That's when you gave him a shaky, emotional smile. I would do anything for you. That's what that smile said. And Kaz answered, his hand tight with yours before letting go. Me too.

- -

As the sun's rays, shy and buttery, flooded the bedroom in soft color, Kaz's eyelids fluttered. The sound of birds reached his ears, and the scent of flowers and happiness invaded his nose.

It was nothing like waking up in Ketterdam.

That thought back him to reality. A reality in which he had stolen many diamonds, taken the rain and had to share the calm. A reality where Kaz Brekker touched you.

You.

Kaz opened his eyes immediately, his heart racing again. He looked frantically around the room, past the simple furniture, the closed bathroom door, the window where the light came in, and then looked to his side on the bed. That's when he realized what position he was in.

His soul heated up.

You had your back to him, your hair spread out on the white pillow, your back showing by your pajama top, your shoulder rising and falling softly with your resonant breathing. You were close. Very close. And Kaz finds, perplexed, that he is facing you. One arm rests around your waist, over the thick blankets, in an intimate and…romantic gesture.

He lost his breath. His warm, hope-shining soul whispered to him: what if it was like this every day? What if he woke up with you by his side forever? What if in time he learned to be a decent man? Trying to be normal?

Would Kaz do this for you?

You shifted in bed, turning onto his side, front for him, snuggling deeper under his touch and moving closer, as if Kaz were your oasis in the desert. No skin was actually touching, your breath hit his warm chest, and if Kaz lowered his lips even further, he could feel your lips on his.

Yes. He would.

[flusteredloser]

sugar sweet

richie tozier x fem reader

category: fluff, fluff, literally just fluff

word count: 3,3k

content warnings: swearing, stealing, slight nsfw (sexual innuendos... bc it’s richie tozier), a driving scene written by a bitch who can't drive, overbearing fluff, sonia

a/n: hello here’s a lil soft fic i wrote in a hyper state today <3 i had ‘beverly’ by ben wallfisch from the it 2017 soundtrack stuck in my head while i wrote the ending so !! enjoy

🎡

"sweetheart, if you don't put your head back in, i'm afraid i'm gonna have to marie antoinette you."

you laughed dismissively at his empty threat, feeling a grin take over. you let the wind crash against your face and through your hair, the scent of sea salt softly filling your nose. if richie thought that you were going to give this feeling up, oh, was he wrong.

despite what he was saying, the sight of morning sunlight streaking through your flying hair and your torso poking out the passengers' window was one richie wished he could get used to. despite his nagging for the past half hour, ranting about the dangers of vehicular manslaughter and mishaps, he couldn't help but beam at your laughter. 

he almost hit himself in the head for getting all worked up about safety like eddie always did, but it was something he found himself doing often with you. keeping you safe and sound was one of the few things that kept him from staying up all night. besides, you guys were going to see eddie and the rest of the losers in a bit anyways. the designated role of the pedantic worrier would soon be shrugged off richie's shoulders.

keeping one hand on the wheel, richie’s free hand never left the edge of your knee, not once in the hour-long drive. no matter how far you reached your body out his car's window, his fingers stayed glued around you. you never said anything about the gesture apart from placing your hand over his. being his was something you never got used to, but you were far from complaining.

"richierichierichie i think we're here!" you exclaim, ducking your head back inside the car.

"you sure, dummy? the massive ferris wheel and circus tent means we're close to the carnival?"

your hand leaves his to go shove his temple, "fuck off, rich."

"i know i know, you're really excited," he taps your knee, "so am i."

he pulls into the parking lot, expertly navigating his way through the crowded area before finding a space. an empty space which was coincidentally beside a sketchy beat-up minivan painted with "URIS," in fat letters.

richie laughs, "what are the fucking odds.”

his hand moves from the skin on your knee to the back of your seat, his body shifting to face the rear. you subtly eye your boyfriend sitting in the driver's seat and tried not to physically express any of the thoughts firing in your mind right then. dear god, did he look good today. you end up shamelessly staring at him as he strains his neck to squeeze his way through tight space. his knuckles turn to this ghostly shade of white when he flexed them against the wheel, his rings glinting under the sunlight.

once he finally put the car in park and shifted his weight back to you, he catches your gaze. throwing a wink, he pulls out the keys and stuffs his belongings into his jean pockets. 

you’re sure he has zero clue about the effect any of this had on you. sure, he was your boyfriend but sometimes you found yourself feeling scared at how much you liked him. this boy has you wrapped around his finger and he barely knows half of it.

you reach over and run your fingers through his unruly hair a couple more times, enjoying the way the curls bounce back. “you look so good, rich.”

he rolls his eyes at your remark, but you don’t miss the way a small blush reaches tips of his ears. “enjoy it while it lasts, i can’t let the guards recognise me again.” 

“i still can’t believe you got fired and banned on the same day, rich. that’s genuinely so impressive, you know that?"

richie rolls his eyes but you see the hint of a grin on his face, “you going soft on me, sweets?”

“could never.” you ruffle his hair, letting your nails glide along his scalp and you laugh at the way his head naturally tips back. richie had no clue why the feeling of your hands in his hair that made him short-circuit, but he wasn’t complaining.

“do we really have to go see them...” richie groans, grabbing your hand and placing it back onto his head when you pulled away.

“richard tozier. i did not pester you to drive us an hour away just so you could fold at me playing with your hair.”

he side-eyes you. “why did i agree to this again?”

“because every day for the last month you wouldn’t shut up about ‘taking eddie’s slushee v-”

“ed’s slushee virginity, riiiight,” he breaks out in a smile, “jesus, can you believe sonia never let him near one in his entire life?”

you tug his fringe towards you and the rest of his head followed, “well, now that he’s all alone there, someone’s got to be there to guide him through his first time, right?” 

he faux-pouts back at you, the mischievous glint in his eye sparkling brighter. “fine.”

finally, you let go of his hair and he pecks a kiss against your cheek before putting on his sunglasses and tipping his cap further down his face. opening his car door, you sit there dumbfounded as you watch the 6'2 disguised dork clamber out of his side with your tote bag on his shoulder.

he glances back, offering a hand as if you were going to climb out on his side as well, “c’mon, we don’t have all day.” and richie made sure you knew that by dragging you through the park, evading the guards left and right in under a minute. it was only so long before you spotted a group of idiots wandering aimlessly. bev’s bright red hair was the instant identifier, and watching this bill’s lanky frame grab a fistful of stan’s curls to yank it about sealed the deal. 

“stanley, darling,” richie yelled through the crowd, “if you wanted someone to pull your hair that badly you could’ve asked me nicely.”  “shut the fuck up, trashmouth!” stan yelled back. “wait. rich?”

you walk over and sling your arm around bev, “you guys haven’t been waiting long, have you?”  she grins at the sight of you, “no, but if i have to hear mike argue one more time that the high striker is apparently ‘broken’ i’m going to kill somebody.”

“do me a favour and kill me, bev!” stan’s voice cuts through, followed by a shriek when richie too grabs a handful of his hair. 

bev’s hand leaves yours to go smack both boys upside the head. “y’all better stop acting like children before i get fucking fired. i’m not going out like dumbass richie here did.” she eyes the rest of them, who all halt in their tracks.

“yes, ma’am,” the chorus sighed.

🎡

"ed's, i swear on your mother's smokin’ bod that blue is the. best. flavour. there's literally nothing wrong with it."

"you just called blue a flavour, richie-”

"because it can be. it doesn’t matter if blue and red colouring are the same, you can feel the difference.”

"no, i really can't. i don't understand how the colour blue could possibly be-"

richie groans, "fine, eat your mommy's packed lunch like the big boy you are." he teasingly starts to wave his cup in front of eddie's eyes.

"quit it, rich. if eddie doesn’t want toxins in his body, leave him be." ben interjects before sipping his own neon drink.

the boys huddled together around a picnic table they had managed to snatch before the carnival’s lunch rush swept over. richie and bev used to work in the carnival last summer, the two-week period spent with one another supposedly being “worse than the devil’s asscrack.” the comment itself earned richie five slaps, one each from the boys, and a high-five from bev. that was until richie got permanently banned (which you still don’t know how) and now bev carried on by herself whenever they roll back into derry. 

currently, you and bev were on your way back from the concession stands, attempting not to spill anything. you each held at least four bags of carnival foods and drinks in your arms, bev also balancing the few candy bars she stashed under her shirt. teeter-tottering your way back to the boys, richie burst out in laughter at the sight of you struggling. 

“as graceful as a job you’re doing with that, sweets, do you want some help?” he smirks, already swinging his leg over the chair.

“nope, nothing to see here,” you groan at richie’s smug grin. “rich, i swear to god if you come near me i am going to-”

“hurt me, hit me, murder me, mmhm. i’m sure you’ll do a whole lot of damage.” he winks, swiping the bags from your arms.

“freaky.” stan muttered, churning his slushee with the straw. you grumble at richie’s endearing irritating act of heroism and plop yourself next to stan empty-handed. 

“here, you want some?” stan raises an eyebrow, offering his blue slushee towards you.

“thanks stan, but he’s got my...” you glance towards richie, half-expecting to see him distributing the snacks, only to see him aggressively nudge the slushees in eddie’s face. “you know what, i’ll take it.” 

stan scoffed, “what, you thought i was offering this from the depths of my generous heart? i thought you knew me better-"

the sound of plastic crinkling and eddie’s yelp cut through stan’s sentence. 

you look back at the sight of richie threatening to pour the ice into eddie’s hair, eddie shrieking and wildly missing punches at richie. dear god, your boyfriend was such a menace. richie and eddie never spent a day where they weren’t at eachother’s throats though, but anyone with a pair of eyes could see that they deeply loved one another. rich had that effect on people, you think. he was rarely overtly loving, but it’s not like he needed to be. you guys just knew.

ben smiles sweetly between you and your gaze on richie. “you’re staring again, y/n.”

you immediately snap out of it and go to slug ben in the shoulder. “was not.”

“was too.”

"was. not."

"was too!"

you narrow your eyes at ben who sheepishly smiles in innocence. he reaches over to grab a couple onion rings from your bag to which you lightly slap the back of his hand. he groans, trying again from another angle, “just because i pointed out your goo-goo eyes at trashmouth?”

bev snatched a couple rings from across you and threw them at ben. he chuckles gleefully at the perfect catch. “you know, he’s not wrong,” she points out.

“for the last time, i wasn’t staring,” you groan.

“not about that, genius. the way you’re absolutely whipped for that dick.” she smiles. “i mean,” you barely conceal your smirk, “the dick is pretty g-”

"not what i meant," bev sighs while the rest of them groan at your words.

“seriously though,” bill asks with genuine curiosity, “how did you even end up together? how do you even like someone that much?” bev tuts from the other side, “tread lightly there, denbrough.” 

“shut up, you know what i mean. it’s trashmouth we’re talking ’bout here.” bill grins, “it’s a mystery how someone can shut him up so quick.”

you laugh to yourself, thinking about the few times you get to see richie completely speechless. “it’s not that hard, you know?” you shrug softly at the way the losers nod. you may all pretend to hate the life out of him but he always had a special place in each of your hearts. “he cares with everything he’s got, no matter what. he’s always there for you even if you don’t want him to be. i just...i don’t think he’s been anything less than...” 

