#which is half of my night just GONE bc it takes me like thirty minutes to eat dinner

[teruthecreator]

oghhhhh starting to get that kind of world-weary depression that comes when i dont have enough freetime to do fun shit

[silversatoru]

Ok ok- don’t judge me but get this- College AU, Where Ereh and his friends all go to a nearby maid cafe and turns out his s/o works there, and his s/o is wearing a EXTREMELY short maid outfit and she starts to flirt with Eren’s friends, and basically Eren had enough and dragged his s/o to a bathroom stall, and fucked them calling y/n their little slut, etc. and fucked them so hard they couldn’t work the rest of the day- BYE- 🏃🏻‍♀️ 💨 🚪

maid cafe

a/n: i would never judge you for this???? your mind is incredible and this idea has corrupted my brain for days,, please send more of your wonderful ideas to my inbox. and please let me know what u think bc i truly hope i did u proud

eren yeager x female maid cafe!reader

synopsis: eren and his friends go to a maid cafe and his new girlfriend is their waitress — so he drags her to the bathroom and makes sure she knows who she belongs to

tags/warnings: smut, dom/sub, degrading, mild humiliation, mirror sex, public sex, mentions of drug use

word count: 3.4k

“hey, we should check out that maid cafe downtown. i heard the waitresses are fine,” jean smirked as he proposed the idea, passing a blunt he’d just finished rolling over to eren.

eren graciously accepted the weed, but clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes at jean’s new idea for their friday night. a maid cafe wasn’t particularly up his alley -- he’d just started dating you a few weeks ago and didn’t have any interest in drooling over other women all night. but he was bored and if everyone else wanted to go, he supposed he’d tag along too.

“hell yeah, pretty girls in short skirts sounds good to me,” connie jived, a giddy smile on his face as he blew out some smoke from his own blunt.

“don’t you think that kind of place is a little disrespectful, guys? we shouldn’t view women as-”

“you’re too uptight armin, maybe we can find a nice girl to suck you off and loosen you up a little bit” jean laughed and cut him off as the blonde boy continued to give his immature friends a disapproving look.

“whatever i’m in, just let me finish this first,” eren held up his blunt and took another long drag, “i wont be able to stand you assholes all night if im not high”.

the four of them hung around their shared four-bedroom college apartment a little longer, finishing up their smoke sesh and flinging half-assed insults at one another. the sky was already getting dusky by the time they actually left and were walking through the small, bustling town surrounding their campus. the cafe wasn’t too far, maybe a thirty minute walk, but it was a beautiful spring night and shit, gas is expensive.

armin’s face was horribly flushed when they finally arrived and entered the front door, the poor boy completely unable to even make eye contact with the hostess standing in front of them. his shyness earned him a swift elbow from eren — his way of telling the blonde boy to relax a little bit.

the young hostess spoke to them in a sing-song tone, her hair perfectly curled to frame her face and her cheeks pink with blush. connie and jean completely ate up everything she was doing, gawking at her like a bunch of losers who hadn’t gotten laid in way too long — which is exactly what they were. eren was almost relieved when she finally sat them at a table and walked away, because he couldn’t stand to listen to jeans' horrendous attempt at flirting any longer.

everything on the menu had cute names that matched the theme of the cafe, and while eren and armin browsed the options, connie and jean continued to whisper about the different waitresses and which one they hoped they got.

as for you, it had been a pretty uneventful night, normal customers and nothing too crazy — that was until you walked up to the newest table you were assigned and saw your boyfriend and his friends sitting around the booth. eren and you hadn’t been dating all that long, a few weeks at most, and you hadn’t even met any of these friends yet. anxiety began to pool in your chest, but you tried your best to put on your best voice and greet them like they were any other table — after all, eren was staring so intently at the menu that he hadn't even noticed you yet.

“welcome home, masters! can i get any drinks for you?” you push your voice up to a high octave and make sure to draw out the word masters — it was the opening line that every waitress was required to use by the cafe.

two of the four boys are ogling at you so intensely that they might as well have drool hanging off their desperate lips. a third boy is keeping his eyes fixated on the table as if he doesn’t want to look at you — which is something you’re not quite used to. and eren is staring at you with his mouth gaping open, which he quickly shuts before any of his friends can notice.

he decided to sit back and watch, an amused look on his face as you continue to flaunt your extra-girly facade. he decides that now isn’t a great time for introductions to his bonehead friends — plus he knows you’re nothing like this in real life, so it’s entertaining to watch you act so out of character.

not to mention you look hot as fuck in your skimpy maid outfit — the tight corset-like top hugged your breasts perfectly and your skirt was so short he could practically see the base of your ass cheeks. he could definitely get used to seeing you like this.

but his amusement quickly started to fade as connie and jean shamelessly showered you in compliments and flirted with you like their lives depended on it. and what makes it worse is you’re playing along — he gets that it’s your job but still, can’t you just tell them to shut the fuck up?

he shoots the two idiots across from him a dirty look as soon as you walk away, “hey dumbasses, cut the girl a break”.

“hey man, i didn't hear you call dibs or anything,” connie raised an eyebrow at him.

“yeah dude, we’re just fucking around, chill,” jean added, a light laugh hanging off his last word.

eren couldn’t do anything but roll his eyes in response. he didn’t want to outright expose your relationship yet but he wouldn’t be able sit here and watch this all night either.

his blood was practically boiling when you returned with a tray full of their drinks. connie and jean turned their charms right back on for you, and fuck, if he had to hear you call them “master” one more time he was gonna lose his mind.

“armin get the fuck out of the booth,” he glared at the blonde boy, practically pushing him out of the booth so he could get to you.

armin yet out a small yelp, clambering out of his seat and letting eren climb out after him. the dark haired boy gave you the sweetest smile, but his eyes were lit up like flames.

“hey, mind showing me where the bathrooms are?”

you find yourself frozen in place for just a second, but quickly recover and give him a quick “of course master, follow me!”

the two of you walk to the bathroom in silence, but you can practically feel the heat radiating off of eren.

when you reached the restrooms you opened the door for him and bowed your head, but he grabbed your wrist and yanked you inside behind him, earning a small yelp from you. you noticed him snap the lock down behind him, and before you could even question his motives you were backed into a wall with his lips working roughly against yours.

“so this is what you do all day? walk around with your ass hanging out while calling people master?” he growled in your ear while moving down towards your neck and placing violent kisses along the sensitive skin.

“i- ah- if it bothers you-“ you breath out between gasps, your hands pressed defensively to his chest, “god, you reek of pot, eren”.

“no, it doesn't bother me, i love watching you flirt with other men. but let me remind you who you actually belong to now,” he murmured, voice dripping with sarcasm as he nibbled up to your ear and his hands fondled with the zipper at the back of your uniform.

“eren!” a strangled yelp leapt from your throat as he unzipped you and let your costume fall around your ankles.

for a second you thought about trying to stop him, but his hot lips against your cool skin was starting to win you over. your neck was undoubtedly covered in bruised love marks now, your skin aching in the most beautiful way.

“take it all off,” he mumbled into your ear as he snapped the strap of your bra against your skin.

“we’re in a bathroom eren, i don’t-“ you tried to reason with him, but any inkling of a rational thought was long gone from his mind.

“what’s with all the protests? you had no problem following orders when my friends were the ones giving them,” he cocked an eyebrow at you and lifted his loose shirt over his head in one swift motion.

you could have retorted or made a jab back at him, but your attention was caught up in the perfect lines of eren’s physique. between the sculpted curves of each of his muscles, his dark hair tied in a loose knot at the base of his neck, and the evil smirk across his lips, you were rendered indefensible. everything about eren was so intoxicating, and the idea of letting him have his way with you right now, in this bathroom, was starting to sound less and less like a bad idea. you weren’t sure how long you’d been staring and admiring when his lusty voice filled your ears again.

“did you forget how to use that pretty mouth of yours? i’m sure i can give you a little refresher,” he faked a frown and pointed to the floor with his index finger.

without a shred of reluctance you sunk to his feet. he had you in a state of utter compliance now, and all he had to do was mutter a few arrogant words and take off his shirt — you were almost ashamed, almost.

after a few smooth movements of his fingers against the drawstrings of his sweats, the tip of his member was hanging mere centimeters from your face. you glanced up at him with giant eyes as he stared down at you with his clouded ones. between his raging hunger for your body and the high that was still clouding his mind, there wasn't a single coherent thought in eren’s head other than the way your lips would feel wrapped around his cock.

“open up, princess. if you wanna act like a slut, i’ll treat you like one,” he grabbed the back of your head and forced it forward.

your lips parted without even thinking, and he thrusted his full length down your throat without any warning. you were left coughing and sputtering, the walls of your throat constricting against his cock and sending a few curses from his lips.

he slowed down slightly after that, but kept a steady pace as he mouth-fucked you until tears were leaking down your cheeks. you were gagging and coughing and your face was stained with salty saline but you loved every second of it. his head rolled back as raspy grunts fell from between his teeth, his fist tightening at your scalp.

after he thought you’d finally had enough he pulled back and released your hair from his steel grip. his cock was aching now, coated in a thick layer of your sticky saliva and yearning for more.

“get on the counter,” he ordered, and you scrambled to your feet in a way that was embarrassingly desperate.

you boosted yourself up onto the cool countertop, positioned perfectly between two sinks and leaning back against the mirror. eren placed a firm grip on each of your legs, shoving them open and snickering at the slick patch of fabric between your thighs.

“you like being treated like a whore, don’t you?” he clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth and reached down at your panties before yanking them off in one fell swoop.

he squatted down so his face was level with your cunt, sticking out his tongue and dragging it up to your clit with antagonizing slowness. he moved the warm muscle up and down, sliding it between your folds and in circles around your clit — but his tongue was just barely making contact. and every time you bucked your hips towards him, begging and yearning for just a little more he’d pull his head back and click his tongue at you.

you were aching, leaking, and so incredibly needy for him and he knew it. he’d transformed you into the crumpled mess laying before him in a matter of minutes, and he was very proud of it.

“i’d start begging if i were you, or i’ll leave you here like this — a stupid broken slut with no one to fuck her,” he stood up and cocked his head to the side before beginning to tease your entrance with a single finger.

“ah- eren, please! i’ll do whatever you want,” you whimpered at him, a pitiful look on your face.

“eren? you know you’re not supposed to call customers by their name here,” he shook his head, “you’ll have to do better than that”.

“please- master, use me however you want. just please fuck me already”.

that seemed to suffice for eren, because after that it didn’t take long for him to shealth himself inside you and have your sweaty back slamming into the glass mirror behind you. strangled moans and pitiful whimpers slipped from between your lips, your eyes rolling back into your head in complete bliss. he’d teased and tormented you for so long that the sudden intense stimulation was almost too much.

he fucked himself into you so hard you thought you might break — your legs ached and your back hurt from awkwardly leaning into the mirror. but those feelings were quickly pushed to the back of your head because the overwhelming pleasure was so forceful that you could barely focus on anything else. eren’s length was grinding deep into your aching caverns so good that it was completely clouding your brain.

you let out a stifled gasp when he abruptly pulled out, leaving you feeling empty and aching for more.

“why-,” your voice was so destitute and so, so desperate.

“shut up and stand in front of me,” he commanded, pulling you off the counter and twisting you so you were facing the bathroom mirror.

“look at yourself in the mirror and watch me fuck you,” he practically snarled, placing a palm on your back and pushing your chest down against the counter, “look at how much of a slut you are for me”.

the only response that came out of your mouth was a tiny whine of acceptance — it was pathetic.

a breathy moan fell from your lips as he slid back in, and your cheeks blushed a dark shade of red as you watched yourself get fucked from behind. it was embarrassing, humiliating even, having to see yourself like this, but what made it even worse was that you fucking liked it.

“look at yourself,” he nodded towards the mirror, picking up his pace and tightening his grip on your hips, “just a dumb whore who’s good for nothing but taking orders from other people”.

“only- you!” you let out a strangled yelp.

“what was that? i don’t think i heard you,” he thrusted hard, reaching deeper than he had the entire time and then leaning over your back so his head was positioned right next to yours.

“say it again,” he murmured, burning holes through your eyes with how intensely he was staring at you in the mirror.

“i’m a dumb whore, but only for- you,” you repeated, squirming and whining at the painful pleasure he was forcing into you.

“that’s right,” he flashed you a satisfied grin, standing back up and resuming his original pace.

the sudden shift had you clawing at the smooth countertops — desperately wishing you had a pillow or sheet to grasp onto for some kind of support. you flinched when you felt a couple of his cool fingertips find your clit, immediately rubbing hasty circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“i want you to come for me,” he locked eyes with you in the mirror again, “and i want you to think about how i’m the only one who will ever make you feel this good the entire time”.

his words were harsh but they sounded like honey when they flowed through your pathetically devoted ears. between his consistent thrusts and the pads of his fingers working their magic, you were a pitiful mess of whimpers and moans in a matter of minutes. your body twitching and legs shaking as you mumbled his name over and over — it was the only word your brain could comprehend right now.

seeing you like that nearly pushed eren over the edge himself, but he forced himself to last a little longer, wanting to milk your orgasm for everything that it was. he was genuine when he said no one else would ever make you feel the way he could — your head was spinning and your body was on a high that felt like it would never end.

only once your body finally fell limp and tired, signifying that your climax had ended, did he pull out and spray his seed all over your exposed back. you were a sticky, sweaty mess and your legs didn’t have the strength to stand even after eren was done coming down from his own high.

your face was buried in your arms when you felt a wet paper towel cleaning up the mess of semen off your back. eren tossed the towel into the garbage and wrapped his arms under your torso so he could help your pitiful self stand up. you let out a few pained whimpers, stumbling into his arms and wrapping your hands around his neck.

“that bad, huh? how are you gonna go back out there and work for all your masters? i’m sure they’re waiting,” he smirked at you, and there was no sympathy in his voice.

“i- i don’t think i can,” you whined, clinging to him as your legs continued to shake underneath you.

eren shook his head and clicked his tongue, helping you over to your clothes and assisting you with getting back into your uniform. even after getting dressed your legs refused to work — you were a shaky, stumbling mess. you sat in a pitiful heap against the tiled wall while you watched eren get his own clothes back on.

“i think you might need a new job,” he snickered, squatting down and lifting you onto his back once he was dressed.

you graciously climbed onto his back, arms wrapping around his neck and burying your face into his neck, “yeah, yeah i’ll get a new job”.

“good idea, because everyone’s about to see how pathetic you are as we walk through the cafe,” he wrapped his arms back under your backside to support your weight.

“there’s a back exit right down the hall, please take that one,” you begged, “please”.

“well. since you asked so nicely and did so well i guess you deserve that,” he complied, exiting the bathroom and following your directions to the back door.

but because you have the worst luck in the world, one of the cafe managers came walking right around the corner just as the two of you were about to leave. you buried your head deeper into eren’s neck, unbearable amounts of embarrassment and shame flooding your veins.

“hey man, she quits, sorry!” eren yelled and handled it for you, dashing out the back door before the manager could even comprehend what he’d just seen.

“thank you,” you mumbled into his shirt, and you were truly thankful that you didn’t have to speak for yourself in there.

“no problem, princess,” he adjusted one of his hands so he could squeeze your ass, making you jump against his back, “let’s head back to my house for round two, yeah?”

“r-round two?” you stuttered.

you could barely handle round one, and he was ready to go again? how!?

“i’m joking, relax. let’s go watch a movie or something,” he chuckled, hoisting you higher on his back and beginning your long walk back to his apartment.

you sighed and sunk into his back, that sounded nice. there was a huge difference in how eren acted earlier and how he was acting now, but you were a sucker for both personalities. you expected college to consist of classes and work and maybe a few new friends but meeting eren yeager was sure to make it a lot more interesting.

[dameronology]

home {poe dameron x reader}

summary: poe made a promise to always come home, and it’s one he’s determined to keep

warnings: swearing, mentions of injuries 

more hurt/comfort fluff?? i almost sent myself off to sleep writing this bc of the ending and bc i am shattered. anyhoo, enjoy!

- jazz

p.s i skimmed this, but it has not been properly proof read haha oops pls bare with me, i will do it in the morning 

It had only been five days. 

You’d been apart from Poe for far longer than that; sometimes weeks, sometimes months. It was just part of being in the Resistance, and something you both knew you had to do, but it didn’t make it any easier. You must have had some pretty foul luck to have met the love of your life during a time in which the galaxy insisted on keeping you apart - but one look at the pilot, and all that faded away. He always made it home to you, no matter what. He’d made that promise to you pretty early in the relationship, and you knew it to be true. You could never doubt Poe. 

The Blue Squadron was due back to base at midday; the mission had been pretty secretive, so the comms lines had been shut most the time. Even after begging Leia to let you man the singular one that connected you to Poe, she’d refused, knowing it would only make things worst. The General only ever spoke from experience, and she had plenty in waiting around for cocky pilots. Whilst Poe was arguably a little less reckless than Han, she knew that you would both act as a distraction to one another’s work. You were equally important to the Resistance, and she couldn’t have you moping about on a commslink for hours a day. The joke was on her for that one, because you still moped, even when you weren’t trying to reach your guy. 

 ‘What time is it?’ You asked Finn. 

‘11.56.’ He glanced over at you, eyebrows raised. ‘So the same time as when you asked thirty seconds ago.’ 

‘I’m just anxious.’ You grumbled. ‘I’ve been so lonely the last five days.’

‘You mean the last five days that you’ve spent with me?’

‘Hey, it’s nothing personal!’ You nudged him in the ribs. ‘You miss him too.’

‘I do.’ Finn nodded. ‘We really are just a pair of simps.’

‘Friends who simp together, stay together.’ You grinned. ‘And if me and Poe ever break up, you have first dibs.’

‘Same for you, if Rey and I ever break up-’

‘- that would require you getting together in the first place.’ You reminded him. Finn could only scowl in response. 

‘I’m trying!’ He held his hands up in defense. ‘It’s just complicated.’

‘Nothing’s complicat - they’re here!’ 

You leapt off the crate you’d been sat on, sprinting across the hangar to where a fleet of X-Wings were grouping. Jess came in first, followed by Snap, and then Kare. Poe’s jet was the last to come in, which was unusual for him. He almost always lead the squad - aside from the time he’d managed to blow an engine and had to call you out to tow him back (it’s how you’d met, actually). Bar a few new dents and scratches, his jet looked to be in decent condition, with BB-8 whirring away from where he was perched in the back. You took that to be a good sign, even if he’d been the last to get in. 

A crowd of mechanics reached the fleet before you, tools in hand and ready to repair whatever damage the First Order had thrown at them. You gave Jess a smile and a high five as you passed, but your line of sight was dead set on finding the curly-haired pilot. You had to elbow your way through the crowd, heartbeat picking up as you did. Man, you’d missed him. The last few weeks had been rough for you both and being constantly pulled apart only made it worst. All you wanted to do was to see him, to hug him and-

- You hit Poe with a thud, chests colliding. He immediately wrapped you up in his arms, pulling you tightly against his chest and burying his head against yours. He smelt faintly of jet fuel and smoke, which was fitting. 

His lips were on yours the minute he’d let you go, hands tightly gripping your cheeks as he kissed you with all his might. Yeah, he’d missed you too.

‘Hey, baby.’ You couldn’t help but smile, eyes finally meeting - it didn’t last long though, not when you saw the state of his face. ‘Oh my god. Your eye! And your lip! And-’

‘- I missed you.’ Poe brushed it aside, pressing another exhausted kiss to your lips.   

‘I missed you too.’ You softly sighed. ‘The fuck happened to your face, though?’

‘Just...First Order stuff.’ He bit his lip, brown eyes falling to the floor. 

You sighed. ‘Shit, Poe.’ 

‘I know. He gently nodded. ‘I’m okay though. I’m here with you. That’s the important thing.’