“-if you say ‘perfect’, i’m going to hit you.” stan says.

you roll your eyes at stan, “fuck off, but... but yeah. it’s so easy to love him and i honestly owe you guys an apology for being so annoyingly whipped for that dork,” you joke.

aside from the distant bickering coming from richie and eddie in their own little world, a silence hung over the six of you. it was too quiet. wondering if you said something wrong, you scan over them, only to be met with six variations of a smirk. more than confused, you chuckle nervously. “i was joking about the apology thing but if you really want-”

“you said ‘love.’” bev laughed.

“what?”

“you said ‘love,’” she repeated. “that you loved him.”

“i... of course i love him, he’s..” not trusting any more of the words coming out of your mouth, you cut yourself off and gather your thoughts.

of course you loved richie. each and every one of you loved your resident trashmouth, he was one of your best friends. the two of you were the closest of friends, an insufferable duo for years before you began dating. it might have only been a few weeks since he asked you out, but it’s not like too much changed from when you were friends. 

there was only more love, more affection, only slightly more sexual innuendos (majority of them were solely just to piss off stan). 

so of course you loved him. more than you did when you were friends. which he’s gotta know... right?

“fuck, maybe i do owe you guys an apology.” you joke.

“don’t think twice about it, this is nothing compared to him. if i took a shot for every time he went on some sort of love ramble about you, i’d be fucking dead.” bev replies, “and then he would carry on.”

you laugh, shaking your head in denial, “c’mon, he does not do that.”

“are you blind?” mike speaks up. “you’ve had him since the first day you joined us at the barrens. i can still see fourteen-year-old richie ogling you clear as day.”

you stammered at your response, tripping over your words. “mike, i think you broke her. she’s become bill,” stan teases.

you go to shove stan again and sorely miss. “anyways, my point is...” 

you avoid their eye contact and go back to churning stan’s slushee. “he has my heart, fuck, he’s got all of our hearts. like, is he an asshole? sure. does he get on my nerves every other day? definitely. will he be the death of me? probably. but i l-”

“i sure hope you’re winding up to something there, sweets.” 

you snap your head up from your dreamy rambling to see richie smirking next to you and eddie squeezing himself next to bill. you feel yourself go bright red at the realisation that he had been listening. 

“i- no. that was it.”  

“you sure? you going off about me... ‘but’...” richie pushes, quoting your words.

“richie, if you genuinely think you have redeeming qualities, i suggest some self-reflection.” stan quipped. “yeah, i was just pointing how much you bother us. no ifs, no buts,” you jokingly agree.

“mean,” richie rolls his eyes, shifting back in his seat next to you.

he’s gotta know... right? 

you wink and stick your tongue out playfully, to which richie raises an eyebrow at. he glances between the blue drink in your hand and your tongue, his gaze on your lips making you nervous. 

“now, what?” you sigh, wiping the ice from your mouth and pretending that you weren’t dying to know what was churning in that brain of his. 

“nothing,” richie shrugs smugly, “just that i’ve always wanted to know how my cock looked blue.”

the comment took you off guard, your instant blush only fuelling richie’s grin. without hesitation, you lean over with a faux-pout, an act that has richie’s eyes wide. “careful there, trashmouth,” you tease loudly. “you keep this up and you’ll see how stan’s looks blue.”

bev immediately gasps with her hand over her mouth, followed by mike’s stifled cackle as he slapped richie’s back. the rest of the group looks frankly stunned, and stan’s face is on a whole different level of red. 

richie doesn’t even look the least bit angry. his jaw is dropped slightly and he runs his hand over his jaw, trying to stop the chuckle that leaves his throat. if anything he looks proud. 

shaking his head with a smile, he slings his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer. “that’s my girl,” he grins.

“yeah, that for sure is tozier’s,” bill says.

there’s no way any of you miss the way richie’s face goes red under that comment and your heart skips a beat when he squeezes your side. when no one’s looking, you lean up and kiss by his ear, absolutely delighted by the deeper shade of red on his face. 

“darl, if you don’t stop that i’m going to go as red as stan,” he whispers into your hair. the both of you look back at the boy who’s trying to concentrate on his slushee and not the blush that’s continued to creep to his neck. “i’m actually getting concerned.”

you giggle, “shh, he’s fine.”

“no really, i give it a couple seconds before eddie pulls out his medical fanny pack,” richie says.

you look up at him as you’re tucked into his side, his arm still slung around your shoulder. his dark hair and eyelashes caught the sunlight, his blue eyes glinting as he glanced back. his lips were tipped into their signature cheeky smile, almost like a cue that he was going to say something out of hand. you felt the swell of your heart grow as he raised his eyebrows, prompting what he knew you were going to say. 

“you know, earlier...” you whisper, looking down to his hand intertwining with yours. “i just... i wanted to say that i... you know... that i-”

“i feel like i should be offended at how hard it is for you to tell me you love me, sweets,” he whispers back, clearly trying to keep a straight face.  fuck.  “oh god please, you know i-” richie shushes you, kissing the crown of your head. “it’s okay, i know.” you can feel the curve of his lips against your hair. “i love you too.”

trying to tame the aggressive blush and stupid smile that reached your face, you follow his gaze over to eddie. just like richie joked, he had this fanny pack laid on the table in front of stan. you weren’t listening to anything they were saying, but you watched the way stan was squirming from eddie, insisting he did not have heatstroke. mike stood right behind stan, pinching his cheeks and periodically wrapping his strong arms around stan to stop him from squirming. bev was leaning across ben and bill’s laps, joining in and poking her fun at eddie and you notice how bill’s hands traces figures along bev’s side. ben gazes at the group of them, chiming in every so often when stan’s quips got too violent. 

it was one of those moments you wish you could freeze. 

after a while, richie whispers into your ear. “do you think they’d even notice if we left for the ferris wheel?”

you break your eye contact from the group to gaze up at him. “nope, not at all. you think you can sneak us some tickets?” 

“please, you think i got kicked out of here for nothing?” he scoffs.

“is this how you’re going to get banned again?” you grin, poking his side, “stealing tickets for your girl?”

with a soft smile, he takes your hand to subtly stand and back away from the group. with stifled giggles, the both of you manage to make it at least twenty feet without the losers even noticing. the second you two were out of earshot, richie wraps his hand around yours and begins to run, “i wouldn't want it any other way."

🎡

[keilemlucent]

lavender latte xi (no longer canon)

NOTE: Chapters X and XI are not longer considered canon in Lavender Latte.

....

(explicit, r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

|| series masterlist  ||

word count: ~6.8k

beta’ed: @hawnks (thank u!! 💕)

heat in two ways 

warnings: spicy content, a little bit of overstimulation. enjoy, loves ;^)

...

a/n: a little recap from last chapter, because its been awhile! keigo and reader ‘nested’ together after that nasty little panic attack from a few chapters ago. and now? guess you gotta see find out!! ;^) enjoy my loves!!!!

Things felt calmer, later. Your combined world had settled into the sheets with slumber. 

Thank god. 

When you both awoke, the sun was just beginning to set. 

The light that filtered in from the cracks in the curtains was amber, painting orange streaks across your dark bedroom.

The two of you had shifted, somewhat, perhaps falling even deeper into the nest you’d made, the softness of it forming to the contours and curves of your snuggled-up bodies. 

It was cozy, burrowing your face into Keigo’s chest, hardly awake and vaguely aware of the way his hands pressed wide against your lower back. 

You felt melted in the best way. 

“Comfy,” The word slipped from your lips without much thought, snuggling closer.

Your skull was no longer throbbing, neither was your hand or foot. 

It just felt calm, the only sensations Keigo’s breath and heart, and the ambient hum of the rest of the world. 

“Am I now?” Keigo chuckled from above you, voice crackling with sleep. “I have to say the same about you.”

You made a high sound in the back of your throat, shifting the slightest bit to drag your lips along his throat, bearing into the flesh with the barest drags of your teeth.  

He shuddered, squeezing the fat around your hips.

Maybe it was that your mind was still somewhat raw, but you were feeling particularly gooey. 

Maybe, it was that your mind didn’t have the will or the way to be too guarded, not when you felt so safe, especially in contrast to the hellish mindscape you’d been in hours before.

Not that you remembered it all that well— and good, you didn’t want to.

Your only bits of lucidity were in the present.

And god, did that feel good.

 Keigo tended to wake up quickly.  

It was just how he ticked, as tired as he was at any given time, he could always pull himself to wakefulness so quickly. 

With you, all warm and fucking perfect against his side, it was both a blessing and a curse.

Sure, he could’ve gotten to sleepily awaken with you, if his body hadn’t startled him from REM sleep the moment you shifted and whined against him. 

Though, being awake meant he got to watch you wake, and that in and of itself was a privilege he coveted.

It was new, even with the few ‘sleepovers’ the two of you had shared, all that sleepy peace was nearly untouched. The stillness and natural slowness of it was something that Keigo had come to crave.

He traced shapes against your ribs, leaning into the feel of you.

“How are you feeling?” His words were muffled into the top of your hair. 

“Good.”

“Very descriptive.”

“‘M sleepy,” You truly whined, twisting your legs with his own. “Don’t wanna think right now, Kei’.”

He suppressed a shiver at the little nickname on your lips. 

“That can be arranged,” Keigo hummed, pulling a blanket higher on your shoulders. “Do you want to keep sleeping? I can run out and grab some food?”

There was a moment of silence before you sniffled, burrowing your face into his neck.

Still so fragile.

“D-don’t leave yet, okay? Just a little more, please,” Your voice was pitched up with sleep, wobbling as Keigo felt the smallest tears begin to wet his sleep shirt.

His heart sank.

 “I’m not leaving, not unless you ask me to,” He murmured into your hair. “I’ll keep telling you that as long as I need to.”

The multiple meanings of his words mostly went over your head, yet you felt overwhelming and instant relief of knowing that Keigo wouldn’t be leaving your nest on his own volition anytime soon.

The assurance made your heart swell, even if your tired mind couldn’t swim in the depths of his tone.

All the same, you sucked in a breath before pulling him down into a needy kiss. 

It was reminiscent of the kind that you’d shared earlier. All desperate and clawing for grounding and stability in touch. 

Keigo gave it freely in the same way you gave it without knowing.

He nipped at your bottom lip, relishing the high keen that pulled from the back of your throat.

You’d done this all before, heated kisses and much-needed touches, but there had always been a line to stay away from. Especially on such an intense day, the last thing Keigo wanted to do was push your limits. 

 But, maybe you wanted to.

You tugged at Keigo’s waves, snuggling closer in time with the way you kitten-licked into his mouth. 

He groaned, shifting against you. You moved with him, craving him in any way you could get.

His leg shifted between your thighs. Immediately, you squeezed around it, feeling his own tight, lean muscle.