‘You’re right.’ You agreed. ‘C’mon, I’ll take you to medical-’

He cut you off with a groan. ‘Let’s just go back to my room. Please?’ 

‘But your face.’ You gently ghosted a thumb across his bruised cheek, flinching when he shuddered slightly. ‘I mean...I have a first aid kit. I can always take a crack at it.’

‘That sounds a lot nicer than those nurse droids.’ He smiled. 

‘But you have to promise to get checked over tomorrow, okay?’

‘I promise.’

Poe flung his arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his side as you headed out the hangar. His own room was actually in the opposite direction, but he practically lived with you in yours. It always felt so much nicer. You’d managed to make it a lot homier, with photos of the two of you and fairy lights strung up. The scent of your perfume always lingered in the air and sleeping in your bed was the closest he could get to you when you were away on missions. In return, he left his jumpers and hoodies laying around for you to have free reign of. It was a weak form of paying rent, but he hadn’t heard any arguments. 

You could tell that Poe was tired from the way he walked. He usually had a swagger in his step, smiling at everyone who passed. Now, he was leaning on you for support, dark eyes staring dead ahead with exhaustion, his brain working at a thousand miles an hour to process what he’d witnessed over the last few days. You’d been on his mind the entire time.

‘Here we go.’ You gently lead him to the bed, helping him shrug off his charred flight suit. He caught your lips in a chaste kiss as you moved it off his shoulders, hands suddenly grabbing yours. 

‘You know I love you, right?’

‘Of course. I love you too.’ You murmured. ‘Is something up?’

Poe pulled you down onto the bed beside him, eyes finally meeting yours. ‘I just...I got captured on the mission. Very briefly, but still. It was scary, and there was a moment when I wasn’t sure I was gonna make it back.’

‘Poe.’ Your breath caught in your throat. ‘Is that why your face is all...’

‘Like this?’ He chuckled slightly. ‘Yeah. I’m sorry.’

‘Hey, don’t be.’ You squeezed his hands. ‘It’s not your fault, and like you said earlier, the important thing is that you here now.’

‘I know, but I promised you, didn’t I? That I’d always come home?’

‘And you did.’ You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. ‘Now c’mon, I gotta stitch you up before this scars.’

‘I reckon I’d look hot with a couple battle scars, y’know.’

‘You would, but I’d rather you not bleed out all over my sheets for the sake of vanity.’ You smiled. 

Digging out your first aid kit, you grabbed a few cotton swabs and some bacta spray. You weren’t a nurse, but your medical skills weren’t terrible either. After a few too many injuries and close calls out in the field, you’d learnt the basics. Half of the scars on Poe’s body had been from your handiwork after he’d been injured -- some of them were a little wonky, but he hadn’t died yet, so you figured you’d done a decent job. The ones he’d done for you were much neater but in your defense, he was reckless as fuck and had a ton more experience in dealing with injuries. 

On the bright side, Poe’s torso seemed fine and relatively uninjured. The white shirt he was wearing was only smeared with soot from the blaster fire, and his bare arms were broad and uninjured, save for one scrape on his left bicep. Okay, maybe the broad part wasn’t relevant to the context, but it was definitely relevant on the whole. He did have good arms. You only ever truly felt safe when they were wrapped around you.

‘This might sting a little bit.’ You crouched between his legs, pouring a little bit of bacta spray onto the cotton swab. You gently wiped it across his forehead, doing a double take when he let out a hiss of pain. ‘You okay, baby?’

‘Yeah, I’m good.’ Poe’s eyes met yours, and he gave you a half smile. ‘Better now that you’re here.’

It didn’t take too long to clean up the rest of his cuts and bruises; they were relatively minor given what he’d been through. The last time he’d been caught by the First Order on Jakku, he’d come home ten times worse than this. You’d spent days by his side in the medical room, mostly chiding him for how funny he looked in the bactasuit, but also to offer emotional support. The duality of love. 

You finished up by wrapping a bandage around the cut on his left arm, gently tying it in place with a safety pin. It was enough to keep it clean and safe until tomorrow, when you’d hopefully be able to convince him to see an actual nurse. You knew that for now, he was tired and probably just wanted to rest. His eyes were sunken with tiredness, and his body had become more and more slumped as you’d gone about cleaning him up. Poe never slept well on missions; a mixture of anxiety and your absence always made for a bad night’s sleep. 

‘That should keep you in one piece for now.’ You said, running a hand through his hair. Poe leant into your touch, pressing a kiss to your wrist. ‘You should get some sleep.’

‘Mmm.’ He murmured. ‘You’re staying, right?’

'Absolutely.’ You offered him a soft smile. ‘Gotta lose the boots though. These are clean sheets.’

‘Can you do it for me?’ He asked, flopping back against the mattress. 

You rolled your eyes at his...Poe-ness, before leaning down and unzipping his shoes, tossing them in a pile across the room. Yours joined them, followed by your jacket and the crumpled flight suit. That was something else to worry about tomorrow. For now, your main focus was him. 

Poe climbed under the covers, shuffling across to make room for you. He reached out to you as you joined him, naturally wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. The tiredness really hit him then, and you could feel his body untense as you pressed a kiss to his jaw. His body was warm against yours, which was a welcome contrast after sleeping alone for the last few nights. 

‘I love you.’ Poe murmured quietly. 

‘I love you too.’ You peered up at him with a smile. 

‘And I’ll always come home to you.’ He gave your shoulders a light squeeze. ‘You know that, right?’

‘I do.’

‘I’ll never break a promise to you.’

‘I know.’ You softly sighed, trying to move closer to him (as though it were even possible).

It was hard for him to fight the exhaustion now that he was laying with you -- after a few moments, his breathing became a little deeper, and his grip on you a little looser. You pressed one last kiss to his cheek, before settling back against his side and letting sleep over take you. 

[2018shawn]

prosecco courage

warnings: unprotected sex bc they’ve had the discussion in my head prior to this night so if you haven’t wrap before you tap folks. smut obvs, swearing, light choking and a boy giving into a girls persistent ways

a/n: asbfjasds I feel like I'm so bad at smut I'm so sorry but nevertheless, here is 5k of it bc the live tonight finally got me to finish it. @shawnsmoose​ sent me an smol request about 20 years ago, so here it is n I'm sorry I don’t feel like I captured the choking very well sooooo big laughs 🥵👀 we’re here for a good time not a long time peace out x

Tom looked at the picture on his phone for probably the 176th time since you’d sent him it earlier this evening. Your phone was held in one of your hands, pointing towards the mirror to take the picture, a glass of prosecco in the other. Your body was covered in nothing but a matching, red lace underwear set, clinging to and showing off each asset of yours. He’d seen you in it once before and lost his shit back then and as it turns out – nothing has changed. Groaning and throwing his head back against his headboard, he tossed his phone aside, trying to get back to concentrating on writing the script in front of him. Deadlines were a bitch.

You, on the other hand, were in the corner of a club downtown, the red lace underwear covered by your sexiest black dress and topped off with patent, nude heels and matching bag. It was fun; the amount of alcohol you’d consumed soaking into your veins made it more fun that what you’d anticipated. You wanted nothing more than to go about your usual Saturday routine – face mask, bubble bath and your comfiest pyjamas. Or you most recent routine – face mask, bubble bath, your sexiest pyjamas and fucking the living daylights out of Tom.

The music was booming, the group of your girlfriends enjoying their time as they huddled around their booth, topping up their drinks from the ice-cold bucket in the middle of the table. You pulled your phone out your bag, feeling more annoyed as you clicked on your conversation with Tom seeing he hadn't sent anymore messages. After you’d sent the picture, he’d simply replied, be careful, let me know if you need picking up 💙

What a way to make you feel stupid, for not replying to the picture you’d sent to him. It had taken you almost half a bottle of prosecco before you’d even headed out the door to pluck up the courage to press send. It only spurred you on to drink more, to forget about embarrassing yourself to someone who wasn’t even your boyfriend yet. The more you drank, the more you thought he probably had girls throwing themselves at him; as much as he says he’s only seeing you, who’s to say he’s not the same as every other man you’ve dated?

It was getting to almost 1 o’clock, which you were proud of as a very rare clubber, but your drinking was slowing down, your stomach feeling full of fizz. Normally, you’d be straight on the phone to Tom, asking him to come get you but what was the point if he didn’t even want to see a picture of you. You gulped the rest of your drink in one go, picking up your bag and leather jacket – because London was cold in the winter – giving the girls the heads up you were leaving.

Several pleads to stay and hugs from your closest friends later, you were heading out of the packed club, heading to the taxi rank just metres away from the club entrance. Tom picked his phone up after another thirty minutes of working some more, his brain coming to a halt with words, only being able to think of you and that damn picture. He knew if he replied and gave you the response you wanted, you’d cancel your night out and turn up at his place, which he didn’t want you to do. He wanted you to go and have a good time, you needed it after how much you’d been working and grafting, so he’d finally persuaded you to go with them, telling you he’d be here plenty of other nights for you casual date night. He told himself he awake this late on a Saturday night, working, because he wanted to get the script finished. The reality was, he was awake this late on a Saturday because you still hadn’t replied and he needed to know you were okay. 

The taxi driver smiled at you as you sunk into the back seat of the black cab, “where to, miss?”-

A loud knock on Tom’s door at just gone 1:30am was the happy interruption he wanted for him to be able to close his finally close his laptop. He trudged to the door, wiping his eyes in an attempt to wipe away the heavy, sleepy feeling. He pulled off the chain, twisting the lock before tugging the door open, only hoping it was you the other side. And there you stood, your arms wrapped around your body to protect yourself from the cold and tom could understand why, the cold air hitting his bare top half, making him tense up. “Y/N?” He asked, blinking his eyes as if he was imagining.

“You’re an arse,” you spat, storming past him into the familiar warmth of his home. Despite your clear annoyance, he smiled at your presence, closing the door swiftly behind you to stop anymore heat from escaping.

“Excuse me?” He watched as you headed straight for the staircase, you high heels clicking over the hardwood floor before you kicked them off, tossing them to the side. Your hips swayed a little more than normal as you started your journey up his stairs, not caring that your dress rode up a little more than it had all evening. “And where are you going?”

“I need to pee,” you simply shouted, not bothering the turn around and look at him before disappearing out of his view.

He supposed he was meant to follow you, not very often dealing with the stubborn side of you thus far into your (not official) relationship. So he did just that. Locking up downstairs and switching all the lights off because he assumed you’d soon be crashed out on his bed, if the smell of alcohol as you drifted past him was anything to go by. The sound of the toilet flushing filled the empty silence before you reappeared, head leaning around his bedroom door to see where he was. On the bed, tom let his legs dangle of the foot of the bed, laying backwards with his arms flung across his face. You cleared you throat, and he removed his arms from over his eyes, sitting up and leaning on his forearms. The sweatpants that hung low on his hips, displaying the band of his boxers, were a total distraction from you being mad at him and he knew it.

“I’m an arse?” He asked, repeating your previous phrase with a hint of confusion in his tone.

You leaned against the door frame, still yet to enter his room as your arms crossed in front of you, body language telling him that you meant what you said, “Yeah.”

“And why is that?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow as you put all your body weight onto one side, your other leg bending at the knee. His eyes couldn’t help but wander over your body and admire the way the dress clung to your frame so perfectly and normally, he’d be ripping it off you, but he wasn’t sure you wanted that from him right now.

“You ignored my picture.” Oh so this is what it’s about he thought to himself, a smirk subconsciously appearing on his lips. He got up from where he was sprawled on the bed and walked over to you, his hand snaking around your waist, all the time keeping the cocky smile on his lips. “Don’t smile, you jerk. I felt stupid! I felt… like you didn’t want the picture. Like I was just some other stupid girl that had fallen head over heels for you and was trying to woo you. It was humiliating…” you hiccupped, your hand coming up to cover your mouth, “… and now I’m really drunk because some guy bought everyone at the table drinks and I wasn’t gonna but I though hey, if Tom doesn’t want the attention then someone else sure as hell…” His lips crashed on to yours, stopping you before you let anything else leave you mouth. He hated to hear that he made you feel stupid. He hated even more that you felt like you needed to get the attention from another guy, but he couldn’t say too much because, technically, you weren’t officially his.

He pulled his lips away, licking off the taste of jägerbombs and vodka, letting his forehead rest against yours. “You know, I had to stop myself from looking at that picture and being a horny teenager all night. If I replied what I really want to reply, you wouldn’t have gone out and had a good time.”

“I need to sit down.” You demanded, and you didn’t know if it was the alcohol that was making you dizzy or if it was just the way he just won you over every single time. He laughed softly, pulling your arm and sitting you on the bed.

“I’ll be right back,” he told you before disappearing out of the room, returning minutes later with two bottles of water and some medicine in his hand, “take these.” He handed you two small pills, opening the bottle for you as you popped them into your mouth. He helped you in drinking some water, his spare hand resting under your chin and tilting it back as you let the ice-cold liquid wash down the medication.

For the first time of the evening, your lips curled up into a smile as a way of saying thank you as he put the bottles of water on the bedside table, your stubborn personality restricting you from saying it out loud. “He asked for my number...” you don’t know why you were saying it, because at the time you turned your back to the creepy stranger and pulled a sicky face, and you most definitely were not interested. The only thing you was interested in was getting some form of reaction from Tom. But it was as if you’d forgotten the words he’d spoken to you before you felt like you was about to throw up everywhere.

“Pardon?” You words stopped him dead in his tracks as he was about to walk past you, stopping striaght in front of you instead. He didn’t say it aggressively, he didn’t say it like he was annoyed, but you knew he was saying it just to make you repeat yourself for the sake of it.

“He... I’m...” suddenly you felt nervous and gulped as Tom hovered over you, looking down as you sat on the bed, staring into his torso because you were too scared to make eye contact. His body was insane, even more so when he’s stood directly in front of you and your eyes can’t even manage to look away. Each pair of abdominal muscles felt warm against your cold finger tips, the feeling of him tense underneath you sending a flush of heat to your core. His hand wrapped around your wrist, putting a pause on any gentle touches you were giving him. Your eyes finally pulled away from his chiseled feautures, slowly drifting up until they connected with his. “He asked for my number.”

“And what did you say, darling?” His voice was soft, again, not like he was annoyed. You kind of wanted him to be annoyed though, you wanted him to want you as much as you wanted him.

“I… I said I was seeing somebody else.” You couldn’t help but rebel against his grasp, wriggling your hand out of his firm grip and returning it to his lower stomach. Fingers traced the waistband of his sweats, and you thought the outline of his dick was more prominent that is was before. You wanted to show him that you wanted to be his because rejecting one other guy was just not enough.

“Love…” he started, grabbing your wrist again, “not whilst you’re this drunk.” You rolled your eyes and threw yourself back to the bed, landing with a thud against the feathery duvet. “I’m gonna get you some clothes.”

In all honesty, he couldn’t look at you for a minute longer because he wanted to rip the stupid, perfect dress off and have you underneath – or on top, whatever, he wasn’t fussy – him all night long. He knew he was bad with words; he knew he never let on his true feelings and that’s probably why he’s had so many failed attempts in the past. But you were different, he was closer to telling you how he felt more than he ever had been with anyone else. His shadow disappeared from over you, and you sat back up, watching the way his back tensed as he walked over to his wardrobe. Sifting through several drawers, he picked up a couple of options, assessing a few items to see if they were too big for you. He’d liked the fact you told the other guy you were seeing somebody. In fact, he loved it.

You sighed, wishing he’d put on a stupid top if he didn’t want you to pounce on him anytime soon. The black dress that covered your body, was being tugged over your head messily by your arms, almost getting yourself stuck in the mesh material. He still had his back to you as you threw it to the floor, smoothing your fingers over your body whilst assessing the presentation of that red lace underwear.

“You know, I really did have to stop myself, with that picture. You looked fucking incredible, Y/N.” He said the words whilst he had the courage to say them, usually defeated by his inside voice when it came to discussing how he felt. “I think I picked my phone up about…” He turned around, sweats and a t-shirt in his hands and his jaw clenched. His eyes widened at the sight before him; you lay on his bed, on your stomach, with your legs crossed in the air and head resting in the palm of your hands. You can imagine cringing at yourself in the morning, because being sexy didn’t come naturally to you.

“Babe, please don’t make this harder than it already is” he laughed, placing the comfy outfit on the corner of the bed.

“Make what harder?” You looked up innocently, through your fluttery lashes, putting on the most delicate voice you could muster. He admired your body, tanned and smooth. The freckles on your back he’d once spent all afternoon counting – around 57, if you’re wondering – were only partially covered by the strap of your bra, which stood out immensely against your skin. The matching bright red panties adorned your hips perfectly, sculpting around your curvy hips and peachy derriere.

“Come here, let’s get you dressed,” he held out his hand, which although you didn’t want to, you took, shuffling yourself up to sit on your knees at the end of the bed.

“But I don’t wannaaaaaaa” you whined, quivering your lower lip.

“But you gottaaaaaa” he mimicked you, sticking his tongue out. That damn tongue. Could be put to better use somewhere else, you thought, giggling to yourself like a little lovestruck teenager as he just shot you a look at you amusing yourself.

If god was real, he was stood in front of you, attempting to get you to bed.

When you reached over to the short pile of clothes he’d placed on the end of the bed for you and pushed them off the edge, so they landed in a pile on the floor, he rolled his eyes. “Oops.” You shrugged. Your fingers found the waistband of his sweats again and he was getting tired of fighting you off. It not that he didn’t want you, because he’d be crazy not to, but he just didn’t want to take advantage of your current tipsy state, he’d been brought up better than that. You pulled at his joggers, making him tumble forwards towards you, already cringing at your desperate and needy voice. “Why don’t you want me… Tommy?”

The nickname was all it took to leap on top of you, pinning you down. His hand held around your neck, holding your head still as you flopped back against the bed sheets yet again. If you’d have known, you’d have said it sooner. You couldn’t help but smirk, your constant nagging finally getting you somewhere. His other hand kept him from crushing your body, holding up his weight above you. His eyes were lustful, like he’d switched personalities in a matter of seconds.

“You don’t think I want you?” He asked, voice quiet but rough. His breath felt hot against your skin, and you wriggled underneath him for a brief moment, until he moved his hand from your neck and snaked it down your body, making sure to take his time until he got to your wetting centre. He cupped whatever of you he could, his warm hands meeting your warm core creating the most uncontrollable heat between you.

“No. I don’t.” you spoke, with a hint of bratiness portraying in your words even though you felt like melted butter beneath him. A quiet tut left his mouth and you think it was followed by a dark chuckle, but you couldn’t be sure because you’d zoned into a world of desperation. Your hips bucked up against his hand, only briefly getting more pressure from him.

“Fuck this,” he spat, crashing down onto your lips, his thumb tracing the outline of your swollen folds through the material of your damp panties. He didn’t want to give in, he thought he could be better than that, but you made it too damn impossible for him to going about a normal nightly routine without being so irresistible.

A whimper fell from your plump lips as he pulled away, instantly attaching to the skin on your neck where a faint red mark had formed from where he had grabbed you. He soothed the area with his lips, tongue lapping across the sensitive area. The strain against his sweatpants was getting intense, digging into the inner of your thighs the further down your body his lips travelled. You muttered a string of words, squirming beneath him.

His hand came from your aching middle, fiercely reaching up and cupping your breast like he was holding onto it for dear life. Beneath the lace covering, your nipple hardened as he caressed you through the fabric, teasing it in between his nimble fingers. He got off on seeing you pleased, he knew that, you knew that, hell, even Sandra next door fucking knew that. So when his lips didn’t stop at your stomach and continued further south, you knew you could count your blessings and say goodbye to your bratty attitude. With one hand, he tugged your underwear to the side, tracing your damp folds with his fingers. “Tom…” You breathed, desperate for his touch. He smirked, not that you could see, as his head bowed further into the valley of your legs.