You’d gotten good at repressing your desire for his touch, barring yourself from any contact that could push past your threshold toward overstimulated disaster. Maybe, you had been overcautious, but it seemed better than scaring Keigo away with your potential shortcomings.

Wound together in the heat of your ‘nest’, though? 

Your quirk and mind had already detonated and didn’t have anything left in you besides fumes. All that burned in your gut was the swell of want and heat. 

You ground against him, barely, whining against his lips. 

Your heart panged a bit when Keigo pulled back, lips wet and pupils wide. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but you carefully rolled your hips against, the hardening bulge in his joggers pressing against your navel.

“I want to feel you,” It slipped out desperate and sticky as you locked your hands around the back of his neck.

 It was more than okay, better than okay.

 “I promise, I’ll stop us if anything gets to be too much,” You told him, a little more sheepish as Keigo stared up at you, wide-eyed. 

His lips parted as his words got lost between his mind and mouth. His hands stayed still at his sides by sheer power of will. 

“I just...” Your voice wobbled as you rubbed at your eyes. “Is this okay?”

 You were too soft for too much, but Keigo didn’t mind; he never did. 

“Very.”

He pulled you down by the collar of your shirt to show you how ‘okay’ it was. 

Admittedly, he was needy with his touches. His palms cupped your ass, squeezing and massaging over your shorts. Keigo had been holding himself back in the weeks prior without issue, but getting more of you, in any way was intoxicating.

That was not to say that he didn’t keep in mind your fragile state, no, he just made sure his touch was firmer, and his breath ran hotter.

Sensation served as a gentle reminder that ‘Keigo was right there, and he wasn’t letting you go. 

 You kept a tight grip on his sweater as he flipped the two of you, nudging your booted-leg to splay out comfortably. 

“Fank’ you,” You mumbled against his lips, chasing them for a moment as he drew away.

“Of course,” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, trailing lower to nip at your neck.

You whimpered when he reached a particularly sensitive patch

“This okay?” Keigo hummed.

“V-Very,” You replied, playing with the hem of his cropped sweater. “Please keep going.”

 (Like you had to ask.)

 You kept an eye on your fragile state, but with how little there was left in you and the quiet of the surroundings, there wasn’t much to watch. All you could feel was the roll and heat of each other’s bodies. There was nothing else to ring loudly in your skull.

Just Keigo and you, twisted up in each other and the bedding of your nest.

Perfect. 

You snuck your hands up the back of his sweater, running your nails down his back, just barely teasing at the roots of his outstretched wings. Teasing him was easier than you’d thought it’d be, considering you knew how gooey he got any time you even got close to his wings.

The shudder he gave you was confirmation of that.

“Careful there,” Keigo warned with a chuckle. Despite his laughter, you could feel the way his breath stutter with each sweet touch. 

“Why? Whatcha gonna do about it, Kei’?” You grinned back, smitten, as he stilled around your collarbones. 

“There’s plenty I could do,” It was a warning, one that enticed you to no end. 

“Oh yeah? Tell me about it.,” You challenged. 

“I think you’d like that too much,” Keigo chuckled against your neck. “Seems you’re pretty excited already too, hm?”  

A few of his fingers teased at the waistband of your shorts. 

He wasn’t wrong.

(At all.)

You scraped your nails along the base of his wings and much to your joy, Keigo’s spine arched and he practically whimpered. 

“Cute,” You snorted, rolling your hips up into his. “You’re not so tough, either.” 

Something like a growl rumbled from the back of his throat.

“Hush, dove,” Keigo cooed, far too sweetly for how his hands were dipping underneath your shirt. “Neither are you.” 

Both of you were so damn doughy for the other, the banter fell away. There was plenty of time for teasing, but both of you were thinking of a very different kind. 

Before you could quip back, Keigo was palming at your breast, teasing your pebbled nipple. You bit your lip to suppress a whine, shots of pleasure turning you even gooier and pliant. 

“I’m sure you’ve got plenty of soft points,” Keigo sounded all too pleased with himself as he hovered his face over yours. He gave a few slow blinks, pupils blown wide. “And I cannot fucking wait to find them all.”

...

If you hadn't soaked through your panties before, you certainly had now. 

Keigo could do anything to you, you decided. Having him over you, all sleep golds and heat was warming your insides in the best ways.

And you wanted more. 

You stared up at him, wide-eyed, and quickly melted as your shirt was pushed higher and higher. Every piece of you, raw and needy, wanted Keigo, needed him close, even closer— 

And Keigo fed the flames your mutually hot desire without shame.

“I’ve really wanted to learn you like this,” His fingers slowly traced over your side, taking his time to watch you squirm. His voice slowed to drawl, “All the ways I can get you fucked off my touch.”

Oh, what a prospect.

The thought of Keigo wrecking you was only a smidge daunting. It was easy to forget any potential unease when you let your relax against his touch, imagining all of the things he could do to you. 

God, did you want him to have his way. 

“You’re welcome to t-try,” You gently challenged as Keigo hiked your shirt over your tits, teeth scraping over the skin of your neck once more. 

With a chuckle, he lapped at your pulse point, “Gladly.”

Despite his confidence and your waning will, you weren’t to be outdone.

You wound your fingers into the small, fluffy feathers at the base of his wings, teasing the roots with the pads of your thumbs. 

In the earlier weeks, you’d found Keigo to be surprisingly sensitive. He joked occasionally about touch-starvation, but you knew there was a fair amount of truth to it. There had to be, with how his breath hitched with even your lightest touch.

His wings were the culmination of that thrumming need and craving for contact, and you were more than willing to exploit this knowledge. 

Keigo moaned against your neck with the stroke of your fingers, cursing under his breath. Your light massaging only seemed to spur him on, nails digging lightly into the soft flesh of your chest.

Despite the pricklings of pain, you still felt so soft. 

You were too weak for him, all wound up in the softness of the bedding and him, in every sensory sense, to put up too much of your own front. He felt too good not to invite and urge closer.

You tugged him up by the hair on the back of his head, pressing your lips together and stroking your thumbs down his cheeks. 

 Keigo kept his hips mostly still but was very aware of his own ragingly hard cock. Maybe, he was leaking into his boxer. 

Maybe.

You gasped against his lips, all breathy and sweet, “F-fuck, Keigo.” 

His mind ran blank, white-hot from the pleasure of mere words. 

He mentally repeated your words a few times, in your perfect cadence. The way your breath stuttered in your chest, the heat of your surrounding him, the softness of your body and the break in your voice— 

No one had ever said his name like that before and God, did he want more of it. 

He’d pull it from his lips as long as you’d let him. 

You pulled away only to meet his eyes with your blown pupils and upturned lips.

He calmed himself at the sight, reminding himself carefully that the last thing he would want to do is push you over your invisible edge of overstimulation. 

“You okay?” Keigo asked instinctively, running a hand through your hair to soothe any potential ills.

“I-I am, very okay,” You swallowed, “Two things, though.”

“Shoot.”

“One, can you lose this?” You fiddled with the hem of his sweater. “I’m not... sure how to get it off with your wings.” 

Yes, yes, yes. Holy fuck. 

Maybe, Keigo was acting a bit too needy, but he couldn’t make himself care. With the sweetness on your face and the insistence in your touch, you were right there with him.

Keigo immediately sat up over your hips, tugging his shirt from around the base of his wings.

He swore his heart was going to burst as he took in the absolutely love-drunk look in your eyes. Your throat bobbed as you took him in, 

You reached up to run a hand along his navel, visibly swallowing, “Keigo... you’re so gorgeous— it’s kinda overwhelming sometimes. In a good way.”

Fuck his ego being ‘boosted’, more like inflated.

Maybe ego wasn’t the right word. His chest felt too full for it to just be some superficial sense of pride. It all felt too raw and sweet to just be some baseless confidence. 

It was that earnestness of yours again, lighting him up from the inside out.

“Sweetness,” The name rolled off his tongue, new and comfortable. “You’re too kind, really. But, I gotta know, what was that second thing you mentioned?”

You blinked back your stupor, shaking your head.

“Uh, fuck, it made more sense before, sorry, it’s alright.”

Keigo frowned, lowering himself back down to brace his arms on either side of your head. 

“Nah, tell me, dove. I want to know.”

You bit your lip, turning your head and gaze away. Keigo tapped your chin back to center, nuzzling into your nose with his own.

“You sure?” You asked softly, hand trailing up and behind his shoulders.

“Of course.”

“Earlier it just seemed like you were... uh—” You averted your gaze again. “Holding back is all. On my neck. You don’t need to.” 

Keigo cocked his head to the side, “What do you mean?” 

“Like...” You were struggling to get the words out, face heating up. “I would really like it if you marked me up a bit, you know. In that sense. You know?”

 The gears turned in his mind, something burning deep in his chest.

If his cock wasn’t rock hard before, it was now.

The thought of marking you, his sweet, somewhat injured partner (mate), up in the comfort of the nest the two of you made together made something stir in his gut and mind. 

And fuck, if he wasn’t going to act on it. 

Keigo fully slipped your shirt off, trying to take in as much of you with his eyes before his hands and mouth got their turn. 

Hungrily, he wound a hand into the hair on the side of your head, pulling to bear your neck shoulder full to him. With a growl, his teeth raked over your neck, hard enough that your moans cracked as they fell.

Without thought, Keigo spoke, earnest and hushed, “You have no fucking idea how much I want to wreck you, do you?” 

You swallowed, “Show me then.”

...

That honesty was going to be the death of him and you, he was sure of it.

Keigo held nothing back as he sucked and bit along your neck and shoulders, leaving bruises and marks in his wake wherever he could. 

The little glimpses of red and purple had him scalding under his skin. 

 Much the same for you, notably.

“Fuck, Keigo!” You gasped when he sucked a bruise onto the underside of your breast, lips moving to the bud of your nipple later to massage and suck and tease and generally make you undone.

Your cunt physically ached with the need to be touched, the little bit of friction you could manage from grinding against Keigo pelvis was something, sure, but hardly enough.

Not to mention you wanted to feel more of him too.

“C-Can I touch you? Please?” You asked, breathless and pushed yourself up on your elbows. 

Keigo pulled your shirt up and over your tits, panting.

Idly, he traced over the hickeys and bites he’d left.

“How do you want to touch me, dove?” 

He left the question open, eyeing you with a half-lidded, nearly black gaze.

You swallowed down any fears you might’ve had, body thrumming, but quirk sufficiently dormant.

You slid your hand between the two of your bodies, cupping Keigo’s cock over his sweats.

“However makes you feel good.”

Keigo’s expression nearly broke, but he retained his composure, barely between his ragged breaths and hungry eyes.

“Can I suck your cock? Please?”

 Keigo couldn’t hold back the way his eyes rolled into the back of his head. 

You, begging for his cock, bruised and bitten all for him with the sweetest whine to your voice.

“P-please, dove, please.”

Oh, to hear Keigo beg for your mouth, for your touch— for you. 

You obliged eagerly. 

Keigo slipped off his joggers, palming himself through his boxer as he kneeled in the bedding. His wings had assembled themselves more fully, the red plumage outstretched and almost rippling with the heat of the room.

You knelt below him, mouth watering.

“You sure, sweetness?” Keigo asked, giving you a last chance.

“Very, please, let me make you feel good,” Your voice nearly broke. 

It was all the confirmation you needed.

 Nimble fingers pulled down the front of his boxers, cock springing up, pearly and wet on the head.

He was curved and thick, darker in the head with a bit of well-groomed blond trimming patched around the base. His balls were fattened, swelling with need and hot to the touch.

Part of you wanted to make a joke, crack some line about how ‘excited’ Keigo was, but your bodily reaction was far louder.

You thumbed at the head of his cock, biting your lip as Keigo tossed his head back, cursing under his breath. 

You wanted to hear more of him breathing your touch, you had to.

Leaning forward, you licked away the preek before spitting back onto his cock.

 Keigo had to be fucking dreaming because his cock was in your mouth and you were doing so well.

He babbled out sweet praises as you swallowed around him, twisting your wrist and the base and bobbing your head. You always felt so good, but this was a new kind of good, the kind that made his balls tighten and head light.

“W-woah, dove,” He could feel how close he was as he buried a hand in your hair. “Slow down—” 

You pulled off his cock was a pop, looking up at him with tear-pricked eyes, “Don’t you wanna come down my throat, Kei’?”

He audibly whined, stroking a finger down the softness of your cheek with a slow nod. 

Like that, you were licking up the underside of his cock, pulling him back into your mouth.

His hands tangled into your hair, not pulling too much or too hard, only bracing himself on you as you dragged him closer and closer to the edge. 

Keigo reached a gasping end as your nose brushed against his navel, painting your throat white in ecstasy and god, did you let him. His wings stretched and puffed outwards, shuddering and twitching with his high as he choked out a moan against his clenched fist. 

Your nails left crescent indents on his hips as he pulled you off his cock, drool and spittle dripping from him and off of your own chin.

You were certain you looked fucked out and fuck, did you feel it.

Blinking up at him with teary eyes, you cracked a wide smile. 

“Dove, you’re so good,” Keigo dropped from his knees to smother you in the best possible way. “So, so good.”

He meant it.

He peppered your face with kisses, wiping and licking away any spare spit that stickied your chin. There was so much care in his actions, considering how fucked out he was and filthy the two of you were.

Not that either of you minded.

Keigo had you on your back again, surrounded by softness, as a brief reprieve.  

“How was that?” You asked cheekily. “Feeling good?”

“So good, dove,” Keigo sighed, lowering himself against you. “That being said, could I help make you feel good?

You swallowed, assessing yourself. 

Your panties were soaked, thighs sticky beneath your shorts. You knew you were ambiently squirming for a fucking crumb to satisfying your craving and need for touch, for him.

“Y-yes,” You stuttered, something akin to relief rushing through you. “Please.” 

 Keigo didn’t need to be told twice.

His head spun, pleasantly love-drunk in all the best ways. With you splayed out below him, heat singing in your cheeks and heat at the surface of your skin wherever his fingertips drifted.

“Get comfy, dove,” Keigo pushed lightly on your sternum, encouraging you back into the plushness of the nest. He allowed himself a moment to compose himself, trying to calm the tremble in his hands.

Maybe he was a little... nervous. 

Not for any good reason. He knew his own prowess, and he was confident that he could easily make you come undone in any number of ways.

The anxiety tied up in his gut and his own perked up arousal made his palms go clammy.

The source of it all was also splayed out before him.

It was you, and that made this feel a hell of a lot more important than any of his previous trysts. 

He was stumbling. 

 You noticed.

Keigo’s jaw tightened visibly, and he chewed at his lip— 

All he needs is a little push.

 An idea formed in your head. 

“Hey, Keigo? Can we try something?”

“Anything,” His gaze refocused, alight and rewarming. 

And, God, was his voice fucking desperate and dripping with something hot and infectious.

You stopped your hand at the waistband of your sleep shorts, sinfully soft and thin. 

With a shaking breath, you cracked “I-I know I could get overwhelmed, but I trust you, you know? I love you.”

Your breaths hitched in time with each other. 

“I love you too,” Keigo’s exhale matched yours, hands finding their home on your hips, “So much.”

The words had a lot in them for how new they were, and you only wanted more held in each syllable.

And preferably, something stuffing your cunt. 

You bit your lip, sliding your hand closer to your aching sex, silently praying you’d get your words right.

“Tell me what to do.”

There was a moment of quiet as you tore your gaze from Keigo and you immediately cursed yourself.

“I-I mean–” You tried to backpedal. 

Keigo was quick to hush you with a kiss, something deep that made you shudder. 

“Elaborate,” As he pulled away, he stayed close, thumbing at your burning cheeks, “How far do you want me to take that statement, dove?”

“Like...” You kept your confidence as strong as you could. “Tell me how to touch myself.”

Keigo was silent for a moment, a shaking breath dripping from his lips as his feathers in all their places practically writhed. 

“Gladly.” 

 Keigo pulled himself together, despite how weak-kneed he felt. His breath out over the back of your neck, his words curling against your ears as he watched your hand linger near your neglected cunt.

Pity.

“First, shorts off.”

You nodded, wiggling out of the soft fabric with Keigo’s help, though he made sure to keep your panties on. Ideas were spinning in his skull, too many, probably, but it wasn’t too hard to narrow down particular pleasures that you obviously needed.

The vulnerability of it all made your insides twist.

How long had it been since you were this bare with another person...

A while.

You had to be gentle with yourself.

And Keigo needed to be soft with you. 

He pulled you from your thoughts with a coo, tracing little nonsense shapes on your stomach from between your parted thighs. 

“Dove,” Keigo dripped something that made your insides boil. “Touch yourself a little for me. Just over your panties, tease yourself. I want to see you .”

You keened in the back of your throat, going to mush in his arms as two of your fingers traced over the wet patch on your panties. 

(Keigo mentally stored that you got off on being told what to do, suppressing the way his eyes wanted to roll back into his skull and ignoring the way his dick switched..)

One of his broad hands ran over your hips, squeezing the fat of your thighs as he coaxed you onto your back. 

It was more vulnerable for you like this, almost entirely exposed to him, but in the lowlight and softness of the room, it wasn’t nearly so intimidating.

It helped that within moments, your lips caught his, a moan muffled into his mouth.

As you broke apart, Keigo tugged at the elastic of your panties, “You’ve already gotten these pretty messy, hm? Let’s get them off.”

They followed your shorts onto the floor. 

Keigo let his wings do as they pleased as he took you in, watching your expressions, feeling your breath and heartbeat with each twitch of your body. 

It was like putting together some divinely crafted puzzle.

He meant it, ‘learning you’, and your suggestion of guiding your own getting off was the perfect time to sample your pleasures, mutually.

 You pulled Keigo from his thoughts with a kiss, snaking out a hand to grab his, and pressing it between your thighs.

“Oh? You want me to show you now?” Keigo murmured against your lips, tracing patterns on your thighs.

“P-please.”

Keigo clicked his tongue, eye half-lidded, “You know, I could get used to you begging.” 

Any retort died on your lips as he slid two fingers up and down your slit, stopping to roll and circle your clit.

Pleasure burned across your insides in the best way.

You’d craved his touch in this way for so long, why had it taken so long to let him touch you like this?

Maybe, the barest bits of your quirk activated as he rose from your side to slide down your body, little kisses and touches in your wake. Your mouth filled with sweet cream and cinnamon as you caught his gaze, burning and doughy all at the same time.

One of his fingers crooked into your cunt and you swore you saw stars and sweet fruits from that alone.

“Oh, good, dove, let it out,” Keigo’s voice felt too sweet, perfectly, as he kissed your thighs, heating you through and through. 

It was all so tender, you could feel stray tears leaking down over your temples. 

When was the last time someone touched you like this?

(Never.)

Keigo was supposed to be fast and frizzy, but nothing about the way he licked your cunt was even close to that. He was supposed to be flighty, but with the way he laid between your thighs, sucking at your clit and stretching you on his fingers, he was anything but. 

Your hand buried in his hair, your ground against his face, thighs squeezing his cheeks. The heat of it all burned you in the best way, singed you with syrupy fire that you’d wholly let consume you. 

“K-Keigo!” Your voice shattered as he massaged at your insides in time with the stroking of his tongue. 

You’d thought he’d tease, but he was enjoying this as much as you were, wrapped up in it all.

With your eyes screwed shut, you couldn’t see the way his wings wrapped around and hid the two of you from the world. You couldn’t see how he’d shift his gaze to your slack jaw and watery eyes, all fucked out and open-mouth. 

Each sensation of you around him, in the comfort of the little nest you’d made together, made him wild.

Keigo had wondered briefly, how love worked, considering he didn’t know much about it. Not beyond what he’d seen in movies and books, or the fragments of it from his own upbringings. None of his old flings ever held anything close to how he felt towards you. 

Love was different than all of what he knew, which is probably what made it so easy. 

He had a blank slate to etch with you, and god, if he wasn’t excited.

And only a piece of that was the way he fucked his fingers into your cunt, the wet sounds mingling in his ears with your high moans and little pleads. He could feel you fluttering around his fingers, practically pouring into his mouth.

He drank each drop of you down.

 It was all so good—

Too good. 

Each touch was like sweet flames, pouring down your throat to your toes and cunt, stirring you up and never letting you settle. Keigo’s tongue and touch were heaven, sweet relief and addicting in every way.

Except when the embers became too hot, burning you instead of warming you. The honey in your mouth went stale and the cinnamon singed like broken glass.

You’d passed over your threshold.

It happened so suddenly, you felt like you were drowning. Your moans choked in your throat, stuffed with wet wool. You grappled with sensation, eyes going wide as your chest began to heave. Burning and floating, you threw your arm over your eyes.

You tried to take a deep breath, but all of the sensation flowing through your fried body weighed too heavily to be fought through. 

“W-wait, stop.”

...

Everything had already gone still.

Keigo was far too perceptive and sensitive to let you slip too far.

“You’re okay, we can stop, whatever you need,” Keigo rose, pulling a stray blanket over you as he scrambled for other ways to comfort you.

 You reached down, shaky and teary, “N-no more, please, can I hold you?”

Any sort of barriers of shame or reluctance were gone, now that you were fried through and through. 

Keigo was at your side in a moment, carefully tucking you into his side after some insistent tugging at his biceps. 

“I’ve got you,” He hushed you, pressing his wet lips over your damp crown. “Big breaths.”

“Uh-huh,” You clung to his words, sucking down his scent of sweat and comforting spices. “Big breaths. 

Keigo rubbed your back and shoulders as firmly as felt right, resting his chin over your head as you shook against him.

“I promise, I don’t get overstimulated this much,” You whispered in his chest. “This is ridiculous.

“You’ve had a long day, dove,” Keigo reminded you with a laugh. “The fact that you almost came is impressive.”

“... You could tell I was close?”

“Of course. I love you, dove, you know?” Keigo breathed, almost soundless, mostly to himself. “I gotta know that kind of stuff. 

But, the room was too quiet and far too still for the words to not to be noticed. 