Replacing where his fingers had been, his tongue followed suit of his digits, tracing your dripping folds and circling your throbbing clit. That was the first squeal of pleasure you let out, mouth dropping wide and hands coming up to his freshly shaved hair. You were annoyed he had to shave it off, wanting nothing more to run your fingers through his floppy brown hair and tug away at it. Grabbing the next best thing, your fingers bunched up as much of the duvet as they could grab as he continued to tease your entrance, the roughness of his buzzcut brushing against your inner thighs. Reapplying pressure from his fingers caused your second squeal, your chest showing your heavy breathing and back arching into him. He squeezed your breast intensely in an attempt to communicate with you whilst his mouth was busy elsewhere. If this is where being drunk got you, you thought you’d start drinking every day, because never before has he loved and performed with such hungry passion like this.

The sound of his lips working against your cunt was the only thing filling the room, other than the sounds of your whimpers and whines. The vibrations shuddered through your body as he hummed into you, his hand trying to reach further up and find a place back on your neck. He noted your heavier breathing and the way your legs wrapped around his shoulders, getting tighter by the second. He knew you well enough to know that he could make you cum, just from using his mouth, but he didn’t want that. He wanted to push you, like you had pushed him.

When he was unsuccessful in reaching to your collar, he pulled away from your ridiculously wet core, sucking on your clit and pulling away with a pop, regaining his breath and wiping his mouth on the sheets beneath him. “You really do want me, huh?” He smirked, crawling up until he was face to face with you, admiring your flushed and rosy cheeks. Your teeth captured your bottom lip, nodding silently to his question, feeling unsatisfied with the lack of touch. He sat up on his knees, in between your legs, and tugged at the waistband of his sweats and boxers, pulling them down his legs, for what felt like the longest time, until his member popped free and you’re suddenly aware of how wet you are for him, feeling your panties stick to you.

“P-please, Tom” you breathe, hands releasing the ball of material in your hands and reaching up for him. He snaps your hands away, still annoyed by your persistent plan to get him to this point and he pushes them above your head, your arms stretched out as much as can be.

“Get up.” He demanded, moving back away from you to give you enough room to slide out. You remained stuck to the bed, however, confused by his sudden instructions. Was he kicking you out? Had you literally been that desperate he didn’t wanna do it?

“Huh?” You questioned as he shuffled back on his knees until his legs could slide off the foot of the bed, landing on the floor with his sweat’s puddled around his ankles.

“Get up.” He repeated, same tone but slightly higher volume. You sat up, wiggling your bum until your legs also fell over the edge of the bed. Your legs were wide, his body inbetween them as he traced his hand up your skin, starting at the valley of your breasts and finishing at your neck. His large hand cupped your jaw, and it the most delicately forceful way possible, he put pressure onto you, forcing your body to stand upright as you followed the direction of his touch. As soon as you were stood, legs threatening to buckle beneath you any minute, he once again soothed over the red mark around your jaw, relaxing his tongue against your skin.

Your arms bent around to your back, fingers clasping at the buckle of your bra, until he he caught you, pulling his head sharply away from your neck and capturing your wrists in his hands. “No,” he said, voice gentle this time, as if you were about to walk out the door and never come back.

“No?” You asked, relaxing your shoulder and letting your arms drop to your side.

“No.” He repeated, more definite with his tone of voice this time. “You wanted me to see this little ensemble...” His hands pointed over your body before they found your hips, twisting your body round 180° so you were facing the bed, your back facing his front. You got his gist, mentally cursing yourself as you was reminded of the picture. You were thankful for the alcohol, though. You wern’t sure you’d be so confident in it without the help of your little friend, prosecco.

You bent forewords, walking your hands across the bed until you were happy you were bent over far enough, your ass higher in the air than the rest of your body. Blonde curls slinked over your shoulder as you turned your head, and what you saw was nothing but a beautiful sight. 

Toms arm tensed as his hand wrapped around his hardened length, a groan of pleasure leaving his lips from the anticipated touch. He pumped himself a few times as he admired the way the lace decorated the curves of your ass; the Brazilian fitting showed off the creases of your hips and the soft natural stretch marks which he could spend hours kissing. His bottom lip was sucked in by his teeth and you reciprocated the action, staring up lustfully at him.

You wanted to beg. You wanted to push your ass back so you could feel his cock against you. But before you had time to decide if that was a wise idea, he took two small steps foreword, lining himself up with the centre of your body. You sucked in air, stomach knotting with butterflies as you waited for him where you most needed him. At tap from his hand on your ass jolted your body forwards, falling onto your forearms and chest flush against the bed.

You didn’t dare look back, not knowing how much more of him you could look at before you jumped ship and ended up getting yourself off. The feel of him pushing your pants to the side made you jump, a gasp escaping you as he ran his index finger up your folds, making sure you were wet enough. Satisfied with how he’d made you dripping with juices, he nudged the tip of his cock against you. Simultaneously, you both let out a moan, both needing it as much as each other. When he pushed into you, at the slowest pace possible to let you adjust around him, he gripped his right hand around your hip to hold you in place.

He began slow, grunting behind you each time you pushed back onto him. A string of unforgivable words left your mouth as you kept a straight posture, noting how the headboard smashed against the back wall as his thrusts grew deeper, the sound synchronised with the sound of his hips smashing against your ass. He released your hip, reaching forward and grabbing a fistful of your bouncy hair. Tugging your hair towards his body, you squealed as your head followed, back arching in the most flexible manner. Whilst keeping hold of your hair, he reached further round, grabbing the front of your neck to keep you from falling foreward to the bed.

The feeling of him clutching onto your neck sent your mind into overdrive although you struggled to spit out an approving moan, your throat being restricted by the pressure of his hand. Your legs began to quiver, bucking beneath you. Tom flipped you over in one swift movement, hand remaining on your neck the entire time as he thrusted back into you, hating the feeling of being out of you; even 2 seconds was too long. He held you there, by your throat, reminding himself that you were here, with him, and not that stupid guy at the club. He wanted you to know he was holding onto you because he never wanted you think about another guy again. He wanted you to know that he felt utterly awful for not making you feel as good as you should about that picture. He wanted you to know, that he wanted you. 

He felt himself getting close, more so now he was face to face with you, adoring how your mouth fell open, lustful eyes meeting his. When you bit your lip and giggled, he couldn’t understand how he was on top of, choking you and fucking you until you forgot about the sleazy guy at the bar, yet you could be the cutest human on the planet. He relaxed his hand, swiping his thumb over your lip in what you found to be more of a delicate moment compared to the ones he’d been showing you all night. His head bobbed down, lips hovering over yours as he spoke quietly. “I want you.” He breathed, tensing and twitching as you wrapped your legs around him, “so fucking much.”

His words were genuine, but you couldn’t understand. He had you. Underneath him. In his bedroom. At 2am on a Sunday morning. “You’ve got me.” You breathed, fingers playing with the hair -or lack of - at the nape of his neck as he rested his forehead on yours. He felt sticky, but you were sure that you did too. 

“All the time?” He asked with a quiver in his voice, but you put it down the the fact you were both on the edge of a climax. You just nodded, biting your lip to stifle a squeal at both your orgasm and excitement of his words. His hips didn’t stop or slow down like you expected them and you knew you were on the brink of finishing, fingers clutching and digging into his back at an attempt to hold on longer. 

“Tom... I- I’m-” You struggled to talk, cutting your sentence short and interrupting yourself with a scream, your eyes rolling back and squeezing shut. He breathed into the crook of your neck, a small mmhmm humming through hip lips in agreement. When his rhythm slowed as hips jolted fewer times, but with more deep and powerful thrusts, he nudged your spot, leaving you crumbling beneath him whilst a string of ohmygod’s and fuck-tom’s left you, your voice shaking in tune with your legs. 

Your hips jolted upwards as your came around from your climax, pushing into him as he experienced his own. His arm snaked round your back, pulling you into him as if you lifting up to meet his thrusts wasn’t enough, before he was moaning in your ear, sending shivers through your body like nothing you’ve ever known.

Neither of you knew how long you’d been there; him on top and still inside you and you catching your breath beneath him. But you both did know, is that you wanted to be there for forever more. It was maybe minutes until he rolled out of you, flopping back onto the bed with a satisfied groan. He still had an arm underneath you, and he tugged it, rolling you onto your side and further into his body. You aching centre felt sore, but very well loved and you couldn’t help but smile. “So... about that guy at the bar?”

“What about him?” Your eyebrows furrowed, not expecting that to be the first thing to come up after having mind blowing sex. 

“I’m gonna fuck him up for speaking to my girl.”

------

taglist: @imaginashawnns​ @fallinallincurls​

[theladyofdeath]

Alone in the Ashes {20}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click >  Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 3.0k

A/N: More fluff? “But, Tara, that’s so out of character for you.” “But, Tara, what ever happened with Tamlin?” “TARA WHY IS EVERYTHING GOING SO WELL” solid questions......

You are the first dream, the only dream I ever was unable to stop myself from dreaming. You are the first dream of my soul, and from that dream I hope will come all other dreams, a lifetime’s worth. - Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince

“Show me!” Feyre called, yelling behind the velvet curtain. Mor was trying on bridesmaid dress after bridesmaid dress, giving Feyre her own personal runway show.

Which she deserved. She was the bride-to-be, after all.

“Alright, okay,” Mor muttered from inside of the dressing room. “This one has a low back and a high neckline. And, I must say, my ass looks fantastic.”

Feyre laughed but that laughter faded once Mor came out, because she was right - she looked stunning. It hugged her body without being too risque and the deep, lavender color suited her perfectly.

“I love that,” Feyre said, eyes wide. “It’s perfect. Even the color. That’s our color. That’s your dress. You’re getting that.”

“Am I?” Mor asked.

“Yes, and if you don’t, I’m kicking you out of the bridal party.”

Mor snorted. “Fine. I accept. Now, I’m making you try on dresses.”

“My sisters should be here,” Feyre said, just as she had every other time Mor had suggested otherwise.

“You don’t have to get one today,” Mor said. “Please? Just try on a few then we can go get lunch.”

“Fine,” Feyre groaned, hopping up from the couch she was sitting on. 

The owner of the boutique came over and helped Feyre into a room before Mor, now changed into her shorts and tank top, went crazy, bringing her a handful of dresses.

“Take your time,” Mor called, closing the curtain behind her. “I’ll be sitting right out here, let me know if you need help.”

Feyre sighed, taking in the line up of dresses before her. At first, she slipped on a ballgown, but the moment she stepped out of the dressing room and looked into the mirror, she wanted to yank it off her body and burn it. Too puffy, too frilly. She felt like she was going to prom - been there, done that. She went through two more that even Mor had cringed at before setting her eyes on a slim fit, beaded gown with an open back and a low, sweetheart neckline. It had thin straps and a long, beautiful lace train. 

Feyre slipped it on.

She stepped out of her dressing room and looked into the mirror.

Mor gasped, eyes lined with tears.

“Feyre,” she breathed.

“I know,” Feyre said, shaking her head. “Damn you, Mor! I was supposed to wait for my sisters!”

They both broke into a fit of laughter as Feyre admired the dress in the mirror. It was perfect. It was flawless. There was nothing about it that Feyre didn’t like.

Rhysand wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of her.

She was barely able to keep her hands off of herself.

It was just over her budget; but, she didn’t really care. She wouldn’t be telling Rhysand, who she scolded just the night before about ordering too many flowers - but, she didn’t really care. She would only ever have one wedding dress.

“How long will it take for this dress to come in if I ordered it today?” Feyre asked. 

The owner went to a little computer where she typed away for a minute before saying, “Six months.”

All the breath left Feyre’s body.

But Mor wasn’t taking that shit.

“There isn’t any way it can get in sooner?” Mor asked. “Can she buy the one she has on and have it fitted? She’s getting married in October and that dress needs to be on her body when the day comes.”

The owner looked back and forth between Mor and Feyre. 

Her lips thinned. “I will see what I can do.”

She went back to work on her computer as Mor snapped an endless string of pictures on her phone of Feyre in her dress, which she promised to send to Elain.

Five minutes later, Elain had sent a reply: G E T  I T  N O W

Amren’s replying text was similar: If she doesn’t get that dress I will break in after hours and steal it for her.

If Elain approved, it was a must.

If Amren was talking about breaking the law, it wasn’t unusual, but it was still a must. 

The owner was still trying to figure out a way to get it in sooner, now speaking to someone on the phone in hushed tones. 

Feyre looked in the mirror, again. It was beautiful. Stunning. She could imagine it, paired with a simple pair of heels and a long, simple veil. She could picture Rhysand’s face as she walked toward him in the dress. He would watch her with wide, teary eyes, and a small smile, full of utter adoration. 

It was the dress.

Half an hour had passed before the owner rejoined them. The elderly woman sighed, as if all of her energy had been sucked away. “I can get it here in two months-”

Feyre heard nothing else because Mor had jumped up, off the couch, and was running to Feyre with her arms wide open. Laughing, Feyre let Mor embrace her, all while picturing her wedding day. 

What a perfect day it would be.

~~~~~

Cassian had gone for a jog along the Sidra, listening to his hype playlist through his earbuds. It was a perfect Sunday afternoon. The sun was bright, high in the sky, not a cloud to be seen. The flowing waters of the Sidra were sparkling beside him. 

Even Bryaxis had a little pep in his step, when usually he was trailing behind Cassian and whining after a mile.

They stopped near a little park where Cassian plopped down in the grass, Bryaxis beside him. After taking a drink from his water bottle, he squirted some into Bryaxis’ mouth, too, when his phone went off.

Nesta’s name popped up on his screen.

All of these movies you’re making me watch from the 80s are weird as fuck.

Cassian smiled at his screen before typing back, Which one are you watching now?

It was no secret that Cassian loved movies, so when Nesta asked for recommendations, he had given her a longass list and a giant stack from his personal collection. She had been living with Elain for about two weeks now, and was loving her sister’s company. Cassian hadn’t seen her much, though. He helped her move in, as he promised he would, but he was aware she needed space for now, and he was okay giving her that.

Didn’t keep them from having little text conversations nearly every day, though. 

The Lost Boys, she sent back, with a little vampire emoji.

What?? Cassian texted. It’s a classic!

Oh, please, she replied. It’s obvious why you’re such a fan.

Bryaxis had climbed onto his owner’s lap and Cassian was scratching his head, between his ears, when he sent, And why is that?

It took her a minute to reply in which Cassian used to stretch out his long, sweaty legs. 

Then the reply came: Bc you’re basically Michael

Cassian cocked his head to the side, even though she wasn’t around to see it. Untrue.

He could imagine her rolling her eyes. Especially when he got her text back. Long hair, motorcycle, thinks he’s hot as shit? Yeah, you’re Michael.

Cassian looked down at Bryaxis. “Nesta’s being mean, Ax.”

Bryaxis’s tail went wild at the mention of her name.

Cassian’s only reply was, I am hot as shit.

Nesta replied with the eye-rolling emoji.

Then, she sent, I’m almost done with the stack you gave me, and as weird as they may be, I wouldn’t mind if you brought me some more?

Before Cassian could reply, Nesta followed the text with, Maybe tomorrow? If you’re not busy after work.

Cassian looked back down to Bryaxis as he grinned. He didn’t know why he was grinning, felt ridiculous at grinning to himself and his dog in the middle of a crowded park, but he couldn’t stop that stupid little grin.

Sure. I’ll be over around 6?

Six gave him enough time to run home, shower, and grab another stack of DVDs she would surely be calling weird as fuck in no time. 

Cassian finished stretching, did thirty sit-ups, and was back on his feet, Bryaxis’s leash in hand when Nesta replied: Perfect.

~~~~~

Elain looked at her phone, where she had set a timer.

It had only been fifteen seconds.

The bathroom was small, but she paced back and forth relentlessly. She had chugged half a gallon of water, Nesta watching her curiously as she did so, before excusing herself to go to the bathroom.

They had been watching some vampire movie from the 80s. Not exactly Elain’s thing. She was glad for any excuse that politely removed her from the room.

Even if said excuse was anxiety ridden. 

Another glance at her phone.

Thirty seconds.

Her pacing continued, her fingers drumming wildly against her thighs.

It wouldn’t be the worst thing, right? I mean...Azriel would be great, of course, but it certainly wasn’t ideal. They had only been dating a few months, only began sleeping with each other the month before.

If it was true, it must have happened that first night, or one of the nights soon after.

It was too soon.

Elain’s anxiety shot through the roof.

She looked at her phone.

Forty-five seconds.

Two minutes felt like a lifetime when everything was on the line.

She was only a week late, but even when she was barely eating, her period had always remained normal - perfectly spaced out, returning like clockwork the third week of every month.

Her eyes met her phone.

One minute down.

One minute to go.

“It’s okay,” she breathed, shaking out her hands, as if that would somehow make the situation better. “It’s alright. Breathe.”

By the Cauldron, what if it was positive?

Would it really be okay?

Azriel would freak out, without a doubt.

He already had Mila. She couldn’t add more onto his plate.

She looked at her phone. 

One minute, twenty seconds.

But he was so good with Mila. He would be an amazing father. So gentle and kind, so loving and passionate. 

But would he want to have kids with Elain?

She imagined he hadn’t even thought about such a thing yet. Elain hadn’t even thought about it, not until she went eight days over her start day without her period.

For the Mother’s sake, they hadn’t even used the word love with one another yet. 

Phone.

One minute, forty-seconds.

Elain couldn’t breathe. She slumped down to the floor, on top of the gray, fluffy rug, and closed her eyes.

In, out.

In, out.

Don’t panic.

Panic doesn’t help.

But she couldn’t help it. Her eyes began to water, the tears trickling down her pale cheeks.

She suddenly had a feeling that everything was about to change. She was a woman. She knew her body. Either it had gone into shock with all the lifestyle changes she had made in the recent weeks, or this was all real. 

Her timer went off, and her eyes shot open. 

She took her phone off the counter and silenced the timer.

Then, with a shaky hand, she pulled the test off the counter. 

Pregnant.

She read it twice, ten times, twenty times, that single word the only word she could think of.

She was pregnant.

Pregnant.

With child.

With Azriel’s child.

A fist pounded on the door, scaring Elain shitless. She swore, quietly, scrambling up from the floor. 

“Hey, it’s Az. Nesta said you came upstairs. I assume you’re in there, since….well, you’re not anywhere else up here. Hope you don’t mind me coming by early. I dropped Mila off with Mor and Feyre to look for a flower girl dress. I was told I’m not allowed to see it before the wedding day, so...”

Elain took a deep breath, hoping her voice remained steady when she said, “Hey! Oh, I’m just...fixing my contacts.”

A pause. “Okay. I’ll go downstairs and wait with Nesta. I’ll catch the end of The Lost Boys.”

“Great,” Elain said, and her voice broke.

Azriel didn’t move from the other side of the door. She could see the shadows from his feet. “You okay? You sound upset.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” she promised him, although she obviously wasn’t. “Just a little emotional today.”

“Alright,” Azriel said, uncertainly. “Can I open the door?”

“I’m naked,” she blurted.

“While putting in contacts?” Azriel said, huffing a laugh. “Not that it’s anything I haven’t seen before.”

The doorknob turned, and Elain cursed herself for not locking the door.

She quickly hid the test stick behind her back as he came in.

He took one look at her red cheeks, her blurry eyes, and frowned. “Hey…”

She was frozen in place as he stepped toward her, as he took her face into his hands and wiped away her tears. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, and Azriel pulled her into his arms.

His body stilled.

He was taller than her by quite a bit, no doubt looking down as she planted her face into his chest.

Down at Elain’s hands, behind her back, gripping the test so hard that her knuckles were white.

Azriel reached around her and took it from her hands. He stepped back, looking down at it.

Pregnant.

He took a step back, studied it as if he wasn’t seeing it correctly. 