“I love you too,” You kissed the underside of his chin, the stubble still sticky with you. Maybe it was a bit gross, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. With your own light giggle, you shook your head. “I can’t believe my quirk edged me.”

Keigo’s chest rumbled for a moment before he squeezed you, hard, busting into a full fit of laughter that you couldn’t help but join. 

And it felt so good.

The last spinnings of your quirk faded as you caught your breaths, Keigo’s airy giggles tickling your nose and sending trailing touches at the base of your spine. 

As you caught a glimpse of his bare, dewy chest rising and falling and the sweetest smile you’d ever seen stretched across his lips, you decided you’d do anything to keep it there whenever you could.

A mission of goodness, as pure and idealistic as it was. 

Neither of you minded. 

You both rested, for however many moments, until you both were able to shift, still leaning into each other, but rising up in your nest. 

You wore a sheepish smile as you tucked a bit of Keigo’s unruly waves from his face, “Wanna try that again sometime?” 

He went literally soft, leaning into you. 

“Anytime,” Keigo kissed your wrist. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

“So you say.”

“And I’ll keep saying it—” 

Keigo’s hands squeezed your thighs as he pounced, pushing you back into the sheets, pressing kiss after kiss to your salty cheeks, wings fluttering above the two of you.

It was all perfect, truthfully and truly.

The way you spent the rest of the night held by each other, not as heated as before, but still, just as safely and comfortably. Over a bit of takeout, an endless amount of banter and laughter, and a goodnight’s sleep, you were both feeling miles better than the days and hours before.

It was all as perfect as it could get, between the two of you. 

(But, perhaps, the inevitable details would come into play. Perhaps.)

 |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 Keigo felt refreshed for the first time in months when he arrived at his agency the next morning.

He’d gotten to wake with you slowly for once, what a fucking treat, he was sure he’d never tire of it with you pressed again him. After some rolling, early morning kisses, he packed up his things and tucked you back into the nest of sheets to rest as much as you needed.

You’d been quick to drift off, a few of his stray feathers staying close by even in your slumber. 

Despite how energized he was, he was sipped on the canned coffee (had it always tasted this bad?) and preparing for his office day. 

He waved to his interns, smiling something real with a pep in his step as he entered his seldom used office. 

As Keigo organized himself, he practically had to dust off his far-too professional looking desk before setting his bag down, and starting up his computer.

The door clicked open moments later, and a ruffled-looking Akane gave him a stern look from the doorway.

“Hello, Hawks. I need to talk to you—” 

“Paperwork will be done by noon, don’t you worry about that,” Keigo laughed off her oblivious irritation as he clicked into his desktop. “I know taking a personal day isn’t really my thing— “

“It isn’t, and this isn’t about your paperwork.”

She reached behind her to click the lock in place.

Keigo’s gaze drifted to the diamond insignia on her breast pocket, almost twin to the one he wore on his bodysuit.

Both wards of the same beast, one could say.

When he was younger, still being trained so ruthlessly, they assigned him ‘handlers’, like some sort of animal. Once he’d gotten his own agency, he’d been assigned Akane, raised and trained in a similar way he had been. Another product of a failed system and an opportunistic, greedy power structure.

They understood each other in that way. 

“I said I needed to talk to you two days ago and I meant it,” Akane sighed, shaking her head and approached his desk. “I’ve managed to cover you so far, but I need an answer.”

“...About?”

It wasn’t like her to be cryptic.

Akane fished around in her side bag for a tablet, clicking it to unlock and tapping.

“I know there are things you do that the bosses don’t even tell me about, and that’s how I justified all of this, continually.”

She placed the tablet in front of Keigo, an image displayed and glowing. 

His eyes went wide when he saw the picture.

It was him, flying to your balcony. It was late, the warm glow of the nearby streetlights half-illuminating his face, even from far away.

Akane scrolled to another picture, much the same, except taken in daylight. 

Keigo bit the inside of his lip to keep on his plastic smile as Akane scrolled through picture after picture, all of him coming and going from your apartment.

A pit was growing in his stomach. 

“We’ve been paying tabloids off, blacklisting folks. I know you’ve had a lot on your plate and have been particularly distracted, so I put it on work we aren’t allowed to know about. Still, I wanted some confirmation.”

Keigo’s heart dropped like lead slick with mercury in his chest, a poison feeling spreading over his gut— 

“It didn’t seem right though. And then I got some confirmation with this one— “

The next picture made him burn. 

“It’s  from yesterday morning.”

Yesterday morning.

From the balcony window, the early light was perfect to see directly and clearly into your apartment.

It captured Keigo kneeling on the floor, wings slack and resting on the floor, softened with a concerned quirk in his lips. 

He held your forearm in his, pressing an obvious kiss to the back of your bandaged hand. 

And then there was you.

You.

Teary-eyed, even in the photo, haggard and tired, but still obviously looking at him with love that made Keigo break in his ribs. 

“We caught this one last night. Your publicist is pissed, but I covered for you. That being said, I need an answer. I’m not blind.”

His mouth went dry.

“Who the hell is that, Hawks?”

...

The two of you hadn’t talked about this yet.

The publicity of your relationship, if and when, was something that had been alluded to, but never deeply conversed about. There was too much glowing new love and healing being done to worry about the details.

But now, the details were staring him in the face.

Thank god for his training, and his ability to keep his expression even.

“Sorry about all that!” He laughed, leaning back and propping up his feet. He pushed away the tablet with the toe of his boot. “Just some work and play for a mission. It’s been getting a little... interpersonal, if you know what I mean.”

He wiggled an eyebrow to really sell himself.

 Akane met his express with a dry glare. 

“... And you took a personal day for that?”

An incongruence. 

Keigo kept on his sickly smile as Akane sized him up.

“Had to be nonchalant, right?”

He was coming to hate lying, after being so intimately around your candor. 

The feeling of illness in his chest grew.

Sentiment was terrifying.

“... Right,” Akane ran a hand through her hair before taking back the tablet. “I won’t say anything, and I’ll tell your publicist to keep doing what she’s doing. Just try to be less obvious about all of this... ‘interpersonal work’.”

She wasn’t convinced.

Maybe Keigo had become a shittier actor, or maybe Akane had just come to know him too well.

Akane fished around in her bag, pulling forth a small piece of folded paper. She placed it on his desk, and slid it until it bumped his boot.

“Just in case you’re interested, these are the names of the photographers responsible. Do with that what you will.”

She gave him a darkened look as he sat up, unfolding the note and taking in the names.

They wouldn’t be hard to find, if needed. 

“Thank you, Akane. I appreciate it.”

“Of course.”

She turned to leave, but paused, hand hovering over the door handle.

“Hawks?” Her voice went more gentle than he was used to. “I mean it, I won’t say anything. To anyone. Just... whoever they are to you, be careful, alright?”

Akane’s gaze drifted back to his, a sharpness there that she’d been hiding. 

Knowingness.

Despite the smile he still managed to wear, his must’ve looked quite grim as Akane left his office, leaving him in the almost silence with plenty to stew over. 

+++++

💕 tipjar 💕

+++++

taglist (send me an ask to be added!): 

@thepandapopo @hawksexual @sinclairsamess @darcia22 @inhalingsoysauce   @yee-fxcking-haw  @call-me-rhee @peach-buns-unicorns @amethyst-rose-17 @mega-bastard @an-untamed-rose @ravioliplease @keigosangel @gobestupidsomewhereelse @themusingsofmany @mariiloei @hecatve @assassinslittlesister  @thepuckishrogue  @sleepylittlebarista @cathy8taffy @heydae20 @crapimahuman @indecisivehusky @levawks @hawkscumslutt

if your url is crossed out, i was unable to tag you due to your accounts settings. let me know if you’re able to adjust them! 

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - May 2

I know I say every week that I read a lot this week but I have been indulging in my favorite coping technique and so this list is ridiculously long. Twitter encouraged me. Blame them. 

**Indicates my recent favs 

~*~ 

On the inherent homoeroticism of cake decoration by welcoming_disaster (616/8K)

“She’s matchmaking, Barton,” Carol sighed.

“We,” Thor corrected, thumping himself hard in the chest, “art matchmaking.”

“Who, Cap n’ Tony?” Clint asked, his mouth full.

“Cap and Tony,” Janet confirmed, cutting herself a thin slice of egg and gently depositing it on her whole grain avocado toast, “it’s getting ridiculous.”

“Wait, I thought they were—“ Clint frowned, glancing around the room as though to confirm. Nothing but confused faces met his questioning gaze. “Huh. I really thought they were fucking.”

“And there is the crux of the issue,” Jess licked a bit of spaghetti sauce off her lip.

“Aye,” agreed Thor, “there’s rub.”

-----------

The team tries to set up Steve and Tony. Things don't go as planned.

Baby lovers like you and me (never say die) by FestiveFerret (Old Guard AU/7.5K)

The Avengers. They'd found him frozen in the ice, told him he was immortal, of all things. And with the way he'd lived through seventy years deep in the Atlantic, he found himself inclined to believe them. They'd also been very… convincing.

Without question, they integrated him into their unit - The Avengers, a secret team of unkillables seeking wrongs around the world and making them right, supported and housed by an enigmatic billionaire named Tony Stark. Their immortality, it seemed, was a secret to everyone but him.

Ready, set, bake by ChocolateCapCookie (Great British Bake Off/11k) 

The Avengers are on a nationally televised baking competition, but nobody seems to have warned the producers that the Avengers, while they save the world everyday and put their loves at risk doing so, are a) insanely competitive, and b) absolutely terrible bakers. Steve Rogers, especially, has a competitive streak a mile wide, and he's determined to win this competition, but it's not easy when his only real opponent is also the man he's been in love with for years.

***To make flowers grow (in this barren heart) by SoldiersShield, KakushiMiko (Hanahaki AU/16K) 

“You hide yourself away in your technology, but you are just as human as the rest of them. Your heart betrays your desire to possess.” Her gaze falls to the arc reactor, and Tony's blood runs cold in his veins.

“The Earth will reclaim what we have lost,” she says, dragging a hand over the chestplate of the armor. “It is you, and your kind-- your greed that pulls life from the soil as if it were nothing. You will reap what you have sown, Stark. The avarice in your heart will strangle the very life out of you.” Arna meets his eyes once more, a serene smile on her face as she leans forward.

“I hope he is worth dying for,” she murmurs, before digging her hand into his ribcage.

(Tony Stark falls in love with Steve Rogers. A rogue enchantress ensures he pays for it.)

Shelter from the storm by silkspectred (KidFic/5k) 

Tony adopts a baby. Guess who's Majorly Fucked Up™ about it.

Keep on beating by itsallAvengers (Domestic Fluff/6K) 

There were an awful lot of things Steve loved about Tony. But one thing in particular Steve could never get enough of was his heartbeat.

The good or bad thing by petreparkour (Multiverse/10k) 

 “It’s the metal suit,” Thor informed Steve, his normally-booming voice tinny over the SHIELD comms. “What did Stark call it—Iron Man?”

“But he’s down here,” Steve protested as the Hulk roared in Stark’s face, startling him into waking with a shout. “How could—”

“It’s damaged,” Thor reported. “But it looks different. More advanced. And he—ah. He’s carrying you, Captain.”

“Please tell me nobody kissed me,” Stark breathed out, and then Stark’s voice suddenly came over the comms, but the man lying next to him hadn’t moved.

“Guys, come on, you’re killing me here. What is it, 2012? God, I hate time travel. First, I'm fighting Thanos. Now, I have to deal with my past self and Thor's bad haircut? Oh my God, Cap, yes I hacked their comms, they’re my comms.”

Steve nearly opened his mouth to protest that he hadn’t said anything when he realized that this replica of Tony Stark wasn’t speaking to him.

***The tipping point by nightwalker (Domestic Fluff/7K) 

Tony has a few quirks. Steve's still trying to figure them all out.

We two, how long we were fool’d by glassessay (Soulmate AU/9K) 

Steve Rogers comes into the world as unblemished as his mother. When Anthony Stark is born, his soulmark is an obvious pattern of ink across his tiny chest.

It only takes a century, two names, and a shared love of Walt Whitman for them to find each other.

The tape in the cave by betheflame (Canon Divergent/5K) 

Steve had no idea what was happening.

“You think I didn’t know that?”

Tony was staring Zemo down as though the Sokovian was actual vermin - which, Steve reflected, he kind of was.

“You think that I,” Tony continued, not hiding the sneer in his voice, “Anthony Stark, who has more powerful technology in my literal fingers than most nations have, that I wouldn’t know everything possible about how my parents died? That I wouldn’t know it wasn’t an accident, that your silly little HYDRA Nazi knock-off pals are the ones who murdered them? Please, you are pathetic.”

Happy ending by Robin_tCJ (No-Powers AU/28K) 

 Steve is a mobile massage therapist, and Tony is a stressed billionaire. What could go wrong?

With a decent happiness by torigates (Teacher AU/16K) 

Tony Stark is Iron Man. Steve Rogers isn't, and never was Captain America.

Or, the one where everything is the same except Steve is a kindergarten teacher.

Nothing left but scars by SailorChibi (MCU/6.7K) - Reread

Steve wakes up to the fact that no one ever compliments or even says thank you to Tony, and that he has fallen into the same trap of painting Tony with a specific paintbrush.

This is how he showers a very confused Tony with praise to make up for it.

Our hearts should remember and follow by frostfall (MCU/5K) 

Steve hums. “I didn’t know you could play. Or sing. Don’t think I’ve heard anyone mention it before.”

Tony shrugs. “It’s one of the few things, skills, I don’t flaunt. Not something people are interested in, anyway. Not gonna sway any board members by playing fucking Für Elise for them. Sides’, there’s a high chance I wouldn’t even play. Well, maybe if you get me drunk enough and near an instrument. Then, I might reconsider.”

(After a dream leaves Tony rattled, he turns to the piano as a way to distract himself.)

Finally, you and me by pensversusswords (Multiverse/10K) 

Because in every layer of time, in every conceivable dimension, he was always meant to love Steve.

By some miracle, Steve was meant to love him back.

***Full disclosure not required (but appreciated) by Potrix (Identity Porn/16k) 

The one where Steve knows more than he lets on, Tony knows less than he pretends, Clint has a big mouth, Bucky is a little shit, and everyone learns why keeping secrets never ends well.

Almost never, anyway.

Heartlines by nanasekei (MCU/7.9K) 

“Let me,” Tony repeats. He regrets it deeply, so much, he wants to stick the words back into his mouth again, and it must show, in the way his voice wavers. He feels exposed, all of a sudden, as if he’s asking something bigger than what he can actually say. Let me touch you, let me take care of you. “Just… Let me do it.”

i found a way to let you in, but i never really had a doubt (marriage series) by quidhitch (Marriage Series/16k) 

Tony Stark doesn’t believe in marriage. It’s nobody’s fault. —Well, it’s Howard's fault, probably, but Tony doesn’t like to think about that for too long, finds that it dredges up all sorts of issues he’d rather keep buried under a mountain of strategically employed sarcasm, humorous self-deprecation, and the occasionally effective substance abuse.

***Hide your love away by sineala (Soulmate/33K) - Reread

Tony has suspected for a long time that the soulmark on his chest matches Steve's -- but he's never told Steve about it. And then it's too late to tell Steve anything at all ever again. In the wake of Steve's death, the Skrull invasion, and Norman Osborn's rise to power, the identity of his soulmate is just one of the many things Tony cuts out of his memory forever.

When Tony returns to consciousness, he's forced to deal with the aftermath of a war he no longer remembers fighting, not to mention a Steve Rogers who can barely stand to be in the same room with him. Surely the last thing Tony could ever need in his life is more amnesia. But that's what he gets. And Tony's new missing memory just might be the key to finding out the truth of his soulmark... as well as his chance to make things right once and for all.

Break the chain (can’t live in circles again) by orphan_account (FWB/19K) 

There had been seven amazing weeks of dating Steve Rogers before Tony realised that they weren’t dating at all. And then it was a scramble to adjust to the situation as it had always been: being Steve’s friend-with-benefits.

And if Steve seemed a little confused and bewildered by the way Tony was acting, well. Tony was probably just misreading that, too.

Five times steve and tony (tried to) bail each other out of jail by Teyke (MCU/6k) 

Twice before Civil War, twice after, and once during. For very loose definitions of both 'bail' and 'jail'.

Cracked hearts under iron ribs by XtaticPearl (Established Relationship/14k)

Rhodey is away for almost six months now and comes to meet Tony after the mission. He doesn't understand the domesticity of the whole Tower and unknowingly sets off a whole truck of insecurities which make Tony crawl back into being a Stark instead of just Tony. The team is not at all happy and Rhodey joins them in trying to figure out a way to help their resident genius feel better in his skin.

The single biggest problem with communication by BlossomsintheMist (616/108K)

In the wake of Steve's return from the dead and the end of Norman Osborn's reign of terror, the superhero community is recovering--Steve has taken on a new role and Tony is trying to put his life back together. Things are still awkward between them, but they're determined to put things to rights. But when a discussion about their feelings leads to further misunderstandings, they discover that might be more difficult than either of them realized. Set in the early Heroic Age after the end of Dark Reign, this is a get-together story about crossed wires--and second chances.

What are friends for? by bobertsmallismydad (MCU /2.8K) 

In which Steve is targeted by a virus. Will the Avengers be able to save him in time?

Starving by festiveferret (Vampire AU/2K) 

Steve woke up starving.

***Everybody wonders (What it would be like to love you) by SoldiersShield (MCU/3K) 

“...Is that what this is about?” He asks slowly. Steve blanches.

“Oh my god. It is.” Tony has no right looking as giddy as he does. “Steven Grant Rogers, are you jealous?”

--

Or: Steve and Tony have been dancing around each other for a while now, and Steve's rather content with it. Attending a gala together just might change that.

Re(A)d all over by brandnewfashion, MusicalLuna (Drunk Flirting/3k) 

Contrary to popular belief, Tony Stark can blush.

It just takes Steve getting drunk on some magical Asgardian mead for it to finally happen.

***The Do-over Proposal by nightwalker (Established Relationship/1.2k) 

Steve wants to go on a journey, Tony doesn't think it's a good time, and Bucky needs to beat some sense into both these idiots.

A Winter’s Ball by alliejowrites (Victorian AU/3.8K) 

Steve moves to London in search of a patron, so that he can finally devote himself to painting. He is not expecting everything he finds upon meeting Lord Stark. A fluffy little Victorian AU. One-shot.

What’s a fanfic by starksnack (AvAc/1K) 

Kamala introduces Tony and Steve to the world of fanfiction. There is a surprising amount of content about them being gay.

[harrypotter-imaginess]

Part 1 Here!

Commission Info for letters from your favorite comfort character here! 

A/N: If you want to be added to the tag list for this, The draco muggle series, or the Fred and George Weasley best friends Series let me know!

- “What’s the hurry boss? Where are you heading off to?” One of your co -workers asks as you rush around the store double checking all the locks on the entrances and giving your plants one final spritz

- “Hot date?” The other asks with a suggestive raised eyebrow

- “Yes.” You say simply,

- They both sputter at that

- “What? Seriously?!”

- “With who??” The other shrieks

- And right on cue there’s a light tap on the door

- Cue your employees squealing again

- “Him?!?”

- “The hottie with a dye job?”

- George offers you a smile and a wave and you smile back

- “Ainsley I trust you can lock up?” You ask, pushing the key into their hand

- They only nod

- Henry’s looking at you with his his mouth open as he watches you leave, George and you smiling at each other like a couple of lovestruck fools

- “I told you he had a crush on them” Ainsley says with a grin and Henry has a blush blooming on his cheeks as he pulls a five pound note from his wallet

- “I mean I did too- I just didn’t think he would work up the nerve to actually ask them out.”

- A moment of silence fills the air

- “I bet Ten pounds they find out if that’s their natural hair color tonight” Ainsley says with a grin, and Henry looks at her with a slightly mortified expression

- I mean, the implication of how you would find that out is just-

- “Yeah alright, our boss is a prude there’s no way” he says shaking Ainsley’s hand.

- So when George meant dinner- he meant dinner

- You’re at the tower restaurant in downtown London

- It’s on the fiftieth floor at a skyscraper at the heart of London.

- He reserved a table specifically next to a window with a view of the canal and the London eye

- It’s quite spectacular

- “Have you been here before?” He asks

- You’re glad you dressed a little nicer than you were originally thinking

- “A few times, once for a birthday and once-“

- You’re interrupted by your server bringing a bottle of champagne

- George gets a puzzled expression, he hasn’t even ordered yet

- “Compliments of the Owner, we’re still grateful you were able to fulfill that order last minute when our other florist backed out.”

- “Not a problem Charles, it was my pleasure”

- When he’s gone George flashes you a smile

- “I feel like everyone knows you” he says, lifting up a champagne flute as you toast.

- “That was just one person” you say with a smile and a giggle

- “You should have been at the store last week, my brother wouldn’t shut up about you” he says with a grin

- “Who’s your brother?”

- George describes Ron, but it doesn’t spark anything in you until he mentions the red hair

- “Oh yes, Ronnie! He comes by every month to get flowers for his girlfriend, I didn’t know he was your brother”

- What a small world

- You should have seen the similarity from the start, the hair was a dead give away really

- How come no one else at the shop had noticed either?

- “Well one of them” George shrugs

- “How many brothers do you have”

- George grins

- “That’s enough for a volleyball team!”

- “We have a sister too, the running joke is our parents wanted a girl, just one”

- By the time the appetizers are being brought out George has got the family picture from when they visited Bill in Egypt out (charmed so it doesn’t move of course)

- “You have a twin?”