His face was unreadable. 

Elain’s hands flew over her mouth as she broke into a sob. 

Azriel’s gaze jerked up, his eyes widened as she cried. “Hey, hey, no..”

He set the test down on the counter and pulled Elain into his arms. He held her tightly against him as she wept. 

“I’m sorry,” she choked out, voice muffled against his shirt. 

“About what?” he whispered. “You don’t have to apologize, El. Okay? Don’t apologize.”

She nodded, and when she looked up at him, his hazel eyes shone. “Please tell me what you’re thinking.”

He hesitated, his hands still rubbing her back. “I’m not….I’m in shock, I guess. But, I’m not….mad, Elain, I think you think I’m mad.”

She took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. “I’m in shock, too.”

“Okay,” he breathed. “Well, that’s good.”

Elain laughed, softly. “How is that good?”

“Pretty sure shock is normal in these situations,” he said, quietly.

All the tension left Elain’s shoulders. “I’m scared.”

“About what?” he asked, voice low.

“All of it,” she said. “Carrying a child, birthing a child, and everything that comes after that. And you...Azriel…” Her words trailed off, but Azriel didn’t say anything. He watched her and waited, patiently. “You would be an amazing dad, Az, but I don’t want to trap you.”

His brows furrowed as he brushed her newly fallen tears away. “Is that what you think? That I would stay with you because you’re pregnant? Or, that I would even want to leave you in the first place?”

Elain looked down. She shrugged. She wasn’t sure what she thought, wasn’t sure how to sort her thoughts. 

Azriel lifted her chin back up with his fingers. “Do you want to have this baby?”

It was the same question that Elain had stayed up the night before asking herself, over and over again. If it’s positive, do you want to keep it? Elain laid her palms flat against his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath. Although afraid, she felt completely confident when she answered, “Yes.”

Azriel smiled, tentatively, and nodded. “Then I’m going to be here, okay? You’re not trapping me, Elain. You couldn’t trap me if you tried. I know we’ve been together for a few months, and we’re still in that honeymoon stage, and I won’t pretend that I know what the future holds....But I do know that I love you.” He kissed her forehead. “And I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to do this, and it’s going to be okay, okay?” 

Elain laid her palm against his cheek, brushing away the tear he had that fell. “You love me?”

She knew Azriel, knew he didn’t say things unless they were true. And, after talking with Mor, she knew Azriel had never said that word to another woman. 

Azriel’s eyes softened. “I do. But, you don’t have to-”

“I love you, too,” she breathed, interrupting his modesty. 

And it was true.

Yes, she had loved Graysen, but it was a false love. She loved the idea of Graysen, loved the life they had built, but it wasn’t true, Graysen had proven that in the end.

But with Azriel…

Azriel was truth, kindness, gentleness, passion, genuity, love. He was everything she needed for herself, all wrapped up into one, perfectly imperfect man. 

And she loved that about him.

She loved him.

He smiled down at her, and it was one of those smiles that she had only seen a handful of times from him. His teeth showed, his eyes went bright, his plump lips curved upward. That smile...it was an image that Elain kept in her memory for her darkest of days. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

[toenialls]

hi ! here’s a fic rec i made bc what better time to read fics than a quarantine. i’ve ordered them below from longest to shortest. :) 

these are all the fics i’ve read/re-read this quarantine

hiding place by alivingfire  @alivingfire (365k)

louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. enter harry styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. with one fateful meeting in a x factor bathroom, louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual.

from the x factor house to madison square garden, from the fountain studios stage to stadiums across the world, louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace louis as the center of his universe. meanwhile, harry begins to think that maybe fate doesn’t actually know what it’s doing after all, because his other half has clearly been right in front of him the whole time. all he has to do now is convince louis to give them a chance.

or, the canon compliant harry and louis love story from the very beginning, where the only difference is that the love between them is literally written on their skin, and there’s only so much they can hide.

relief next to me  by dolce_piccante @haydolce (333k)

au- what happens when a baker and a graphic designer meet via a very specific craigslist post? fate, friendship, food, and maybe more. 

young & beautiful by velvetoscar @mizzwilde (227k)

louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name zayn malik means something, niall horan doesn’t stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and harry styles, only son o a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes 

now in a minute by thealmightyavocado @avocadolouie​ (150k)

13 feels like yesterday for many people, but for louis it actually was.more than anything in the world, louis tomlinson dreams of growing up. simply skipping over all the awkward embarrassing years of teenage existence and getting on with life, real life.

so when thirteen-year-old louis wakes up in the body of his thirty-year-old self, he expected his adult life to be picture perfect. and maybe it is. he has it all…or so it seems. 

except his favorite person and lifelong best mate, harry styles, is totally missing from the equation and louis doesn’t understand why. he has a lot of catching up to do and as adult life turns out to be more than what he bargained for, louis can’t help wondering why a life that seemed so perfect, feel so empty.

or, the 13 going on 30 au that should have been done years ago.

walk that mile by purpledaisy (149k)

harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “i wanted to get the most out of this trip so i planned it carefully.” his voice is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “so far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything i’ve tried to do.”

"sticky fingers?“ louis repeats. offended. “are you saying it’s my fault you got stung by a bee? had you been alone you would have gotten halfway to the dotty diner and ran the car off the road because of an allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.”

"polk-a-dot drive in,“ harry spits before getting out of the car. he slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and louis rolls his eyes.

or, a route 66 au where falling in love was never part of the plan.

own the scars by crinkle-eyed-boo @crinkle-eyed-boo​ (144k)

“but i don’t belong here,” louis insists.

"why do you say that?“ james asks.

"these people are all drug addicts and alcoholics,” louis shrugs. something sparks in james’ eyes. “and you’re not?”

louis has never felt like he was good enough: for his stepdad, for his life-long best friends, for the life he’s supposed to want. after an accident that nearly costs him his life, louis’ parents send him to rehab where he’s forced to make his own decisions. on the long and difficult road to recovery, louis must confront the truths he;s been avoiding about his future, his relationships, and his sense of self-worth. because before he can love anyone else, he’s got to learn how to love himself first.

wear it like a crown by zarah5 @zarahdetand​ (141k)

au- as a part of a team of fixers hired to handle a gay scandal in buckingham palace, louis expects prince harry to be a lot of things –  most notable a royally spoilt brat. never mind that the very same prince harry used to star in quite a number of louis’ teenage fantasies.

unbelievers by isthatyoularry @isthatyoularry​ (136k)

it’s louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. however, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifying uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life that much worse. mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

or, the one where louis and harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything

empty skies by green_feelings (134k)

for three years, harry has been running from his past. now, he is moving to london and pledges to fulfill only his dream – making it big in the music industry. not everyone has a place, though, and the competition is tough. as is his past catching up to him.

louis is part of the biggest boy band of the world, and getting there meant a lo to hard work, as well as sacrificing parts of his heart and soul. he’s still happy. maybe not as happy as he could be, but who is he to complain?

featuring perrie as harry’s adorable flatmate, niall as his manager, and liam and zayn as louis’ bandmates.

love is a rebellious bird by 100precentsassy @100percentsassy​ gloria_andrews @gloriaandrews​ (134k)

au. in which the boys still make music. louis is the concertmaster of the london symphony orchestra, harry is the new! and exciting! interim conductor / ex-cello prodigy who “has made mozart cool again” according to esquire magazine (louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and niall is the best. zayn and liam are around too.

don’t hum Bolero

wild love by  purpledaisy (130k)

“good,” julia says, clearly pleased to have them both uncomfortable and unable to look at each other. “now, i only have one more question before you can go. what are you planning to do when this experiment ruins your friendship?“

 "we said we’d stay friends no matter what,” harry says smoothly his chin lifting in defense.

"that was our one thing going into it,“ louis agrees. “stay friends no matter what.”

julia raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow, “that’s all fine and good. but i hope you realize your emotions aren’t going to realize this is an experiment in the end. if one of you falls for the other and finds out those feelings are not reciprocated you’re not going to be able to laugh it off as a social experiment. i’m not saying you shouldn’t do this, i’m just hoping you’ve considered all of the possible outcomes.”

or, two friends try to date each other for forty days. it’s supposed to be fun until emotions make it complicated

got the sunshine on my shoulders by hattalove @hattalove​ (124k)

five years ago, harry styles left his tiny home town to make it big as a recording artist, he didn’t have much regard for what he left behind– a life, a family, a husband, who woke up one morning to find him gone.

now, harry has everything he could possibly want. he’s rich, famous, and adored by everyone he meets, including his boyfriend. but when said boyfriend proposes to him, he’s forced to face the uncomfortable facts of his past– and louis, who’s spent the last five years returning every set of divorce papers harry sent him.

or, au based on the movie sweet home alabama.

california sold by isthatyoularry (123k)

notoriously closeted boyband member harry styles is famous on a global scale, meanwhile louis, as his best friend, is back home in manchester living the typical life of a 24 year old. when harry needs louis with him in LA, a publicity stunt gone wrong changes their friendship forever.

or, a fake-relationship au between two lifelong best friends.

the finish line (is a good place for us to start) by loadedgunn @loaded-gunn (122k)

louis tomlinson, one-time formula i world champion, is looking forward to the 2013 season, he’s got zayn in his garage and liam in his ear, he’s got cowell racing backing him despite former indiscretions, he’s got experience and the best race car out there. not to mention he’s the only racer they have, after oliver dropped out late last year.

it hasn’t occured to him that oliver would have to be replaced by february. that is, until he finds himself at a party celebrating harry styles leaving ferarri for cowell. harry hotshot styles, who broke a record last year and is probably looking to make a big splash. harry styles, who is talented and somewhat intimidating. harry styles, who left ferarri for reasons unknown and seems kind of lonely and harmless in person. lonely, harmless, hot as fuck. whatever.

the first thing louis does is take him under his wing. from there it’s nine months of slow-burning romance, the past catching up to them, turning into the human puppy pile that is ot5 and a lot of feelings until, of course, reaching the finish line.  

tired tired sea by mediawhore @mediawhorefics​ (113k)

as a b&b owner on the most remote of all the british isles, louis tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sol companions. until one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

here in the afterglow by fondleeds @fondleeds​ (88k)

"if you hadn’t noticed, i don’t have many friends,” louis whispers, the blossom of insecurity in his stomach unfurling and clawing his way into his throat.

harry is silent for a long time, and then he speaks; a soft, slow uncurl that makes louis’ stomach shake. “i’ll be your friend.”

or, 1970’s au. in a tiny town in idaho, louis’ life changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

chasing empty spaces by domesticharry @domestic-harry​ (79k)

the year is 1934 and harry styles was to inherit the largest tobacco firm in the south. his parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. the problem was, harry hadn’t realized that he didn’t want nay part of the future until he met a mechanic named, louis tomlinson.

don’t want shelter by kingsofeverything @kingsofeverything​ (76k)

louis and harry have known each other all their lives. friends as children, they danced around each other as teenagers, and have spent the last twenty-five years either screaming at each other or not speaking at all. except for that one time ten years ago...

when hurricane nicole threatens the coast, they end up stuck together in their families' old vacation home that they begrudgingly co-own.

during the storm, and in the months after, they’re both forced to reevaluate their history and what they mean to each other

money moves by mmaree @zqua1d​ (74k)

"i’ll cut straight to the chase,“ liam announces. he leans forward, and zayn is met with steely eyes and steepled fingers. "i’m willing to offer you fifty grand if you’ll enter into a small…partnership with me. this would be in addition to your salary at payne innovations, of course. think of it as a bonus.”

zayn narrow his eyes. “what kind of partnership?”

"a fake engagement.“

"oh,” zayn says, relived it’s nothing illegal. “wait–what?”

“a fake engagement,” his boss repeats slowly, as if he’s convinced zayn’s comprehension skills are significantly lacking. “for six months. maybe less if i can pull it off sooner but don’t worry– you’ll be paid the full sum regardless of how long it takes.”

zayn’s suspicious, and he doesn’t even know why. there’s nothing to be suspicious of because, clearly, liam’s lost the plot. zayn’s having a conversation with a complete nutter. there’s no other reasonable explanation.

he clears his throat, searches liam’s eyes for a sign he’s taking the piss. “how long what takes?”

a smile plays at liam’s lips. “for me to be hired as the cto at titan technologies.”

to the ends of the earth by stylinsoncity @aliensingucci​ (68k)

during a yearlong hiatus, louis visits harry at his cabin in idaho, where long-buried feelings ignite like the fire keeping them warm.

lend me your hand by quickedween (63k)

society has long since decided that the soulmarks everyone is born with are entirely unfashionable. they’re just another way for people of a lower class to scam their way into marrying above their station.

lord louis tomlinson viscount loring, on the other hand, has always believed that he will find his soulmate one day. despite preparing for a match his whole life, he is entirely unprepared for the arrival of gemma styles’ younger brother.

harry styles has been travelling and away from society for over a year. coming back, he intends to spend time with his sister, and slowly reacquaint himself with life in town. he doesn’t need to wait around for a soulmark to determine how his life will play out.

small doses (loving you it’s explosive) by quickedween (40k)

louis tomlinson finds himself at vitality fitness to try and turn his life around after having left his cheating boyfriends of four years. the gym’s owner, liam, quickly becomes a good friend but his right hand man is rude and dismissive from the get-go.

louis and harry continue to clash all while harry is trying to move his way up the ranks in manchester’s amateur boxing circuit, but they can’t seem to stay away from each other.

learning to eat by photo41 (28k)

celebrity chef louis tomlinson has a problem, he’s opening his first restaurant in 9 week . and he has yet to hire a pastry chef- apparently people think he’s “standoffish” and “rude” and “quick to temper” . whatever. he ends u saddled with an annoying, happy-go-lucky rookie who also happens to be obnoxiously good looking. his tv presenter and pop star friends only add to the drama, and for fucks sake would everyone please stop quoting julia child?!

these roads we stumble down  by onewasturning @onewasturning​ (18k)

he’s completely drenched, not one milimetre of him covered in rain, and the old sheepskin cover over the seat is probably going to stink afterwards from the damp. but even with what seems to be a constant tremor shaking his body, brown hair plastered to his forehead, and a blue tinge to his skin, he’s still probably the most gorgeous person that harry has ever seen.

or, harry picks up a hitchhiker in oxford, and it’s a long ride to glasgow.

[antpernas]

11/17/20

you bitches better buckle up bc the trip to georgia went from bad to horrible VERY QUICKLY OSIDFLJSLDFK

SO just to note after i posted yesterday he came to the couch and started cuddling me while watching tiktoks and we were chatting and it was cute!! and i woke up feeling really good actually!! i was really confident that we were going to be able to enjoy the trip even without the intention of pursuing anything romantically afterwards! today we had plans to go around and look at atlanta, go thrifting, probably eat out too, etc. so i was really excited! and originally we were going to go to savannah today to go to the beach but then that went out the window alksfjslkdn

so i went to sleep the night before way earlier than dan, he had a presentation at 8 AM and he still hadnt completed the powerpoint for it. personally i thought he shouldve gone to sleep right when he did but he stayed up until 8 AM to present and then knocked out after. the consequence of that is that i woke up at 9 AM and was waiting for him to wake up all the way until 3 in the afternoon ASLKJLSKFDS

so finally he wakes up, i was kinda hoping that he would initiate the effort to actually go out like we had planned, especially since in our conversation on the drive home yesterday i had told him it really sucks to always be the one making the first effort literally all the time (not just with him but in general), and he said he would try to be more proactive to make me feel appreciated (that didnt happen aksfjlkf). so yeah no after thirty minutes of him not saying anything to me after he woke up i go ask him if hes still down to go out, and how i was waiting for him to wake up bc i didnt want to leave him alone in the aptmt to go thrifting cuz i thought that was mean, etc. he gets ready, we head out, he asks to drive my car and i say no bc he keeps breaking like a fucking maniac after id told him specifically not to bc it stresses me out !! we get in and head out

thrifting was pretty cool actually, there was like a LITTLE bit of awkward tension but it wasnt that bad, the thrift stores were super cool and i found some pretty nice stuff while i was there B) he also bought a bunch of stuff he liked so i thought it was a win win! we went and got food after, then we headed back to his place, which is where shit REALLY hit the fan

when we get back to his place he goes straight to his computer again. i go to the couch to eat, and after like a half hour of literally nothing–no chatting, no cuddling, he didnt even eat with me we just ate separately– i started looking into getting an airbnb and meeting other guys to try and salvage the trip. i told myself if he doesnt try to make a move to make me feel welcomed by the time my laundry was done, ill leave

THEN..... he starts getting dressed, and he heads to the door and he says to me “so youre gonna have the place to yourself for a little bit, im going to go out with some friends” and he leaves me alone in his house. this was extra ironic for me bc i remember before i had started the drive up and we were working out the details, i asked how long he would want me to stay, and he told me after wednesday he had a lot of stuff for school so he wouldnt be able to give me his attention or focus so he would feel bad if i stayed any longer; i said that that was totally fine and i thanked him for being considerate. and for that whole sentiment to be thrown out the window (if it hadnt ALREADY been bc he was just ignoring the fact that i was sitting on his couch twiddling my thumbs) when he left me alone in his house- yeah just comedy bitch COMEDYYY

and so i try to look into getting an airbnb and turns out i CANT bc my number is still linked to somebody elses fucking account and airbnb doesnt let you update it without access to the original account. at that fucking point i was pissed and i didnt even care about trying to salvage the trip so i just decide to drive home

i start getting my stuff ready and i messaging my friends about all this stuff, i end up facetiming my friend to tell them about it and their like “this is absolutely infuriating. youre not mad enough for me. burn that house down. steal his shit.” LOLLL it was just a mess!! i get all my stuff ready, i pack up my car and i leave

this one dude on grindr i was chatting to earlier had invited me over, i take him up on his offer and he was really sweet! we chatted about anime, played some video games for a little bit, his cat was adorable and it was a nice little thing. i was only there for an hour or so before i started heading home again

yeah all in all the trip was preeetttyyyyy much a bust, theres a lot of shit that pisses me off when i think about dan now (he was a huge hypocrite (he got mad at me for calling him out when he tried to excuse his behavior by saying it was bc of his trauma, but then made jokes about my r*pist.......), tbh kind of a sociopath, took a lot of pride in telling me about how hes so toxic and gaslights people all the time and i was just confused as to why he thought that would make me think any better of him at all/???, had a really concerning sense of humor that like took joy in suffering “ironically,” etc.) but i dont want to be resentful or spiteful or anything and honestly im not even that mad AT him!! he has a lot of potential in life and hes still super interesting, he just needs to heal a lot and GO TO THERAPY bc jesus fucking christ

but yeah thats my story about yesterday, im gonna write the one for today even though its not that eventful but i hope you enjoyed these little chronicles lakfsjlaksdf

[a-singleboat]

Oblivious

Word Count: 1890

A/N: unedited bc i wasn’t sure how long my google docs would work for

By ten-thirty that morning you were sure that Damien was either coming down with a fever or had started taking some hard drugs the night before. You were hoping it was the former or neither of them at all. That morning, Damien had texted you to ask if you wanted a ride to work that day. You had accepted, thankful for the break from public transport until he had gotten there and had barely spoken a word.

The whole time it seemed like he was in deep thought. It was almost as if he had the words formulated in his mind but was still struggling to spit it out. The second that you had arrived at the office and left the elevator, he was gone. You hadn’t seen him all day and quite frankly, it had become annoying. The office, while bigger than the one at Defy, was still small. For nearly thirty-minutes, you had been looking for him so that you could do your job but he kept eluding you. 

When you had gone around the desks a few times, stopping at Damien’s in the games lab first before circling around to Courtney’s and Shayne’s, you dubbed that he was either no longer in the building or that he had dropped dead due to the kitchen fumes that were ever prevalent in the hallway outside of the office space. 