- You know the second you’ve asked it that you said something wrong

- It’s not that George looks upset, or that his expression has darkened-

- He just looks so sad

- The kind of sadness that’s as deep as the Mariana Trench, hidden behind a kind smile and the gentle warmth of longing

- “I did have a twin-“ George knew this would come up sooner or later, he just didn’t want to ruin the nice mood you had going so soon

- “He passed away a few years ago”

- George is waiting for the look-

- The wide eyes, and the slight pout. That overly sympathetic look he’s gotten so often, it’s only natural. It happens to everyone, he won’t hold it against you. 

- And it forms on your face a little, because you can’t imagine what it’s like to lose someone like that. But the next thing that comes out of your mouth is original

- “What was he like?”

- “What?” George is taken aback, he was expecting words of condolence, as is typical for this situation

- “You told me all about Bill, and Charlie, and Percy, and Ron, and Ginny-“

- Now he’s surprised that you’ve remembered all of his siblings names, and correctly at that

- “Now tell me about your twin”

- Your eyes are twinkling when they look to him. All of London stretches out behind you, like something from a painting. Your face is illuminated by the small candle in the middle of your table.

- It feels like something out of a movie, and George is afraid he might cry from the sheer beauty of it

- He never thought he would feel this way again

- “His name was Fred, and he was my best friend”

- He’s talked about Fred before, to his family, to his therapist and old classmates

- But he’s never had an experience quite like this

- “Umbridge? Oh she was the worst, like the bitter old nun who slaps your wrists with a ruler”

- Only worse

- “Anyway Fred and I- we planned this entire thing when we decided to leave school-“

- He tells you about the fireworks in the main hall of their boarding school, and the way they raced through the door and never came back

- “I think I would have liked Fred” you say, a warm look in your eyes

- He would have liked you too, George wants to say

- But that’s a little forward for the first date, he feels like he’s already unloaded enough with his broken family and their loss

- Lucky for him, dessert has just arrived

- “Compliments of the owner, we hope to see you both here again” Charles tells you, setting down two impressive plates of Tiramisu

- “Why do I get the feeling that whatever you did was more than just a last minute order fulfillment?”

- You shrug

- “Well after the whole thing- they started contracting me to do their regular day to day flowers” you shrug, it’s not that big of a deal, fancy places like this use a few different vendors, they probably have a different one for each day

- Which is for the best since your shop can only handle a few days at most.

- It’s not that you can’t produce enough flowers or anything, it’s just you wouldn’t be able to give Ainsley and Henry the leisurely work hours you do now, not while maintaining quality for your existing customers

- And that’s a big no for you

- “I take it business was always this good?”

- With how successful you seem, he honestly can’t imagine you struggling

- You scoff

- “It was tough at first, when I was by myself.” You still remember your family telling you that it wasn’t to late to declare bankruptcy and get a real job. “Things got better when Ainsley showed up- holidays are still tough though.”

- “Ron’s told me all about the hour long line at Valentine’s Day” George says with a grin and you bury your face in your hands with a muffled groan

- “Oh it’s going to be terrible this year.” Valentine’s Day is still a few months away, but you can already feel the dread

- “We started doing appointments only last year- because the amount of people that just show up and ransack the place is just-“

- “Oh I know,” George says. “My store doesn’t even sell anything all that romantic, but the amount of people who show up last minute to buy anything- one time a bloke even bought the decorations I had up.”

- “Have you noticed-“ you voice lowers as you lean forward. “That’s it’s never people looking for things for their significant other, it’s always-“

- “For the mistresses?”

- You nod enthusiastically

- “I thought maybe it was just my store-“ George leans forward as well now, talking very quickly

- “No the same person who ordered flowers two months in advance for their husband, will spend thirty minutes begging for me to put a bouquet together for their special friend”

- George leans back and shakes his head

- “It’s crazy isn’t it? How many people cheat?”

- You sigh, leaning back into your chair shrugging

- “It’s not our place to judge.”

- Especially not when the person in question is shoving fifty quid in your face for a god d*mn cactus and a card

- George knows that, and he knows there have been times that the only reason he was able to keep his shop afloat after Fred left is because of Valentine’s Day

- But still- cheating just irks him

- It’s the most unforgivable thing a person can do, to betray the person they love the most like that

- George knows every relationship is different- and that things aren’t clear cut-

- But he can’t ever imagine doing that to someone

- “I don’t get it though, I can’t even get one lover, let alone two or more” you laugh, and George swears it looks like you’re glowing

- He feels a smile twitch at the corner of his lips, the mischievous streak in him rolling awake after what feels like years of slumber

- “What if I told you I was trying to change that?”

- His arm is on the table, the tips of his fingers brushing against yours slightly

- You feel your face grow hot as his words sink in one by one

- A smile spreading across you face

- “I would say, I’m looking forward to it.”

BONUS:

- “So did you find out if Hottie’s color is natural?” Ainsley asks, a mischievous smile curled onto their lips. 

- “Ainsley, his name is George, he owns a hobby store a few lanes over.” You say as you finish tying the bow on an arrangement. 

- There’s a second of silence in which Henry and Ainsley exchange a look. Henry’s feeling pretty confident right now, Ainsley might have worked here longer than him, but he feels like he knows you pretty well, and he-

- “And yes it is, so you should both stop calling him Dye Job.” You say with a smile twitching on your lips. 

- Henry.exe is broken.

- Ainsley has to hide their joy, internally cheering and wondering how to spend the money. 

- “H-how do you know that?” Henry asks, maybe you’re just saying it so he and Ainsley will stop teasing your new love interest. 

- You stop, looking up from your arrangement in slight wonder.

- Ah, he was right! It looks like you’re trying to come up with an excuse.

- “Well his brothers all seem to have that hair color, I think they get it from their Dad.”

- Ainsley and Henry.exe have stopped working. 

- “YoU mEt HiS fAmIlY??” Ainsley shrieks. 

[sukifans]

HELP ME // sokka

WARNINGS: language, a Bug

WC: 3.3k

A/N: a little somethin somethin for @fromthewatertribe’s 1k event! i had a lot of fun doing this drabble. i used 2 (“please help me”) and 8 (“i thought you loved me”) for this bad boy that definitely got away from me lmao

⇦ 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

Panic surged through Sokka when he checked his phone and saw he had about twenty missed calls from you over the past ten minutes. Just as he was about to call back, your contact photo popped up on the screen accompanied by the duck quack ringtone you’d set for yourself ages ago.

“I’ll be back,” he mumbled to Zuko, who nodded absently while preparing a customer’s tea. He stepped out the back of the Jasmine Dragon and slid his thumb across the screen. “Hello?”

“SOKKA, THANK FUCK!” You sounded like you were crying on the other end. He frowned, pulling the phone away from his ear in response to your screech.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Where are you?” he demanded over the ruckus of your wails. His hand dropped to his car keys in his pocket, ready to leave if you needed him.

“I’M AT HOME AND THERE’S A R-ROACH IN—“

Sokka groaned. “(Y/N), I’m at work. I cannot come kill a bug for you.”

Your blubbering paused. “B-But... I need help! And no one else will help me! Please help me!”

“As much as I want to help you I can’t right now, princess. I can swing by after we close in about an hour, though.”

You made a strangled sort of screaming sound and hung up. He brought his hand down, staring at his screen in surprise. The line was busy when he tried to call you back, so he pocketed his phone with a sigh and headed back inside.

Zuko was speaking on the store phone with someone when he got back to the front, making a face like he had just eaten something sour or smelled something foul. Sokka shot him a questioning look as he tied his apron back around his waist and Zuko beckoned him over.

“What’s up?” Sokka asked in a low voice.

“Just go,” Zuko huffed. “I can finish closing by myself and she said she won’t stop calling us until you help her.”

“Wh- give me that.” He took the landline receiver from Zuko. “Seriously, (Y/N)?”

“I’M FREAKING THE FUCK OUT, SOKKA!”

“It’s a bug!”

“IT’S FUCKING HUGE AND IT’S IN MY FUCKING ROOM, PLEASE GET OVER HERE! I NEED YOU!”

He made eye contact with Zuko and his friend just shook his head. “Fine, okay, you win. I’m on my way.”

She hiccuped. “You’re the best friend I could ever ask for, Sokka. I love you. Please hurry.”

“Yeah, yeah. Love you, too, princess,” he grumbled before hanging up. Zuko was watching him with raised eyebrows. “Oh, fuck off, dude.”

“I didn’t say anything.” He tried to hide his smirk by turning away to wipe down the counter.

“Don’t look so smug.” He smacked the back of his friend’s head after he threw his apron in the laundry bag.

“Hey!” Zuko punched his shoulder. “It’s not my fault you’re whipped for (Y/N) and too much of a pussy to make a move.”

“You’re fucking lucky I’m whipped and have to go kill a bug for my girl otherwise I’d kick your ass, Zuko.” He flipped him the middle finger as he headed out the door, keys in his other hand.

“Later, princess.” Zuko twiddled his fingers mockingly in goodbye. Sokka scoffed as he left, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. Yeah, he was whipped for you. He was wrapped securely and comfortably around your pinky finger. So what? It wasn’t like he had plans to do anything about it. He was perfectly happy being your friend — your best friend, in your own words. No way in hell would he risk fucking that up and losing you.

When he banged on your apartment door you simply yelled from inside that it was unlocked. It was hard to suppress a laugh at the scene that greeted him. You were curled up on your kitchen counter, hood of your sweatshirt drawn tight around your head so only your nose and eyes were visible and a can of bug spray in your trembling hand. Your tear-streaked face lit up when you saw him and it made his heart clench in his chest.

“Hey, princess.”

“Sokka!” You dropped the can and threw yourself at him. He caught you in his arms with a grunt and you wrapped your legs around his middle, clinging to his neck. His hands supported your back to keep you upright. “God, I’ve never been so happy to see you in my life. I could fucking kiss you right now.”

He had to recover quickly from almost choking on air in order to keep his composure. “Just doing my manly best friend duties.” He gulped when you slid down his body. Your feet hit the floor again but you still held onto him. “Alright, where’s the big bad bug?”

You glared up at him for his teasing. “My room. I was about to go take a shower when it fucking flew at my face! I don’t even know where it came from!”

“Stand by, princess,” he ruffled your hair and pulled off one of his sneakers to wield as a bludgeon, “I’ve got it all under control.” You rolled your eyes a bit when he puffed his chest out and flexed comically. You released him from your vice grip so he could stalk up to the closed door of your bedroom. Of course, you stayed planted firmly in the kitchen and watched from a distance.

“Be careful,” you warned, “it’s literally the biggest roach I’ve ever seen.”

“It may be big, but I’m bigger. And smarter.” He tapped his temple with his finger.

“I don’t know about that second part,” you giggled. He shot you a withering look.

“Do you want me to kill this thing or not?”

“Yes, sorry! You are so very strong and intelligent and handsome, Sokka. Much more strong and intelligent and handsome than the roach.”

“You know what? I’ll take that compliment.” He winked at you, sending your heart into your throat. You stuck your tongue out and made a face to hopefully hide how flustered you were.

“Stop flirting and kill the fucking bug!”

“You started it!”

“Sokka!” Laughing, he pushed open the door to your bedroom and disappeared inside. You watched the doorway with bated breath, listening to Sokka rummaging around to find the vermin.

There was an almighty thud, then a crash and a shriek along with thundering footsteps as your friend dashed out of the room with a massive roach flying behind him. You screamed too when you spotted the bug as it landed on your wall. Before you could react any further, Sokka had grabbed you and yanked you out the front door, slamming it shut behind you both.

“That’s no ordinary roach,” he panted, leaning against the door. He still held you close to his torso with an arm wrapped protectively around your waist. “Fucking military drone or something.”

“Did you think I was fucking joking?” Your stomach churned uneasily thinking about the insect walking all over your walls and prized possessions. A shudder ran down your spine and you buried your face into his chest, grabbing a fistful of the front of his shirt. “What am I supposed to do now? I can’t go back in there with that thing loose!”

“I don’t know.”

“You were supposed to kill it!”

“It charged me!”

“You big chicken!” Looking up, you flicked his forehead and giggled at his incredulous look. “I thought you loved me!”

His face felt like it was on fire. “I do!”

“Then why didn’t you kill it? You were supposed to protect me, Sokka!” Your hands settled on his chest and he hoped you couldn’t feel how fast his heart was beating. “So much for being smarter and stronger!”

“But you admit I’m more handsome still?” Your cheeks burned when his hand slid to your hip, using his thumb to rub circles into your hipbone through the fabric of your clothes.

“More handsome than the roach?” You couldn’t help but laugh at his goofy smile. “I guess you qualify for that.”

“Tough crowd,” he sighed. “I was going to bring you back to mine so you could get out of your roach-infested apartment, but if that’s how you really feel then I’ll leave you with the stronger, smarter organism.”

“The roach?” you squeaked indignantly. He chuckled at your wide eyes. “I’m sorry, I changed my mind. You are the smartest and strongest and handsomest again. Please let me crash at your place?”

“Wow, using me for my sweet crib? And here I was thinking you loved me for me!”

“Pretty please?” You clasped your hands under your chin, pouted, and gave him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.

He groaned dramatically and rolled his eyes as if he were being greatly put out. “You know I can’t say no to that face. Let’s go, princess.” He disentangled himself from you and started to walk away only to realize you weren’t following. He turned back to you. “(Y/N)?”

You looked down at your socked feet. “I don’t have shoes. Or my keys.”

“I’m not going back in there.”

“Well, I’m not either.”

“Then it seems we’re at a stalemate.”

You pursed your lips thoughtfully. “Do you still have that spare key I gave you when I went out of town?”

“Good thinking, kid.” He shuffled around his key ring until he found yours, easily identifiable by the heart you’d painted onto it with your favorite nail polish. “Way to use your noodle.” He locked your front door and stood in front of you once again.

“Shoes,” you said simply, extending your leg to lift your foot in the air. “I’m not walking around like this. Knowing my luck I’ll step on a used needle and end up with some rare blood disease.” Sokka scratched the back of his neck as he considered this before a wicked grin split across his face. You did not like the looks of that. “Sokka...”

Without warning, he grabbed you around your middle and hoisted you onto his shoulder like a sack of flour. The inversion of your body made you squeal, scrambling to grab something to stabilize yourself. In your panic, you sunk your nails into the flesh of his ass.

“Jesus!” He gripped you tighter to stop you from slipping in his surprise. “I know I have an irresistibly fat ass but you gotta be careful back there, babe. That’s my moneymaker!”

If all your blood hadn’t been already rushing to your head you would’ve flushed. “That’s what you get for picking me up, asshole!” You paused. “What the fuck are you talking about, ‘your moneymaker?’”

“Well, I couldn’t have you stepping on a used needle and ending up with some rare blood disease, now could I?” You could practically hear his smirk as he carried you down to the front of your building.

“Do you derive joy from driving me up a wall?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. You made an indignant noise and pinched his side. He yelped and smacked the back of your bare thighs in response.

“Did you just spank me?” You thrashed in protest, making him stumble a bit.

“No,” he grunted and then brought his hand down on your ass, eliciting a gasp from you. “Now I did.”

“Sokka!”

“That’s ‘Daddy’ to you, princess.” He tried to drop his voice an octave to sound stern but he couldn’t suppress his laughter. You were just glad he couldn’t see your face.

“I’m going to throttle you when you put me down,” you threatened.

“Kinky.”

“You know what? I’ll take my chances with the roach. Bring me back, you fucking deviant.”

He dropped you down to the ground and you leaned back against his car door, looking away from his face. “Aw, you’re hurting my feelings, babe. I seem to remember someone telling me—“

You clapped your hand over his mouth before he could continue. “That’s enough out of you, thanks.” You could feel his smile against your palm at the reference to a highly inappropriate conversation you’d had together when you were both extremely drunk. You recoiled when he licked your hand.

“Alright, alright; let’s go home. I’m exhausted.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you muttered without any malice as he reached around you to open the passenger door. He simply gave you that same shit-eating grin and closed your door.

Sokka decided to spare your pride and carried you up to his apartment on his back instead of over his shoulder. His hands on your thighs, shifting your position every so often, made your heart race. You could still catch whiffs of the tea from the Jasmine Dragon off his clothes, mingling with the masculine smell of his deodorant. The combination put you at ease after the trauma of dealing with the roach and you sighed happily, setting your chin on his shoulder and pressing your cheek against his. The stubbly scruff along his jaw prickled at your skin but you couldn’t find it in you to care much.

You thought he’d drop you down onto his couch once you’d entered his apartment but instead he carried you into his bedroom and flopped backwards onto his mattress, knocking the wind out of your chest as he squished you under his body. Despite the squeezing weight on your lungs you were laughing uncontrollably, arms still thrown around his shoulders. Sokka wished he could have moments like this with you every night; that he could turn around and kiss you without ruining everything.

“Why so giggly, kid? Are you enjoying this?” he teased, leaning his head back onto your chest.

“Laughter is my panic response. You’re suffocating me, fatass,” you wheezed

“Nah, I think you like it.”

You hummed thoughtfully as the giggles subsided. “Maybe. You’re kinda like one of those weighted blankets.”

“Yeah?” He turned so he faced you, propping himself up on his forearms on either side of your head. “Do I relieve your anxiety?”

You quirked an eyebrow. “The opposite, actually.”

“You wound me, really. I am a calming, peaceful, meditative presence. I am a delight and a joy to be around.” He frowned when you threw your head back in incredulous laughter. You hooked your leg around his hips and flipped him onto his back, pinning him underneath you.

“Maybe you have your moments.” He stared wide-eyed up at your teasing smile and considered closing the space between your mouths. Before he could work up the nerve, you sat back on your haunches out of reach. “I need to shower.”

“Without me?” he pouted. You groaned and shoved his face into the mattress as you stood.

“Don’t wait up, baby.” He flushed at the nickname you used to tease him. He propped himself up on his elbows to see you down the hall.

“I’ll take the couch tonight,” he said. You stopped just outside the bathroom door.

“Sokka, we don’t have to do this every time. I think it’s okay if we just sleep in the same bed without arguing over who gets the couch at this point.”

“If you’re alright with it,” he sighed, dropping his head back down.

“Why wouldn’t I be? It’s you.” You gave him a quick smile before disappearing into the bathroom.

You always secretly loved staying over with Sokka. The lather of his soap running down your body into the drain made you feel wrapped in his presence — a great comfort despite your teasing that suggested otherwise. His meticulous organizing even in the shower always made you laugh a little to yourself. His products were neatly organized in the order he used them, likely something he started doing when you’d dragged him to a beauty store after finding out he used 3-in-1 “for efficiency.” Now, to your immense pride and satisfaction, he had a full skincare and haircare routine.

Upon exiting the shower wrapped in a towel, you saw Sokka snoring lightly on his bed next to a pile of clothes he’d left out for you. You pulled on his shirt and quickly wriggled under the covers, propping yourself up on your elbow. You poked your finger into his cheek and he grunted, swatting at you.

“Leave me alone, woman,” he murmured.

“You need to shower.” He cracked an eye open to glare at you.

“You’re awfully demanding for a guest in my bed.”

“Well, you worked today and you stink.”

“That’s just my natural man musk. Pheromones and stuff. Nothing to be done about it.”

“Are you an ant?”

“Only if you’ll be my queen ant.” He sent you a cocky smirk and you simply shook your head.

“You’re fucking weird, dude.” He laughed and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you directly into his armpit as you squealed. Finally you freed yourself and rolled onto your side away from him with a huff. Sokka slid behind you and rested his head on your shoulder, sliding his arm around your waist.

“You know you love me, princess.”

“Whatever,” you grumbled. He chuckled and the sound reverberated against your back, his warm breath on your cheek making goosebumps rise on your skin. His thumb slid absently back and forth across your stomach and the soft touch lulled your heavy eyelids closed.

“Don’t go to bed mad, babe. At least give me my goodnight kiss.”

Enough. It’s now or never.

Before you could start second-guessing yourself, you rolled onto your back underneath him and surged upwards to press your lips to his in an insistent kiss. It lasted only a few moments before you pulled away because he remained frozen against you. His clear blue eyes were wide as he stared down at you and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks and the tears threatening to spill as you realized what you’d done.

“You shouldn’t flirt if you don’t mean it, Sokka. It gives people the wrong idea,” you whispered, the corners of your mouth pulling into a frown. His gaze darted from your eyes down to your lips and back again.

“Who says I don’t mean it?” And then he was finally, finally kissing you before you could tell him off. You snaked your arm around his shoulders and pulled him down on top of you, desperate to be closer, to feel his body on your own to reassure yourself that yes, this was happening and it was real. His hand trailed up to cup your face, skimming his thumb gently along your cheekbone. You both broke away to gasp for air. Sokka looked down at your flushed cheeks and bright eyes and lips that were just beginning to swell and he thought you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Oh, don’t look so pleased with yourself,” you laughed, swiping your thumb over his satisfied smile on your way to pull the tie from his ponytail. The ends of his loose hair tickled your face as he kissed you again, this time much more gentle.

“And why shouldn’t I be?” Another kiss. “I’m kissing the girl I’ve been in love with for years.” Your eyes widened and you shoved him back onto the bed.

“Years?” you squeaked. “We could’ve been doing this for years?”

“I didn’t know you had feelings for me!”

“Of course I had feelings for you, are you joking?”

“Then why didn’t you do anything before now? I flirt with you constantly!”

“Because I thought you were joking!”

“Well, that’s on you, then. Now c’mere, princess,” he reached out and hugged you close to his body again, “we have a lot of time to make up for.”

“God, you’re such a cornball.” You giggled at the teasing kisses he peppered all over your face. When he finally caught your lips you hummed happily against his mouth. He tasted sweeter than the most tooth-rotting candy and gave you the same sugar high.

“Yeah, but you love it.”

“I do.” You snuggled down under the blanket and rested your head on his chest. “I love you, Sokka.”

He ruffled your hair affectionately. “I love you too, princess.”

“You still need to shower, though.”

“Ugh.”

ATLA TAGS: @hotgirlazula @octophopi

SOKKA/ZUKO TAGS: @fiantomartell