The only places you hadn’t checked were the conference room spaces because one of them was marked for a big important higher-ups meeting and you didn’t want to accidentally interrupt anything that might’ve been happening.

Finally deciding that enough was enough, you sent him a text that informed him on your decision to have Courtney drive you home tonight and that you would see him as soon as he had finished with whatever childish act he had put up. In the eleven or so years that you had known him for, he has never ignored you for this long. 

In all actuality, you wouldn’t have been mad if it was just a normal day. If it was a day where you sat and sewed all costumes together and planned out makeup looks for upcoming shoots, him ignoring you would have gone more or less unnoticed. However, today was a day that you needed to see specifically him because the next thing that was being filmed required a bit more costume coordination considering he would have body paints and you needed to do patch testing. 

By lunch, you had calmed down and Courtney had asked you to meet her in one of the three empty conference rooms because most of the meetings were more or less over for the day. You took a pit stop by your desk to grab your lunch before making your way slowly to where Courtney asked you to meet her.

On your way, you had to pass several other conference rooms. In one held Ian and Matt Raub, both with their laptops out and their lunches almost pushed to the side and forgotten. You grimaced, as you knew they often forgot about their eating and would end up regretting it towards the end of the day. 

Most of the rooms were empty though and as you made your way towards the end of the hall, you felt most of the tension of the day wash away. You were halfway through and nothing could stop you from having a better second half.

At least that’s what you thought. 

There’s a room towards the end of the hall with a door that doesn’t close just right. On the inside, the door looks closed but looking from the outside it most definitely is not. Inside the room, sat Shayne Topp. 

He had his lunch in front of him and he looked like he was concentrating on what another person was talking about. Barely audible, you’re able to make out the conversation between the two and it went a little like this,

“I just don’t want to ruin what we’ve got after so long.”

“I understand completely, but you’ve gotta make a move.”

“But you read the text she sent me, I don’t think she’s really interested in going anywhere with me.”

You had to take a step back when the next line came through in a half-shout, half-failed whisper type of thing. “Either ask her out or I’ll do it for you!”

You blinked a few times, trying to work through your head what you had just heard. Was Shayne encouraging Damien to ask someone out? He definitely was, considering he used the words, “ask her out,” but who could, ‘her,’ be?

You thought on it for a bit before settling that, ‘her,’ was probably who Damien was going out to see on nights when he said he couldn’t go to yours to watch a movie or when he said that you couldn’t go to his. 

You felt weird. You knew that this wasn’t something meant for anyone else’s ears. Then, you felt protective over Damien. While he could fend for himself, you couldn’t help but feel a little put-off about the idea of Damien dating anyone. 

Was this jealousy?

Someone tapped your shoulder and you jumped, your immediate reaction to go and hit the person who had touched you. When you saw the flash of blonde hair and the smile drop off her face, you stopped in your tracks and apologized. 

“I’m so sorry,” you bit your lip. “It’s a bit of a reaction.”

“It’s fine!” Courtney laughed it off. “I was just coming to make sure you didn’t get lost.”

Had you been standing here for that long?

You shook your head and plastered a smile on your face, “No, didn’t get lost. Just zoned out on the walkover.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, the gears in her brain obviously turning. “Are you okay?” she asks, a concerned look taking over her features. 

You risk a short glance over to the conference room with the door slightly ajar and she seems to take the memo. She leads you away from the conference rooms and you make your way down to the garage.

When you get into her car after the short ride over, she rolls down the windows and moves her seat back so she can comfortably turn to face you. “What’s up?”

You take your time unwrapping your lunch before answering. Finally, after much inner debate, you start to talk. “So, I’ve liked Damien for the longest time. I wanted to confess it to him a while ago but he had gotten himself a girlfriend and it did not seem fair to him if I told him then so I just didn’t. I was walking by the conference rooms to meet you when I saw Shayne and Damien in the conference room and I think Damien’s found himself another girl but he’s also been ignoring me all day.”

You gave Courtney a look that read that you were just plain tired and she seemed to get what you were saying. “I think,” she started, “I think that Damien actually does like you and if that’s not the case then that’s how it’s gotta be sometimes. It’s not right for him to ignore you like this especially when you’ve got actual work to do and maybe he needs some time on his own to sort this out.”

You nodded slowly, taking her words into account. Essentially, yes, if this is what’s happening then maybe it would be healthy for you and him to take time on your own. Your car was being repaired that weekend so you wouldn’t need to rely on public transport or anyone else to get anywhere and the rest of your workweek was simple costume mock-ups and most days you would leave early. 

So, for the next few days, you kept your distance. You only really talked to him when it was for work and didn’t see him much beyond then. You successfully got his patch test done and that shoot went smoothly as you didn’t have to actually be the one to paint it onto him. 

By Friday, you had gotten a successful amount of work done and things were stacking up in your favor that you would be able to take Monday off from work. It was at the end of the day when you decided that what was going on between you and Damien had to end. Luckily, he had parked his car fairly close to yours and you could catch him on his way out.

“Damien,” you called, watching him get into the elevator to leave at the same time as you. As if out of routine, he held the door open for you and you both shared the ride down together. It was a comfortable silence, which was weird due to the fact that you weren’t exactly talking at the moment. 

You took a second to collect your thoughts before turning to face him. “Listen,” you bit your lip and he looked at you. “I know I have no say in this but you should go for it. I heard you and Shayne talking in the conference room the other day and if it’s with this mystery girl that I’ve never heard of then I really can’t just tell you no.”

The silence stretched between the two of you before the elevator dinged and neither of you made a move to leave the space. 

Eventually, you got tired of waiting and made the move to step off, knowing the elevator wouldn’t stay there forever. You left and he followed suit. At least you had gotten your words out, now you could go home with an open mind. Even if that also meant you left with a heavy heart. 

You unlocked your car and opened the door, intending to get in and drive off before he could stop you. Unfortunately, you were too slow and he was next to you the second you opened the car door. 

“Y/n,” he paused, trying to find the right words to say. “There is no mystery girl.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “What? But I heard you and Shayne-”

He cut you off, “There’s no mystery girl because that girl is you.”

You were left speechless. On one hand, you were one foot into your car and one foot out. On the other hand, Damien had just confessed that you were the one they were talking about was you. 

“So what does that mean? I don’t understand,” you managed to stumble through. 

“It means that I want to take you on a date,” Damien fiddled with the strap on his bag, a nervous habit he had picked up from you. “If you want to, I mean.”

A smile slowly spread across your face as you got yourself fully out of your car and hugged him around his middle. “I would love to go on a date with you,” you pulled back a little so that you could look up at him. You looked at him and a small bit, taking in his eyes and all his features. 

“Can I kiss you?” you breathed out, afraid that if you spoke any louder you would break the moment. 

He leaned down to kiss you and the moment felt like you had just come home.

[womanfromblackwater]

Birthday Fic

Little birthday-themed fic focusing on Arthur and John’s brotherly bond. Of course, it’s all John’s birthday bc I found out way too late that yesterday was Roger’s, but enjoy!

Thirteen

From the moment he saw the small figure hunched at the side of the camp, Arthur knew something was wrong. The little urchin Dutch and Hosea had brought back a few months past usually spent his time getting into everything around the camp, seeing how much he could squirrel away in his tent before anyone noticed. If not that he was pestering Arthur. The kid wanted to copy everything he did and had no respect for Arthur’s time or personal space. Sitting on a rock staring off across the prairie was definitely not one of his usual activities. Silently hoping that the kid wasn’t getting sick, Arthur had gone about his day, until he noticed that by mid afternoon John still hadn’t moved. A part of him- most of him if he was being honest- was tempted to leave him there, let him sort out his own problems. But the small part that made him ________ took over, and he found himself walking over to the kid against his better judgement. 

“You okay, boy?”

Startled, John visibly flinched at his voice, before quickly squaring his shoulders and putting on what Arthur thought of as his “tough guy scowl.” It was not especially intimidating coming from the skinny kid. 

“I’m fine.”

“You ain’t. If you was fine you wouldn’t be over here. So, I’m gonna sit right here until you tell me what’s goin’ on.” 

He plopped himself down on the grass, wondering why he was doing this but unable to make himself get up and walk away. John crossed his arms across his chest and turned his head away, but didn’t get up. Arthur guessed five minutes before the kid spilled his guts. John held out for ten before the tears he had been fighting started to run down his cheeks. 

“I’m thirteen today.”

“Well, happy birthday, kid. That ain’t nothing to cry about.”

“That’s thirteen years my ma ain’t here. Pa always said I killed her. She made good money, too. It was my fault Pa lost his best girl. He coulda been rich.”

Arthur took a deep breath, not sure what to say. John never talked about his life before the gang, only said he was on his own since he was eight. Now he guessed he knew why.

“Hey, that ain’t… that ain’t your fault. You didn’t do nothing. It happens, boy. Ain’t nice, but it happens.”

He wrapped an arm around the kid’s shoulders, surprised when John didn’t fight him and just leaned into his side. 

“You got a family now. Ain’t much of one, but we’re here.”

“I guess.” 

The tears had stopped, and Arthur gave the boy’s shoulders a squeeze before getting up, brushing dirt off his jeans.

“Make sure you’re back for dinner. Hosea’ll worry if he knows you were out here all day.”

Having gotten a small nod, Arthur strode back to the main camp and saddled his horse. John could be whiny and aggressive and annoying, but he felt bad for the kid. Least he could do was get him a present. Probably the first one of his life. 

Later that night, Arthur knew he’d done the right thing. It was way too big on John, but something had told him that the boy was meant to have it. His eyes were barely visible under the brim of the white gambler hat, but he had refused to take it off since he had opened the sloppily wrapped package. Arthur smiled to himself. He’d grow into it. 

Twenty-Two

Giving a last wave to the trapper, Arthur rode off with the package secured behind him. He’d watched John shiver through the winter, too stubborn to ask for a heavier jacket and spending all his own money on presents for the girl Uncle had brought into camp. John had proudly declared that she didn’t charge him anymore, that soon enough she’d be only his, but Arthur figured that didn’t mean much when his lips were tinged with blue and he was practically sitting in the campfire to keep warm in a blizzard. The idea of the man he’d come to think of as a brother going through another cold snap like that had given Arthur the idea for his birthday gift. The ox leather had been easy to come by, the coyote had taken several nights of hunting, but it was worth it to see the result. 

He arrived at camp to find the celebration already in full swing, despite it only being mid-afternoon. Arthur had always gotten a special meal and presents, but Dutch doted on John, and his birthday was second only to Christmas as the gang’s biggest party of the year. Hating that much attention himself, Arthur didn’t mind the arrangement. 

John was sitting on the edge of a wagon, laughing with Bill and Uncle and already deep into his fourth drink. Arthur had been right, he had grown into the hat, although the white had become a deep tan after nearly a decade of use. Figuring he may as well give him his present while he was sober enough to appreciate it, he pulled the package off of Boadicea and headed over. 

“Hey, kid, havin’ a good day?” He slung an arm around the smaller man’s shoulders, the closest to a hug John would allow. 

“Sure. Hosea let me sleep till noon, so I’d say it’s a good one. They won’t let me near the chuckwagon, so I guess Pearson got something good, too. How you been?”

“Fine, fine. Got this for ya.” He handed over the neatly folded brown paper. 

“Shit, Arthur, you didn’t need to go this big. Uncle here got me a half-full box of bullets. Pretty sure he pulled it off your wagon.”

Uncle stood up taller.

“Hey, those is gonna save your life one day, boy. You’ll be thankin’ ol’ Uncle then!”

They all laughed as John tore back the paper on Arthur’s gift. His genuine smile warmed Arthur’s heart. John was usually either dead serious or drunkenly cackling. Honest happiness from him was rare. He ran his fingers through the soft fur of the jacket’s lining, admiring for a moment before looking up to Arthur. 

“Thank you, brother. For real, thank you.”

“Aw, was nothin’. Now we don’t all have to listen to you and your chatterin’ teeth next time we head north.” He gave John a playful shove and steered him towards the campfire, where the rest of the gang was staring to gather for a rare night of relaxation. 

Twenty-Six

“Hey, you up yet?”

Arthur could see through the gaping hole in the wall that he was, but figured John would appreciate the knock more than just barging in. 

“Yep. You can come in.”

John was slumped in a chair, half-finished coffee in his hands. Dark circles under his eyes showed the toll the past few weeks had taken. Losing Sean, losing Jack and the fight to get him back, settling in at a new camp- they were all stressed and exhausted. Only Jack, looking up to wave at Arthur from his spot on the floor, happily playing with his toy horse, seemed to be truly okay. 

“Just wanted to wish you many happy returns of the day.”

“What?”

Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, John stared at Arthur, who remained silent until John’s eyes widened in realization. 

“Jesus, I hadn’t even been keeping track. Already?”

“What is it, Pa?” Jack asked, climbing up into John’s lap. Arthur answered for him.

“It’s your pa’s birthday. Gettin’ old, he is.”

“Really? Is there gonna be a cake?” Jack’s eyes lit up. He still wasn’t exactly sure what a birthday was, but he knew that whenever somebody had one there were treats, and for his there had been presents. 

“I don’t think so, Jack. We all got a lot going on right now, we’re not gonna have a party right in the middle of it.”

He was right, Arthur knew that, but a part of him remembered how hard it had been to get John to acknowledge his birthday in the first place, and he didn’t want to let that go. An idea forming, he held out his arms to Jack. 

“Come on, Jack. Let’s give your pa some space. John, I’m borrowin’ your kid.” 

John nodded, smiling at the giggle that Jack gave as Arthur picked him up and spun him around. Even though they’d all had hard times lately, Arthur seemed to be handling it better than he was. Jack deserved that, not sitting around in a rotting house watching his father brood all day. 

Arthur had planned carefully, so by the time John returned from his chores around camp everything was done. They had spread a blanket across the floor for a picnic, and he, Jack, and Abigail sat around it, a small cake from a bakery in Saint Denis in the center.  John was shocked. 

“Didn’t think we were gonna just let the day go by, did ya? Come sit down.” Arthur cut cake for all of them, pointedly ignoring the shine of tears in John’s eyes. A kiss from Abigail and a bear hug from Jack had him relaxed enough to enjoy their small party. When Arthur rose to go, he handed John a folded piece of paper. 

“Happy birthday, kid.”

Arthur didn’t know it, but John kept the drawing of himself, Abigail, and Jack tucked in his satchel whenever he had to be away from camp, admiring how Arthur had captured Jack’s smirk, the light in Abigail’s eyes, and how he’d made them look like a real family.

Thirty-Four

John’s first birthday in his new home had been a success, if he did say so himself. Abigail had insisted on Uncle and Jack taking over his chores, while the two of them had hidden the flour to prevent her from even attempting to bake. It had been a peaceful day spent lounging on his own porch, looking out over the sunlight on his own land. It was only when dinner was finished and Uncle and Jack had gone to bed that he felt a twinge of sadness. It came every year, the reminder that Arthur hadn’t been here to share the day with him. The hat from his first year with the gang had been lost in the flight from Beaver Hollow, replaced with Arthur’s own, which was tucked in a drawer in the wardrobe, the family portrait Arthur had drawn inside of it. He still wore the jacket, even though there were few truly cold days in New Austin, even in the winter. He supposed his new life had been Arthur’s last gift, and he hoped he would be proud of what John was doing with it. As he watched a blue jay hop across the railing, closer to his hand than most animals would dare to go, John figured he was.

[loserholland]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠?

Pairing ➺ Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Warning ➺ nothin but fluff

Word Count ➺ 2,533

Summary ➺ Who knew getting the ‘talk’ by the Avengers would be so awkward?

A/N ➺  My request are open! They will be open till July 14 <3 

Request ➺ hey, first can i just say i seriously love your writing? like youre insanely talented. anyway please can i request a peter parker x reader (preferably not dating but lots of tension bc they like each other) where the reader is tonys daughter and she helps peter get changed after spiderman duties and cap walks in and it looks ‘compromising’ and they get a really awkward sex talk from the avengers? like bucky and sam teasing peter and wanda and nat teasing the reader? thanks, dw if not though - anonbabe <3

✿ 𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ✿ - @loveyathreethousand​, @taronxfiction, @killerqueen-gunpowdergelatine, @spideyyypeter @lou-la-lou @babebenhardy @rivervixenbaby @acklesholland @zabdisamor @keepingupwiththehollands@sweet666pea @sspider-parker @jackiehollanderr @iloveyou3000morgan @random-things-i-love  @caro0512

☞  Masterlist  ☜

“To your left Parker.” (Y/N) spoke as she watched on the monitor as he aimed his webshooter towards the intruders, she bit into her apple watching as Peter dodged their punches and groaned lightly as the two intruders bumped heads with one another.

“I can see that babe.” Peter groaned continuing to fight off the guys that broke into a small restaurant in Queens.

It was a good thing Peter couldn’t see her flushed cheeks, though they weren’t dating she had gotten use to the cute pet-names. Anytime Peter was out on a mission, she was the guy well girl in the chair.

The first time she had helped guide him through a fight and watched his back she had joked, “I hope Ned isn’t jealous.”

“The cops are five minutes away, wrap this up underoos.” Peter rolled his eyes playfully at the fact she was using Tony’s nickname for him.

“Alright babe, wrapping it up.”

(Y/N) leaned back into her chair kicking her feet up to rest against the table in front of her, another days work done. Usually she’d be out there helping when her father was home but, he was currently in California so no missions until he’s back. Though he did allow her to help Peter, letting her be the girl in the chair. 

“See you in 15.”

“See you in 15 Parker.”

She stood from the chair she had been sitting in for the past thirty minutes and stretched a little bit before exiting the room and headed for the kitchen. When Tony was out of town she was under the supervision of ‘Earth’s Mightiest Hero’s’. That also meant they enforced the rules when Tony was out of town, usually Nat and Steve were the one’s who were strict on Peter and (Y/N).

The last time Tony was out of town and (Y/N) had gone to a party she was about five minutes past the curfew Nat and Steve had given her. Which meant they had a talk with her about being aware of time and how they’re just worried about her, thankfully Wanda had came in to save her from the long lecture. 

“Hey Nat.” (Y/N) chimed walking over to the fridge to grab two bottles of water, Peter would be back any minute so she planned to meet him outside. 

“Hey, Parker back?” Nat questioned watching as she headed towards the door, “Yeah!” she shouted causing Nat to smile. If there was anything the rest of the Avenger’s knew, it was (Y/N) and Peter liked each other a lot yet never said one word to one another. 

It was cute, like a third grade crush. She could see it in (Y/N) eyes whenever her and Peter were together or the way Peter would just stare at (Y/N) when she was fixing up her suit. 

The moment Peter landed on the facility grounds (Y/N) was waiting for him with a bottle of water, “Good job tonight Parker.” she met him halfway handing him his bottle of water which he gladly accepted.

He removed his mask allowing his brunette curls to breathe, (Y/N) stared up at him in awe wanting to run her fingers through those soft curls. Her mind began to wander, the many thing’s she’d do if her and Peter were together. She didn’t even hear his question.

“Could you help me out of my suit?”

Peter waved his hand in front of (Y/N) face, she seemed to be out of it. Her mind was somewhere else at the moment. He continued to wave his hand in front of her face lightly.

“(Y/N)?”

I mean, they looked soft so they must be soft right? She wanted to cuddle with him and have him lay his head on her chest as she massaged his sc-

“(Y/N).”

She blinked a few times before responding, “Huh?” her cheeks were kissed by a small tint of red, oh was he talking the entire time? I didn’t hear a thing he said.

“I was asking if you could help me out of my suit.”

(Y/N) mouth formed an ‘oh’ he should know the answer to that already, she always helped him out when he came back from spidey duties. Why would tonight be any different?

“Y-yeah of course, we should head in then.”

Once the two got into Peter’s room, (Y/N) removed her jacket leaving her with a white sports bra. Peter had seen her in a sports bra before, but the thing was that certain sports bra. That white sports bra, it was one of his favorites. The way the color just made her skin glow against it, like it was sun-kissed. 

“Any cuts or bruises that need tending to?” she headed for his bathroom to grab the first aid kit, opening the mirror cabinet to retrieve the small kit.

“Yeah, bruise near my torso.” 

Steve walked into the kitchen greeting Nat before asking, “Did Peter get back?” she nodded responding “Yeah, he went to his room with (Y/N).” Steve raised his brows at Nat who just shrugged it off.

“I’ll go check in on them.”

(Y/N) stood in front of him, she leaned in a little her lips at any moment could kiss his. God how he’s been wanting to kiss her, to feel her lips on his. Though it didn’t happen. Yet

She raised her hand to press the spider logo on his chest causing his suit to fall around his feet. Peter stepped out of it as (Y/N) bent down to pick it up to fold it. 

Steve swung open the door to Peter’s room to see (Y/N) face was a few inches away from Peter’s, well little Peter but big Peter was also naked half naked.

Peter looked down at (Y/N) with wide eyes before he backed away from her raising his hands up in the air, “I-It’s not what it looks like!” (Y/N) rolled her eyes lightly at the way Peter had reacted.

“Steve! Ever heard of knocking?”

He ignored what the two had to say and instead said “Uh, what’s that Bucky? I better go.” immediately shut the door and rushed back over to the kitchen to see the rest of the avenger’s were gathered around making themselves dinner.

Sam snickered at Steve’s expression, it looked like he saw a ghost.

“What’s up with you cap?”

“I think I just walked in on Peter and (Y/N) about to- yunno.” 

They looked between one another then bursted out laughing, these two teenagers couldn’t have been possibly getting it on when they know anyone could walk in.

Though the laughter was slowly brought down when they noticed Steve wasn’t laughing along, “You’re not joking are you?” Nat questioned as Steve shook her head ‘no’.

“I guess we’ll just have to give them the talk.”

-

The next morning (Y/N) and Peter walked next to one another, (Y/N) was unbothered by last night but Peter was the complete opposite. He was a nervous wreck afraid Steve had told Tony and Tony was headed back to have Peter’s head for what didn’t even happen.

“Parker, calm down okay? It’s fine, just go work it off. We’ll meet back in an hour or two for lunch.” 

Peter nodded stopping in front of the gym door opening it slightly, “I’m guessing you’ll be in the kitchen with Nat and Wanda?” (Y/N) nodded waving him off to enter the gym watching as he entered before walking away.

He sighed lightly closing his eyes for a brief moment, “Just work it off.” he thought opening his eyes to see Bucky and Sam standing in front of him. Peter jumped back placing his hands on his chest, “Sam, Bucky. Didn’t see you guys there.” walking past the two and headed over to the bench press.

“So Parker, rumor has it that you have a crush on (Y/N) Stark.” Sam teased walking over to stand beside the bench press wearing a little smirk on his lips, Peter stared at the two with wide eyes before sitting up right.

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Bucky shook his head lightly before pointing out, “You’re lying, your voice just went up a few octaves.” Peter groaned lightly, damn it. 

“Now, we feel that since Cap informed us on what he witnessed yesterday-”

“It wasn’t what it-”

Sam waved his index finger from side to side, “No, no the adults are talking. Now we feel that it’s our responsibility to give you the talk.”

These two? Yeah they’ll give out the wrong information.

“I-I think I’m good, I already learned about it in health class.”

“Well, no we’re giving you the talk now. First of all, how to avoid pregnancy...”

-

(Y/N) hummed as she walked into the kitchen greeting Nat and Wanda “Good morning.” grabbing a banana and a small bottle of orange juice, once (Y/N) started eating the banana Nat piped “I heard Steve nearly walked in on you and Peter doing that.” 

She choked lightly on the banana moving over to the trash to spit it out, “What?!” Wanda patted on the seat that was between her and Nat motioning for (Y/N) to take a sit.

“(Y/N) hun, I know that right now your hormones are everywhere and you maybe want to experience things but-” (Y/N) shook her head at Wanda “No, no we are not having the talk! I’ve been through it!” 

Nat snickered “From last night, I think we need to have it again. I know you like Peter-” (Y/N) opened her mouth to speak but Nat was quick to cut her off “No, don’t even deny that you have feelings for him.”

She slouched in her chair glaring at Nat, “I don’t know what Steve told you but, I was just helping Peter out of his suit and was going to tend to his bruise! Steve needs to learn how to knock!”

-

“So how long have you liked (Y/N) spidey boy?” Sam teased watching Peter attempt to hide his blush, he’s had a crush on her ever since Tony had introduced him to her.

“Ever since I met her.” he mumbled, Sam and Bucky looked between one another they had caught what he said but wanted him to say it again. “What was that?”

“Ever since I met her!” Peter repeated not looking at the two who were teasing him for the past thirty minutes.

“Awe did you tell her you like her?!” Sam said in a high pitched voice blinking his eyes at Peter in attempts to make it look like he was fluttering his lashes.

“No. She wouldn’t like a dork like me, she’s way out of my league.” 

“You’re not wrong spi-”

Bucky elbowed Sam glaring at him for even saying what he wanted to say, “Peter, look she likes you. I’ve seen it, the way she looks at you she feels the same way. Plus I’ve heard you call her babe or princess. If she didn’t like you she wouldn’t allow you to call her that.”

-

“I like him a lot, he’s so funny and understanding and doesn’t see me as ‘Tony Stark’s daughter’ he see’s me as me, (Y/N). Whenever I’m having a bad day he’s there to make it better. He makes my day and night.”

“He stares at you with such awe (Y/N), he’s a keeper.” Wanda commented causing (Y/N) to bury her face in her hands to hide her blush.

(Y/N) looked down at her watch any moment now her and Peter would leave to get lunch.

“Peter and I were planning on getting lunch.” (Y/N) announced hopping off of her chair Nat smiled “Go on then, and maybe tell him how you feel.” (Y/N) nodded before heading out to the door.

Meet me outside. Sent

Peter looked down at his phone to see (Y/N) had texted him, “Shoot, sorry guys (Y/N) and I are going out to lunch right now. Uh thanks for the talk?” Peter got up from the bench pressed and headed for the door.

“Hey spidey!” Sam called before Peter could exit the gym, Peter looked back for a brief moment “Tell her how you feel. Don’t disappoint us.” with that Peter rushed out the doors.

He was going to tell her, he was going to tell her how he felt.

“Hey!” Peter shouted as he jogged towards (Y/N), her brows pinched in confusion “Hey, you didn’t work out?” she questioned noticing that Peter was still wearing the same clothes. Usually after working out he takes a quick shower and changes out of his workout clothes.

“No actually, Sam and Bucky gave me the ‘talk’.”

(Y/N) chuckled lightly brushing the piece of hair that flew in her face behind her ear, “Funny, Nat and Wanda did the same thing.” the rest of the avenger’s gathered around the window watching the two teenager’s.

“I wanted to tell you something.” Peter and (Y/N) said in a unison, “No you go first.” they repeated before a light laughter erupted from (Y/N) chest, “Lady’s first.” Peter offered causing her to sigh lightly.

“Okay well, I remember the day I first met you. At first I thought my dad would pay attention to you more than he would me, so I thought I’d hate you. Until we started talking more and found out we have a lot in common. I was never good at being honest with my feelings and I’m just here to say that, I like you a lot Peter. You make my day, you understand me more than myself.”

Peter stood there for a moment, holy shit Sam and Bucky were right! They were fucking right!

“Peter?” (Y/N) questioned as she waved her hand in front of his face, panic began to settle in.

“Peter please say something.” (Y/N) whispered.

“I like you too, holy shit you like me too! I honestly never thought you’d like me because I’m a huge dork! You’re also way out of my league and deserve way better than me but holy shit you like me too! I-I like you too. I said that already, now I’m ramb-”

(Y/N) stood on her toes and placed her hand on the back of his nape placing her lips on his shutting Peter up, “They kissed!” Sam shouted as Bucky slapped the back of his neck “We can see that.”

You know how they say when you kiss someone, you could feel some sort of electricity? Like fireworks? As cliche as it sounds that’s exactly what they felt. It was slow yet filled with so much passion.

(Y/N) pulled away lightly before resting her forehead against his, she closed her eyes for a moment before asking “They’re watching aren’t they?” Peter chuckled then said “Yeah, on the count of three we’ll look at them. One. Two. Three.” Peter and (Y/N) looked up at the gang who quickly backed away from the window.

“Do you think they saw us?” Nat questioned watching as Wanda peeked to see if they were still staring at the window, (Y/N) was waving up at the window.

“Yeah, they saw us.”

(Y/N) intwined her hand with Peter’s, “Let’s go to lunch.” 

Who knew Steve walking in on them could lead to such a great thing?

[clarasfm]

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐒: 𝙘𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙚𝙡 𝙨𝙡𝙤𝙖𝙣𝙚 .

𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧.𝐬𝟕: lil sloane bc she got her personality from me 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧.𝐬𝟕: sick burn to go w/ my matching farmer’s tan 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧.𝐬𝟕: lads ft @cohentm 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧.𝐬𝟕: idfc bro i’m in love w/ a god damn pipsqueak ft @oliviasfm 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧.𝐬𝟕: weekend off & down to the coast ft clara , cohen , nat , & liv 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧.𝐬𝟕: liv capturing the exact moment @gifms called me slenderman??? the fuck

𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐍𝐄 , the easiest of the sloane family to love . . . 

if you ask clara , she’ll be the first to tell you that CAM was the best of them . in fact , if you ask anyone , they’d tell you that CAM was the best of them . the best son . the best big brother . the best boyfriend . the best best friend . the best hockey player dillon had ever seen . . . and despite all of these BESTS , if you asked him , he would’ve given you another name .

he was three when clara came along , on his toes with his nose pressed to the glass as he stood next to his father , asking which baby was theirs . cam didn’t really talk much as a kid , but when he did , it was question after question . why is she in there , not out here ? why is she bald ? is her nose always going to be that smushed ? what’s her name ? and they gave him a choice : chloe , caroline , callie , or clara . with a wild imagination , and the nutcracker a december tradition , there was no contest and cameron –– who originally wanted a puppy –– was happy to welcome clara home . 

he was TEN when their mother left without so much as a word . the school called jack thirty minutes past pickup when two tiny sloanes were the only ones left , sitting side by side on a bench , swinging their legs back and forth . by then , he’d stopped asking questions and STARTED answering them . clara’s , to be exact , because from a young age , cam had patience like no one else and a willingness to TEACH when it was needed . and it was much needed as a family of four was reduced to three , and neither of them quite understood what they’d done wrong to make her leave . 

he was FIFTEEN when he taught clara to skate . . . among other things . on ice , on pavement , on a board , on blades . he’d taught her how to throw a football and spotted her when she practiced tumbling in the backyard . high school was HARD , but his grades were decent , and that’s all they had to be . . . because cam was damn near the best hockey player there was . there was no real teenage rebellion for him . he was too busy on the ice , with his team , or playing dad #2 at home . any REBELLION was found in his two best friends . . . cohen and beck . a kid who never smiled and one who couldn’t seem to stop . they were an odd group , to say the least , but he’d always wanted brothers , and he was happy to find them in dillon . not that it was hard ; people LIKED cam . he was . . . responsible and kind , funny and , as clara would come to call him , anal retentive . type a . completely and utterly obsessed with making sure his hair flopped in the right place . . . and making sure she got her homework done each night . they fought . a lot . because cameron was BOSSY and clara didn’t listen . 

he as SEVENTEEN when he fell in love with eyes bluer than any ocean he’d ever had the luck of running into . it was weird , at first , because olivia was not meant to be anything more than clara’s friend . . . who wouldn’t fucking leave their house . . . or the lingering thoughts in his head . she was FUNNIER than anyone he’d ever known , and he kissed her for the first time on the fourth of july , under the noise of fireworks and laughter . she never missed a hockey game , and he loved her for it . she never failed to make him smile , and he loved her for it . she was a little bit fucking weird . . . and he loved her for it . 

he was NINETEEN when things really started to look up . college was going well , and you bet he was still in love . that punk sister of his wasn’t turning out half bad . . . so it seemed he did a pretty good job . he’d declared his major his second semester at dillon : ELEMENTARY EDUCATION , and it was almost as natural as hockey . on the weekends , he taught lessons at the local rink and coached a team of middle school boys on the ice . friday nights were date night , and sundays were meant for SLOANE family dinners . life was painstakingly good , and the only thing you’d hear him complaining about was how often cohen kept him out all night –– not that it was earnest .

he was freshly TWENTY-ONE when he died , and it’s not what you think . it’s not very often texas finds itself drenched in a downpour , but this one had come faster than anyone expected . cam was behind the wheel after a post - game party , not a drop of alcohol in his blood , but his friends were long past gone . he’d wrestled the keys away from one of them and took the liberty of driving everyone home . or –– that was the intention . at a quarter to two in the morning , the sloane house flooded with flashing RED AND BLUE . coach was pulled out of his bed late into the night , and clara , of course , followed . a car accident . four in the vehicle , three survivors . . . but one of them was hardly hanging on . in fact , the only thing keeping him hanging on was a mess of machines and wires and needles . 

he’d hate this , clara mumbled from the opposite side of the room , arms folded over her chest , he’d hate this more than anything . it was the first time she’d ever seen her FATHER cry as he choked out a broken acknowledgement , and despite the grip around her throat making it hard to BREATHE , she couldn’t bring herself to tears . not when her father signed the papers . not when she found herself sitting by his bedside , alone for the last time , with that furrowed brow and fidgeting fingertips . 

ALRIGHT , big guy . . . what if i tell you your HAIR looks like shit . . . or that i’m going to take your car MUDDIN’ or . . . listen , cam . now would be a real good time to pull off one of those miracles . 

because even then , just as she is now , clara was BLINDLY optimistic . but looking down at her brother , STAGNANT , she knew . he’d hate this , and she still didn’t cry as she nodded and whispered a broken it’s okay . i’ll be fine .

she still didn’t cry as the machines were turned off or the last exhale deflated his chest . she still didn’t cry at the wake , the funeral . not the night after , not the week after . she was too STUBBORN . . . to angry to cry . 

instead , it came nearly a MONTH later when a stubborn dishwasher rack wouldn’t pull out and a plate came shattering to the ground . everything that she’d BOTTLED UP came rushing to the surface , and once the tears began , they couldn’t stop . she couldn’t speak ; she could hardly BREATHE . crumbled on the kitchen floor , cut after scrambling to pick up the glass , and SLAMMED with an emotion never taught her how to deal with . it was call coach could do to call olivia , who quietly sank to the ground with her and held on tight . 

it’s not often that you’ll see CLARA SLOANE cry . . . because it’s not often that it happens . instead , you’ll find anger . . . or indifference . . . and it’s a fatal flaw that needs TIME to heal , just as she does . 

still , her father doesn’t much talk about cameron . his room remains untouched , his car under a tarp in the shed . 

still , she’ll talk about him every now and then . . . when she’s comfortable , with faint laughter and the same sparkle in her eye that cam got when someone said something funny . 

still , she can’t step foot into the rink he’d loved so much . . . just as she doesn’t know how to talk to coach about him . 

but with time comes healing , and clara tries to keep him in the back of her mind , making the BIG life choices with cam’s wishes as a guiding light .

[winnipegpatty]

untimely conversations | s.m. one shot

a/n: this if for the anon that requested shawn and reader get in a fight at his parents house. this is 3k full of nice angst. please send me your feedback and check out my masterlist and also consider buying me a ko-fi if you enjoyed it (links in the bio)!! love youuuu!

“My parents want to have dinner with us this week?”

They were cuddled together in bed on a Wednesday night, and Shawn was tired from the studio work he’d been doing early in the week.

“Sounds nice,” Y/N replied groggily, “Haven’t seen them in a while.”

Shawn nodded before yawning, “Just been so busy.” His voice was quiet and heavy with sleep.

She nodded against his shoulder before she kissed it lightly. She started drawing small patterns on Shawn’s stomach, liking the way his stomach rose and fell with his breathing. They were quiet for a while, and Y/N was sure he must have gone to sleep, his breathing having evened out slightly.

“If my mom mentions an engagement,” Shawn said softly after a while, “just, don’t get upset, okay?”

Her fingers stilled against his chest, going completely flat over his heart, “Why would she ask about that?”

Shawn sighed, turning slightly so that he could see Y/N’s face. “Well, you know Karen,” he said using his mother’s first name. “She’s a little traditional in some respects, and she’s just, uh,” Shawn stammered for a moment, unsure of his words.

“Shawn,” she wandered, “What’s going on?”

“We’ve been together for almost three years, and living together for a year a half, and I think she’s just getting tired of waiting around for it to happen.” Shawn let out a breath, slightly blowing over top her head.

“Did she actually mention this, or are you just assuming?” Y/N tilted her head up slightly to look at Shawn’s as they lie side by side.

“Not exactly, but she hinted strongly, you know how mothers do.”

Y/N was silent for a while. The truth was, she had to agree with Karen. It’s not that she had expected Shawn to propose quickly or anything, not at all. Especially not with the life he lived. He had to be cautious with who he let in, but the question of whether or not to let her into his life had long since passed. She’d squeezed her way into every aspect of Shawn’s life. He wrote songs about her, brought her on tour often, talked about her in interviews. She’d met his family years ago and was a regular in his friend group at this point. She was sure after moving in together that it would be the next step, but they’d been living together for a year and a half and there hadn’t been any progress in that area. And she wasn’t exactly upset with Shawn about this. She loved Shawn and enjoyed the life they spent with each other. But Karen’s expectation for them to get married wasn’t entirely far fetched.

“Well,” she finally spoke, “I won’t get upset.”

Shawn nodded before leaning down and kissing her lips lightly, whispered his love to her in the quiet of the night. They fell asleep not to long after, both completely bone tired from a hard days work.

___

Friday came around, and the dinner with Karen and Manny was set to start in thirty minutes. Y/N was still struggling to find the right outfit, something cute and dressy but not too cute or too dressy.

“Which one?” She asked Shawn, coming out of the closet holding up two vastly different ensembles.

Shawn, not looking up from his phone where he was typing furiously, “Either is great, babe.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “You didn’t even look, Shawn.”

Shawn, reluctantly pulling his eyes away from his phone, looked at the two options before saying, “Left,” and then returning to his phone.

“You sure that’s not too...sexy?”

Shawn huffed, “Y/N, I don’t care. My parents aren't going to care. They love you, just pick one.”

She turned, frustrated with Shawn’s lack of help, and returned to the closet, eventually choosing a completely different outfit all together. Ten minutes later she emerged from the closet, ready to go. She grabbed her clutch from the bedside table and asked Shawn if he was ready.

“Mhmm,” Shawn mumbled, standing up robotically as he followed her out of the condo on autopilot, reaching the car in no time.

The drive to the Mendes household was quick and quiet, as Y/N stared out the window, watching as they slowly left their familiar surroundings of downtown Toronto and headed towards the land of suburbia, Pickering.

“Andrew wants me in the studio all day tomorrow,” Shawn said as they hit the halfway mark between Toronto and Pickering.

Her eyes left the window and snapped to Shawn, shocked. “What? It’s Saturday Shawn, and you’ve been there all week!”

Shawn sighed, tapping the steering wheel, “I know. But recording is almost done, and he doesn’t want to have to have to book another week.”

Y/N looked down at her lap, flicking at her chipped nail polish. “I thought, maybe we could do something together tomorrow though…”

Shawn glanced over apologetically, “I know, I know… Saturdays are usually our day together, but I’m sorry. You know what Andrew wants, he gets.”

“It’s not just Saturday, Shawn…” She trailed over quietly.

“There’s nothing I can do. It’s out of my hands, I just wanted to let you know.” Shawn responded, frustration lacing his tone.

Looking back out the window where a light snow had begun to fall, Y/N stayed silent for the rest of the drive trying not to think about the fact that Shawn seems to have completely forgotten their third anniversary.

Once they’d made their arrival, Karen and Manny greeted them warmly, welcoming them into their home and bringing them out of the cold snow.

“How are you doing, baby?” She asked Shawn sweetly as she kissed his temple lightly.

“Good, work has been crazy, just really tired lately.”

She nodded in understanding before pulling Y/N into a hug, “And how you are, darling?”

Y/N hugged her back lightly, nestling her head into her shoulder searching for a sense of comfort, “I’m doing fine,’ she finally responded, pulling back slightly.

Karen eyed her for a moment before replying with a sharp nod, “That’s good.”

Manny got the two of them drinks, and together the four of them wandered into the living area, each finding seats around the room, Y/N sitting next to Shawn, but not touching. Their legs weren’t pressed against each others like they normally would be, and Shawn eyed Y/N for a moment where she was sat. He decided to not say anything, instead turning his attention to his parents.

“How’s Liyah?” He asked.

“Oh you know, just being a teenage girl,” Karen smiled sweetly.

Manny sat up, leaning slightly towards Shawn, “You know she started looking at universities last month.”

Shawn’s eyes widened, “What? No. Already?”

“Well she is almost seventeen, love.” Karen laughed.

“Don’t remind me,” Shawn grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What schools is she looking at?” Y/N asked, entering the conversation.

“Mostly local stuff, but she is looking at a few in Montreal and BC. And two in the States and one in London.”

Shawn’s jaw dropped, “Why does she even need to look at so many schools?”

Karen laughed, “It’s early in the process honey, she’s just looking at lots of options. She’ll narrow it down when it gets closer.”

“Li is so smart,” Y/N whispered, almost as though she were talking to herself, “She could do anything.”

Karen smiled softly at the young girl, “She is a bright one. We got very lucky with our two.” She directed her smile at Shawn, who was probably already blushing. Y/N didn’t know though because she was only looking at her lap, thinking about how lucky she thought she was for having someone like Shawn. Wondering where they went wrong and lost communication.

At dinner, Manny and Shawn carried most of the conversation, with Karen and Y/N only piping in for a few one liners here and there. But Y/N was content in her quiet place. Retreating to the back of her mind, that’s where she liked to be anyway. It was the place where people couldn’t hurt her, she could really only hurt herself.

“So, Y/N,” Karen asked later in the evening. Their plates almost empty and they were finishing their second glass of wine. “Are there any big plans coming up for you?”

She watched Karen for a moment, not entirely sure what she meant. “No,” she answered, “Just the usual at work. We’ve got a pretty big case right now that we’re working on, trying to find a good stable home for one particular kid who’s been in and out of homes for a while.”

Karen hummed sadly, “That must be hard, seeing so many kids living rough childhoods.”

She nodded, “It is, but we’re there to help and to try and connect as many kids as we can with stable, loving homes.”

“Do you ever think about having kids of your own one day?” Karen asked innocently.

“Mom--” Shawn warned, stepping in immediately.

“What?” She raised her hands, looking at Shawn. “It’s a simple question, with absolutely no relation to you, unless you’ve changed your name.”

Shawn rolled his eyes, looking at his girlfriend, “You do not have to answer her if you feel uncomfortable.”

Y/N turned to Shawn, “Why would that make me uncomfortable?” She rolled her eyes at Shawn’s childish behavior before returning her gaze to Karen. “I’d love to have children eventually. But I don’t see it happening any time soon.”

“Well some things take…” Karen paused for a moment, glancing at Shawn, “Time.”

Shawn leaned back in his chair, groaning. “Mom, please you said you wouldn’t do this.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Shawn.” She took a sip of her wine.

“Shawn, it’s fine.” Y/N said, lightly placing her hand on his bicep.

“Is it such a crime to wonder whether or not my own son plans on ever getting married?” Karen directed the question to Manny, who wisely stayed completely silent on the manner.

“Mom!” Shawn shouted, frustrated. “We have talked about this so many times, why do you always have to bring it up. Just stop! Y/N doesn’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about it. You don’t need to ruin the evening with this conversation every goddamn time we come over!” Shawn huffed, running a hand through his hair.

Y/N coughed uncomfortably, saying quietly, “Well, I’m perfectly fine discussing it.”

Shawn’s pupils flared, studying his girlfriend for a moment, not entirely sure why she was being so difficult right now. Shawn just wanted this conversation to move forward, but it seemed that everyone in the room was working against him. “What do you mean?” He criticized.

“I’m just saying,” she breathed out, “that it’s not an entirely unfair question ask.”

Shawn grinded his teeth. “You want to talk about this here, right now, in front of my parents?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” she explained. “I’m just saying your mom is right to wonder when you might want to get married considering you’ve been dating your girlfriend for three years. Or did you forget that it’s been three years?”

If there ever was someone who resembled one of those cartoon characters with steam coming out of their eyes and their face burning red, it was Shawn right now. Y/N had never seen Shawn quite so livid, but frankly she didn’t really care.

“So what? You wanna get married?” Shawn snarled. “We can get married.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and didn’t bother responding.

“No,” Shawn said, completely on edge now. “You want to talk about this? Let’s fucking talk, Y/N! You want to be a goddamn brat and demand that we discuss this in front of my parents, then let’s do it.You want kids too, I know you do. So how many? Do you already have their names picked out?”

“Shawn, that’s enough.” Karen said, finally stepping in.

“It’s fine, Karen.” Y/N whispered, defending herself, but still not responding to her boyfriend.

“No, it’s not,” Karen reprimanded, looking towards her son. “We never taught you to speak to women like that.”

“Give it a rest, mom.” Shawn said, standing up from his chair, pointing his finger at her defensively. “You started this in the first place. I told you not to bring this shit up, and you did it anyway.”

“Shawn,” Karen warned, equally as defensive as his son. She was ready to make any war he waged.

“Karen, really,” Y/N said trying to defuse the tense situation, “It’s fine. It’s very clear that Shawn doesn’t want to discuss marriage or anything of the like. I’m sure it has nothing to do with you. It has to do with me.”

“No, no. That’s not it.” Karen said in a calm motherly tone, trying to reassure the younger woman of her worth.

“Maybe that is is.” Shawn whispered, refusing to meet Y/N’s gaze.

Karen’s eyes snapped to Shawn, filled with anger. Manny’s weary gaze watched as Y/N’s eyes welled up lightly, she coughed trying to cover her hurt.

“I am not ready to get married, why is that so unacceptable?” Shawn wondered.

“It’s not,” Karen said in a stern, but calm voice. “What’s unacceptable is your current behavior and the way you’re speaking to your girlfriend, whom you’re supposed to love. If you’re not ready to get married, that’s perfectly alright. You’re both young. You have a lot going on in your careers. But if you’re unable to speak to your girlfriend in a calm, not demeaning manner then I believe I’ve completely failed you as a mother. You should never feel comfortable speaking to Y/N like that under any circumstances.”

Shawn looked down at his feet, shuffling uncomfortably. It had been a long while since he’d had a disappointed mother speech, but he’d recognize the tone in her voice anywhere. It was the kind of speech that tore your gut apart from the inside out with worry because you’d managed to disappoint your mother. There were very few feelings worse than this one.

“You need to apologize to her.” Karen spoke again.

“Mom,” Shawn moaned, “I’m not a five years old anymore.”

Karen’s eyes widened, “Could have fooled me.”

Shawn’s shoulders hunched over in embarrassment, finally looking at Y/N. He held his hand out to her, ignoring the sinking feeling in his gut when he finally saw that she’d been crying. “Can we talk?”

Y/N took his hand, following him down the hall and into his childhood bedroom. Shawn closed the door behind them, leaning against the door. Their hands, still lightly clasped together, hung loosely between the two of them.  

“I’m sorry!” Shawn whispered.

“Saturday’s our three year anniversary,” Y/N rushed at the same time Shawn spoke.

“Wait what?” Shawn asked, eyes wide in shock.

Y/N’s lip wavered, knowing Shawn really had forgotten. “Our three year, it’s tomorrow. And you didn’t even remember.”

“No, it can’t be it’s not even…” Shawn trailed off, thinking back on what month it was and how far they were into the month before he let out a, “Fuck.” He hit his head back on the door. “I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N.”

Y/N tugged on his hand, turning to face him on the door. “I don’t care that you don’t want to get married. Or that you don’t want to get married right now. Or have children or whatever. We haven’t talked a whole lot about those things, and I’m perfectly fine with that. But when you didn’t remember our anniversary, it killed me a little bit inside. Shawn, I know that one day I want to marry you. I know that one day I want to have your kids. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You are the only person for me. There’s no question in my mind. I don’t care when those things happen. They could happen tomorrow or in thirty years. I just know that there’s not a single day I want to live without you. And you forgetting something like that, really makes me question if you like that towards me or if I’m just a familiar comfort for you.”

Shawn reached out, cupping her cheek. “No, no please don’t say those things. They’re not true. I could never ask for anyone greater than you. There is no one more perfect for me than you. There’s no one else I think about, no one else I’d rather be with. It’s only you. And it’s always going to be you. You’re absolutely the person I see by my side at every major event in my life down the road.” Shawn rested his forehead against hers. “This is a fucking weak excuse, but it’s all I have. Work has been insane, and I should have put more priority on your and our relationship, but I didn’t. And for that I’m sorry. I am sorry for forgetting something so important. There isn’t an excuse that makes up for that. And I’m still going to have to go to work tomorrow, but I swear to god, I will make it up to you. Please  forgive me. For everything. For what I said to you like a fucking idiot, and for the way I’ve treated you over the past few weeks.”

Y/N pressed her lips against Shawn’s, savoring the taste of wine on his lips. “I forgive you,” she said as she pulled away. “And I love your parents, but can we go home now because I really don’t want to have to deal with aftermath of that situation we just created.”

Shawn nodded, chuckling lightly. “I second that. I don’t think my mom has ever been more disappointed in me before. Not even when I broke up with my first girlfriend over text message.”

Y/N cringed, “Shawn.”

“I know, it was bad.” He laughed lightly again. “I love you.” He said through a trail of kisses on her jaw.

“I love you too,” she whispered. “But the apology isn’t going to come quite as easily next time if you talk to me like that again.”

“Noted. Now let’s go home.”

tagging: @peacedolantwins2 @rosecth @unhealthyobsessionwithmarvel @justanotherfangurl272 @yourwonderbelle (let me know if you wanna be added!)

[angelicspaceprince]

Bruised

Author:   Ama 

Title: Bruised

Pairing: Doctor Martin Whitly x Reader

Character/s: Doctor Martin Whitly, mentions of Malcolm Whitly/Bright and Ainsley Whitly.

Word Count: 2, 649 words

Warnings: Spanking, some sexual stuff (18+ only please), some BDSM tones, Doctor being a title like Master or Sir

Tags:  @trelaney  

Prompt: You’d promised Doctor Whitly that you’d be good but you can’t help but bend the rules. The Doctor has had enough, and its time to be punished.

Notes: So I’m going to try and do Kinktober this year but I’m already late so they are all gonna be drabbles and randomised bc lol love it. See the full list of what to expect and what pairings, plus what kinks, here plus my two (hopefully to be released on Halloween) specials on the same page.

Also I know Martin is a serial killer, I know he’s an asshole but he’s a charming asshole that makes me want to sit on his face. So no, I hold no shame in this.

  Buy Me a Coffee 

Bruised

Being married to Martin was a chore some days. Being a step-mother to his two beautiful children that he had to his last wife after she mysteriously died was a challenge. But you loved every single minute.

Sure, stepping into the role of mother to two young ones when the youngest was only 12 weeks old wasn’t ideal but you loved Martin and Martin loved you, any challenge could be over come because surely you could work it out together.

The thing that annoyed you the most that, even after two years of being married to the love of your life, was the rules that he had in place that were iron tight and never bending (which was half the fun of having rules in the first place, you thought). You and the children weren’t allowed in his hobby room, for example. If you wanted his attention, you went to the door and called for him and he came to you. Family time is family time, was another. No distractions from your work or his allowed. That he had to be involved with every decision made regarding the children. They were, after all, his children and you were still, technically, the newcomer. Martin was very big on co-parenting so he always made sure your thoughts, opinions and needs were met but also ensured that his were too. The one that was the hardest one to abide by, however, was his rules about contacting him at work. Never during surgery, never during a consultation and never unless it was an emergency.

You understood the rules. You understood why they were there. And sure, the kinky stuff that happened when you broke the rules was fun. But it was also frustrating. You got frustrated when you called during a surgery because Ainsley had a fever and wouldn’t stop crying. You weren’t sure what to do and he hung up on you to deal with it yourself, followed by a screaming match that evening because you broke one of his precious rules because you panicked and didn’t know what to do. But after that, you spoke and came up with a system, so you knew when was appropriate to call him and when wasn’t. After all, you aren’t medically trained and had never dealt with a sick child before. He granted you a little slack.

So, today, when Malcolm was, for the twelfth time that morning, puking his guts up in the toilet, you called Martin to let him know Malcolm was going to have the day off of school. When the nurse picked up and informed you that you just missed him and he’d gone into the surgery that he had been prepping for for weeks now due to the intensity of the procedure, and she asked if you wanted to speak to him you swore under your breath before reassuring her. No. It’s fine. In fact, don’t even tell him I called.

Malcolm can have a sick day, Martin would never know.

Malcolm stopped vomiting around lunch time, and was all but better by dinner. Martin still hadn’t returned and you got a call from the night nurse to tell you that he was probably not going to make it home before midnight. Great. You got the kids ready for bed and slipped into bed shortly after, promising to tell Martin in the morning what happened with Malcolm. You woke up slightly after feeling Martin kiss you good night as he also slipped into bed after a long day, quickly noting that it was closer to 3am than midnight. You asked him quietly as he holds you close to him how it all went and the grumble that came with it suggests that it wasn’t a success. You move to grab his hand and rub your thumb against his arm in comfort as you both drift back off to sleep.

Martin insisted on taking Malcolm to school the next morning, having barely had three hours sleep but needing to be with his son for that thirty-minute trip to school before heading to work. You got Ainsley to preschool before heading off to your work for the day, coming home after picking up the kids, helping Malcolm with his homework as you cooked dinner and had family time as per Martin’s request. All was quiet and easy, just a regular day. Content, you were convinced you managed to get away with bending Martin’s rule slightly. Then the kids were in bed. And it was like the atmosphere had changed.

Walking up to the bedroom, you couldn’t help but feel something akinned to dread filling the pit of your stomach. When you entered your shared room, Martin was there removing his cuff links and humming to yourself. Just anxiety, you tell yourself. Everything is fine.

You go about your usual nightly routine silently, both in your own thoughts. Martin is the one to break the silence.

“You’ll never guess what Malcolm’s teacher told me today.” You hum in acknowledgement, not completely listening as you come out from the bathroom and towards the bed. “She said that it was great to see Malcolm feeling so much better after having to stay home yesterday.”

Your heart stops. Shit. You knew you forgot to tell him something this morning. The look on his face is positively feral as you try to get your words together.

“I’m so sorry Martin, I called but you were in surgery, and I-” Your words come tumbling out in a large mess as you try to explain

“Oh no love. I don’t think you deserve to call me that tonight.” His voice is low, dark, and you know instantly, you’re going to be punished. And not in a good way.

You swallow and try again as he slowly makes his way over to you, eyes never leaving you. “Sorry, Doctor Whitly. I called to explain the situation, but you had already started surgery. I didn’t think you wanted to be interrupted, so I called Malcolm in sick. I was going to tell you this morning but with the rush and you didn’t get in until 3 I thought perhaps, I could just let it slide for now, tell you maybe tomorrow when things were calmer. He was really very sick.” You finished before adding a smaller apology at the end of your ramble which causes him to send you a small, firm smile as he rubs the sides of both your upper arms in a comforting manner.

“I know you are, love.” His voice seems to calm you for a second. “Unfortunately, you still need to be punished.”

You aren’t sure if you’re excited or nervous as he moves to sit at the edge of the bed and pats his lap expectedly. “Mar-” The look on his face makes you change your tactic. “Doctor Whitly, is this really necessary?” His look darkens, clearly about to give you your first warning. You tried, with very little success, to drape yourself across his lap with some dignity. He moves your hips until your hips rest tilted up towards him in his lap as the rest of your body drapes across and dangles either side of him.

“You’ve been so disobedient; do you really think you could get away without some form of punishment?” He chides you as he harshly yanks down your shorts and panties, leaving your ass bare. “Do you remember what I expect of you?”

You nod and yelp as you get a warning tap to your rear, not hard enough to sting but enough to prompt you to verbalise. “Count, thank, apologise.” You recite. “Be truthful with colour checks, green is good, yellow is ok, red is stop. Safe word is thoracic.” He rubs your thigh as praise as you go through your script before tapping at them to get you to spread them slightly for better balance.

“Let’s see, you called me during a very important, career changing surgery, only to hang up and waste the nurse’s time. You made an important parenting decision for my son without consulting me first. You then forgot to tell me the following day and I had to find out from Malcolm’s teacher. You have refused to address me properly twice just this evening. Five strikes for each count I believe is fair, don’t you dearest?” You knew that it was a trick question, if Martin thought the punishment was fair, that’s the punishment you’re going to get. Nonetheless, he always asks if you agreed.

“Yes, Doctor Whitly.” You state quietly as you prepare for the punishment to begin.

You can hear your husband hum happily at your words before lifting his hand, ready for the first strike. “Don’t forget, Y/N, if you miss one, we start again.”

You squeak when the first smack hits your left cheek, the sting instant and the heat follows soon after. Your face seems to heat up in embarrassment as you breathe and prepare for the second, not realising what you had forgotten until Martin clears his throat. Quickly, you fix your mistake. “One. Thank you, Doctor Whitly. Sorry, Doctor Whitly.” 

Its rushed, but the words are all there. He is tempted to have you start again and add another five to the list. You seem to be shaking as you wait for him to either smack you again or tell you to start again. “I will forgive your forgetfulness this one time, pet.” He states somewhat kindly before his hand makes contact with your right cheek, again the sting appearing before the heat.

“Two. Thank you, Doctor Whitly. Sorry, Doctor Whitly.”

Martin continues with your punishment, stopping for long enough for you to state the number you were up to, thank him for your punishment and apologise for your transgressions. The power he got from you calling him by his medical title is something he’s never been able to find elsewhere, and he is enjoying every moment. He made sure never to hit the same place twice and watches as your flesh seems to ripple against his hand in an appealing manner. Your skin is slowly turning redder by his hand as he moves down to mark up your thighs to match your now cherry red ass. Such a nice colour, his favourite colour on you.

The first smack to your thigh surprises you. You hold back a swear as you continue you’re your count. “Nine. Thank you, Doctor Whitly. Sorry, Doctor Whitly.”

“Colour?”

“Green.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” You grunt at the next strike to your left upper thigh, you are sure this one was harder than the others. “Ten. Thank you, Doctor Whitly. Sorry, Doctor Whitly.” There seems to be a pause as you shift slightly in his lap.

“You’re not enjoying this, are you? This is supposed to be your punishment, pet.” His bemused voice fills the room as your already red face flushes further.

You had been trying to ignore the heat in your belly that had been growing with each passing strike and how you were slowly becoming wetter as time went on. “I’m sorry, Doctor Whitly, I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh, but you did.” His palm lands flat against your ass again as he moves to see how wet your cunt is as you continue with your count. “You really are a bad girl, ignoring my rules, enjoying your punishment. I’m convinced you break my rules so you can be back in this position.” You bite back a moan as a finger is pushed inside of you and just held there. You don’t dare buck up against him, or grind or beg for more. This was a test. You just knew it.

Again, he chuckles as he removes his finger and smacks your thighs twice each side in quick concession. You hurry to catch up with your mantra as he sucks your juices off his finger. “Good girl.” He rewards, moving to soothe the angry red skin. “Only ten more to go, can you handle it?” You nod, looking straight at the door as you wait for the rest of your punishment.

The final ten strikes come quickly after you’ve counted, thanked and apologised Martin. You are sure you are going to have bruises and there isn’t a part of your thighs and ass that isn’t red in some way. Martin is quick to rub every red area with his hand as he soothes you, praising you for doing so well, asking if you wanted ointment to help with the bruising and pain. You hum, which he takes as a yes because soon he’s rubbing something into your skin and your shorts and panties are pulled up and over your bum again, keeping you decent. You had two little ones in your house, pyjamas weren’t optional anymore.

He pulls you up and into his lap with your knees either side his waist as he holds you and rubs your back, making sure you’re ok as he hums you small tunes and makes sure you are ok.

“Did you want me to help with that?” He asks, indicating to the wet patch clearly growing on your panties. You were absolutely dripping but the idea of anything touching you wasn’t something you were keen on right now. You shake your head.

“Just hold me?” Martin smiles at your request.

“Oh, I think I can do that. Let’s get on the bed properly love.” He brings you up to the top of the bed and towards the centre so the two of you can rest together properly as he continues to take care of you, making sure you are safe in your own mind and not in need of anything. “Tea?”

“No, I don’t know what blend you use but it always makes me super sleepy.” You complain as you yawn loudly. “And I’m sleepy enough as is. Thank you, though.” He just looks down at you with a smile as you snuggle closer to him and bring the blankets over you, you still straddling him as he holds you close. “I was going to tell you. I didn’t mean to keep it secret, I just didn’t want to interrupt your surgery and it wasn’t a big deal. Just a tummy bug, really.”

“I still would have liked to have known what was going on. He’s our son, I just want to be involved with decisions made.” He explains gently, seemingly calmer now you were talking properly again.

“I know. I just didn’t know what to do because I can’t make decisions without talking to you first, and I can’t call you during surgery. It was like being stuck between a rock and a hard place.” You explain carefully. “I do love you, and I’m sorry I forgot to tell you. I’ll work on that. But there has to be a way that you feel like I am doing the best for your – our – kids whilst taking your thoughts and concerns into consideration. I wouldn’t of kept Malcolm home if it was just a cold. He was throwing up and, although he didn’t have a fever, there was no way he was going to be able to pay attention in class.” Martin hums as you explain the situation. “What if, if something like that happens again, I call your office and leave a message? That way you’ll know before you get home and I won’t interrupt your work?”

Martin thinks over this for a second before nodding. “Seems like a good compromise.” You smile happily. “I love you too, by the way.”

“I know you do.” You yawn once more before settling on his chest.

“You’re sure you’re ok?”

“Yup. Just comfy. And sleepy.”

He laughs quietly as you quickly fall into a slumber in his arms, him following your example merely seconds later, both of you holding each other in your arms.

[hermannsthumb]

Can we have bad boy! Newt loving the shit out of geek! Hermann? Like a grease au?

and this ask i got a liiiiittle while ago…

Anonymous said: Greaser!Newt is so perfect because Hermann is a shy, sensitive sweetheart with a horrible, horrible father, and greaser!Newt is a bad boy rebel with a heart of gold who will rescue Hermann from his terrible father

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ask and ye shall receive…..takin another little study break to write this….. for @newts-geiszler bc i love her and also we were talking about this in our dms earlier……have some “50s but they dont suck” au where newt and hermann are like in community college or something in a Small Town (so grease but not high school lol)

Hermann’s not sure what he did to gain the attentions of someone like Newton Geiszler–to be cursed with the attentions of someone like Newton Geiszler–but for the first time in his life, Hermann is grateful for them. Newton is obnoxious. He’s loud. He’s grimy. He’s tattooed. When he’s not pestering Hermann while they’re meant to be doing lab work, he’s tinkering on that ridiculous motorcycle of his, or he’s terrorizing the streets with it, or he’s screeching along to his guitar, or he’s kicking his muddy boots up on tabletops or tossing his leather jacket over chairs or–generally, making an undesirable nuisance of himself. He’s everything Hermann hates, wrapped up in one convenient scruffy, stocky little package.

More importantly, he’s everything Hermann’s father hates.

Which is why he’s perfect.

Hermann finds Newton lounging at a booth in the back of the diner–boots kicked up like usual, hair slicked back, shirtsleeves rolled up–and staring off into space as he downs a milkshake. When Hermann slams his cane on the linoleum floor and says “Newton,” Newton jumps and chokes on the milkshake and nearly knocks his glass over.

“Hermann?” he says, coughing, and blinking in bewilderment. He scrambles into a proper sitting position and adjusts his thick eyeglasses, as if he can’t believe Hermann’s really standing in front of him. 

“Last week,” Hermann says, “you invited me out to go dancing.” Multiple times, in fact. Hermann can admire his persistence.

Newton adjusts his glasses again. “Uh,” he says. “Yeah. I did.”

Hermann grits his teeth a moment before he continues. “If you’re amenable, and the offer still stands–”

“Yes!” Newton blurts out, face splitting into a wide grin, and–in his excitement–upends a salt shaker into his lap. “I mean,” he says, clumsily picking it up and brushing himself off, “yeah, that’s–” He runs his fingers through his greased hair. A little curl falls forward. He shrugs. “Sure.”

Hermann doesn’t buy Newton’s indifference for one second, but he doesn’t say anything, lets him have his little act. (That morning, Newton was almost begging Hermann to let him carry his books to his next class.) “This Friday,” Hermann says. “Come over to my house at six exactly. We’ll have dinner first.”

Newton’s smile returns, considerably…dopier. “Dinner,” he repeats. “You sure you don’t just wanna come here? I’ll buy you whatever–”

“No,” Hermann says quickly. Newton shuts his mouth. “It has to be my house.”

Newton nods.

“Six exactly, Newton.”

“Should I–” Newton runs his fingers through his hair again, considerably more nervous. “Should I wear something nice? If I’m meeting your folks and all.”

Hermann looks over Newton’s messy hair, his week-old stubble, his crooked (partially broken) eyeglasses, his creased leather jacket, his cuffed and stained jeans, the outrageous ink that swirls over his forearms, the smudges of motor grease on his shirt and neck. Hermann shakes his head and smiles serenely. “No,” he says. “As you are is perfect, Newton.”

“Keen,” Newton says, beaming away back at him.

Hermann has ulterior motives, of course. There are no other circumstances in which he would willingly invite Newton Geiszler into his household. Lately, Hermann’s father has been even more controlling and infuriating than usual, and–it’s juvenile to want revenge, Hermann knows, he’s freshly done with his teenage years, his time for rebellion has come and gone–but Newton’s just the type to get perfectly under Father’s skin. Especially if Father thinks they’re dating. He’ll take one look at Newton’s tattoos and his motorcycle–when Newton shows up half an hour late to their routine five-thirty dinner–and–well–Hermann can’t wait to see his expression.

And it’s not dishonest to Newton. He gets a date with Hermann out of it, something he’s been begging for for months. Years. Since Hermann moved to America and they got paired together as lab partners and Newton took an odd shine to him. He’s doing Newton just as much of a favor, even if he doesn’t remotely intend to put out. (Which is what he’s sure Newton’s after. That’s what all his type��loud, rebellious, swaggering–are only ever after.)

To Hermann’s dismay, on Friday evening Newton shows up on his front porch at five-thirty exactly in significantly less filthy jeans, bearing a bouquet of flowers that he thrusts at Hermann the moment he opens the door. “I’m sorry, man,” he leads with. “I know I’m early–”

“No,” Hermann sighs, and accepts the flowers glumly. They’re beautiful, unfortunately. “You’re right on time, damn you.” Newton didn’t even ride the motorcycle. He just walked.

To Hermann’s further dismay, dinner doesn’t go anywhere nearly as badly as he hoped. It doesn’t go smoothly, not by any means–Father blanches wonderfully when he sees the tattoos and the state of Newton’s hair, and even further when Hermann explains that Newton lives on the other (“bad”) side of town, and things become tense when Newton talks about the possibility of space aliens for five solid minutes and follows it up with a rousing endorsement of socialism–but there’s no yelling, no chairs thrown halfway across the room, no demands that Newton leave the house at once and never return. Newton does not leap from the table and call Father a capitalist fascist pig. He doesn’t talk about his latest dissections in excruciating detail. He deflects all of Hermann’s desperate attempts to ignite one of their usual petty arguments. He doesn’t even put his boots up on the table (and Hermann even made sure to set out the good tablecloth). 

When he and Newton set off, Hermann makes sure, at least, to inform his father he hasn’t the slightest idea of when they’ll be getting home and that they shouldn’t bother waiting up for them, and hopes that the implications of debauchery and Newton ravishing him in the backseat of some car on lover’s lane haven’t gone right over his head. Newton holds tight to Hermann’s arm the entire walk to the dance hall and blabbers on endlessly, about how good dinner was and how he can’t cook “for shit”, how cool the evening’s gotten, some probably-illicit experiments he’s doing in his uncle’s garage, if Hermann saw that new film about the giant insects from outer space (or something along those lines), how excited he is that Hermann finally agreed to go on a date with him, how nice Hermann looks, how handsome he is, how his sweater brings out his eyes, how he hopes he likes the flowers (he grew them himself, in his uncle’s backyard), and not once does he mention how dreadful Hermann’s father is, not once does he try to get fresh with Hermann like Hermann expected, not once does he appear anything less than entirely enthusiastic to simply walk next to Hermann.

Hermann…does not know what to think.

When they reach the dance hall, Hermann finds a spot against the wall on the outskirts where he intends to wait until Newton’s decided he’s had his fill and takes Hermann back home. (Hermann can dance, but it can be difficult and strenuous on his leg, so he prefers not to.) But rather than separating from Hermann immediately to dance and mingle with the rest of the young and stylish and hip (and probably find someone easier to score with than Hermann), Newton follows him and sticks tight at his side. “You don’t have to,” Hermann assures him. “Really, Newton. Go off. Enjoy yourself.”

“I am enjoying myself,” Newton says, smiling. “Anyway, what kind of a lousy date would I be if I ditched you?” He starts swaying along to the music of the band on the stage, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket. “So you really didn’t see Them?”

Hermann shakes his head slowly.

“It’s playing at the drive-in this weekend,” Newton says. “I could take you tomorrow night.” He goes pink. “Only if you want to, I mean.”

Something strange stirs in Hermann’s chest. He evades the question. “On your bike?”

“My old man’ll let me borrow his car,” Newton says. “He knows how I–that you–” He blushes harder. Hermann stares at the floor. “Nevermind. Uh.”

To Hermann’s utter surprise, he has a good time with Newton. Newton’s running commentary on everything from his experiments (which Hermann has decided are absolutely illicit) to the music (which Newton enjoys, even if it is a bit slow) eventually becomes entertaining rather than merely bearable. He fetches Hermann drinks whenever he wants. He keeps complimenting Hermann, too, as he had on the walk over. He even manages to coerce Hermann out onto the dance floor during a particularly slow song, and if Hermann settles his head against Newton’s sturdy chest and allows Newton to wrap his arms round his waist as they sway together, it’s only because it’s the proper way to dance with one’s date.

Newton lends him his jacket for the walk back home, since Hermann looked cold, apparently, and it’s both too-short and too-big at the same time. It smells like Newton, hair grease and sweat and cologne that Newton, earlier, confessed he stole from his father for the night, and Hermann draws it tight around himself as he listens to Newton chat away happily.

Guilt builds steadily in his gut. 

“Did you have fun?” Newton suddenly says. “I had so much fun.”

They’ve reached Hermann’s front gate, and they come to a stop just outside it. He supposes he’ll have to say goodnight to Newton, now. That’s the proper date procedure. Will Newton ask him on another one? Will he try to kiss Hermann? Will he ask to come inside? But Newton does none of those things; he simply stands there, watching Hermann. Waiting for him to make a move. Hermann chews his lip. “Newton,” he says.

“Yeah?” Newton looks so happy, damn him.

“I didn’t–” Hermann taps his finger on the head of his cane nervously. “I haven’t been entirely fair to you. You should know–”

“–that you only asked me out to piss off your old man?” Newton finishes, not losing his smile. “Hermann. I’m not an idiot.”

Hermann supposes he should be embarrassed about being found out that easily, or mortified, or ashamed, or a whole host of other entirely appropriate emotions, but instead he just feels irritated. “If you knew, then why in the hell didn’t you play along?” he exclaims. Newton can pick fights with Hermann every day of the week, but not the one time it really matters. “You were positively civil!” 

“Look, don’t get me wrong,” Newton says, and snorts derisively. “He’s a total fucking square, man, and I would’ve loved to, but–” He shrugs, and grins a little sheepishly. “It was nice pretending that you wanted to be my guy and go dancing with me, even for just a night. I’ve never gone on a date before or anything like that. I really did have fun.”

Hermann’s irritation fades back into guilt, with a healthy dose of embarrassment and mortification and shame this time. “I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I’ve misjudged you very badly, Newton.”

Newton waves his hand. “And I screwed up your plan. We’re even.”

They stare at each other. Hermann’s not sure why he’s not yet opened his front gate–Newton, obviously, does not expect another date, nor a kiss, certainly not an invitation inside. Hermann reaches for the gate. Then he stops, pulls away. “Er,” he says. “There’s that film tomorrow night. The one you like. With the–ah–the insects. We could always…”

He does not finish his proposal, but he does not need to. Newton is beaming, and it’s shy, and sweet, and–it’s hard to tell for certain, in just the moonlight, but–his blush has returned. (Newton is loud, and messy, and obnoxious, but he is also intelligent, and funny, and very, very good-looking.) “I’ll lay on the horn for five minutes when I pick you up,” Newton says. “Stomp through your front garden, too. I’ll be a regular delinquent, Hermann, your old man’ll be forbidding you to see me by next Tuesday.” 

The thought excites Hermann more than he anticipated–Newton, the no-good town delinquent, stealing away with Hermann for what can only be scandalous purposes. “I don’t doubt it,” Hermann says. He casts a glance up at his house, and the houses surrounding; all the lights are turned off, meaning everyone’s likely turned in for the night, but… “Kissing me goodnight in full view of the neighbors certainly wouldn’t help our case.”

“Oh,” Newton squeaks, and then he agrees, very enthusiastically.

[jenosweave]

college!kun

FINALLY A KUN REQUEST!! this is one of my favorites please enjoy and don’t let me flop!!

let’s start w the basics…

major: linguistics

minor: comparative literature

extracurriculars: book club

other: literally writing his own novel??

school life

kun is such a good student

he always does his work on time and tries to get ahead when he can

he’s a plug too

he'll even do his friends’ readings and summarize it for them if they have a particularly busy week

he doesn’t allow himself to be used though

he just loves and appreciates his friends so much and wants to help them be successful when there are things they cant control that can get in the way of that

kun really enjoys his studies

his required courses are really stimulating and keep him on his toes

he loves leaving class every day feeling like he’s one step closer to understanding where language comes from and why we communicate the way we do

kun’s passion for linguistics sprouted from his adoration of reading

he’s a member of every book he could find on campus

he firmly believes the more you read, the more perspectives you’re able to see, which in turn, makes you a generally more enlightened and compassionate person

kun loves reading and language so much that he decided to just write his own book over the summer for fun

he sent a “very rough draft” to a local publisher

just for experience

and to get him used to rejection in case he ever wants to seriously pursue a career in writing someday

but now he’s fucked because

they actually liked it??? so he kind of has a book deal now??

which he was not expecting at all

there were a lot of comments for him to address as he expected

and the first one he decided to deal with was the lack of a love interest for his protagonist

except there’s only one problem with that

he has no idea how to successfully write for a love interest

so he does what any normal young writer would do to get inspiration

and goes to the university’s monthly speed dating event in the quad

early stages

you had been “too single for too long,” according to your best friend

and the only way you could get them to shut up about it was if you attended one of the school’s speed dating nights

and you decided it was worth the trouble, and made your way to the quad to get this over with

you had exactly two and a half minutes with every person you’d “date”

and for the most part, those two and a half minutes couldn’t go by fast enough

after talking to other students who only cared about football, trucks, and battlestar galactica, you were about ready to up and go

but your second to last “date” changed your mind

his name was kun

“alright this is gonna go by quick, so i’m gonna take the reigns if you don’t mind,” he spoke

he was oddly productive

you nodded

“great!’ he smiled. “any hobbies?”

“well, i love to read an-”

“reading? me too! what genres are you into?”

a wide smile stretched across his smooth face and his pupils dilated noticeably UGH CUTIE

“i mean, i like fantasy, historical fiction, biographies, science fi-”

“no way! me too!” he interrupts. “i just like all books so much!! i’m writing my own actually!”

you thought that was mighty impressive and asked him what his book is about

and he told you he can’t disclose that information because of his publishing deal

and youre like,,,, wA i T.. PUBLISHER?? THAT’S SO COOL!!

and he goes, “thank you! maybe you’d like to come and read it sometime when it’s finished.”

you couldn’t help but blush and turn your head away

and that’s when you noticed you only had ten seconds left on the stopwatch

you hurriedly seized the pen the event organizers had left on the desk and grabbed kun by the wrist, taking him by surprise and causing a slight gasp to escape his lips

you messily scribbled your number onto his forearm

and as soon as you had finished writing your digits, the timer rang

as you both departed from the table, kun shouted at you from a distance “how am i supposed to read this chicken scratch?!”

you shot him a smile playfully and shouted back

“text me!”

you didn’t receive a text that night

or the night after

but the night after that, your phone dinged as soon as you hopped out of the shower

“hey! this is kun from the speed dating thing. i hope this is the right number. i’ve already texted three wrong people and have had to explain myself to each of them. it’s really embarrassing. please confirm if this is you!”

you sent him a simple “:)” in response

“so does that mean you’re down to get a coffee with me tomorrow?”

“:)”

the next morning, you had the first of many, many morning coffee breaks outside the school library

these quick little meetups usually concluded with a quick sift through the library, where you’d each recommend each other your favorite books and read the prologues to each other over a hot cup of coffee

at first, the librarians used to kick you out for having drinks inside, but now youre clever and just hide your cups under your jackets

this became a weekly occurrence

and then it started happening twice a week

and now you basically see kun every other day

he even managed to get you to join the biographical book club with him, something you’d be way too nervous to do before meeting him

kun was such a good guy

you knew he was smart and funny and you knew he was caring and fun to be around

but what you didn’t know is that he had been smitten with you from the second you scribbled your number onto his arm

one day, as you were studying for your last final of the semester, you got a call from kun

you sent him the automated response, “sorry, i cant talk right now”

but he called right back anyway

“what is it?” you answered

“i’m sorry if you’re studying but this is super important and im so excited and i just have to tell someone!”

“what’s up kun?”

“my book! it’s finished! and i finally added in the love interest like the publishers asked!”

“I’M SO PROUD OF YOU BITCH

“finish studying! then we can facetime and i can read you a chapter!”

and so for the next thirty nights (even over your winter break), you and kun would facetime so he could read you a chapter until the book was finished

and you’d give him pointers at the end of each one so he could go back and revise once you had gone to sleep

the plot was incredible, honestly

the protagonist was a divorced middle-aged man whose wife left him for being too aggressive and absent-minded all the time

in the divorce, the wife got full custody of their teenage son

but when she goes on a business trip, the protagonist gets to watch the son

however, when he goes to pick the son up to take him to his house, hes nowhere to be found

so the novel follows this poor guy trying to find his missing son

but no one seems to be listening to him, so hes losing his mind

he’s working alongside the police and falls for the dci leading the investigation

and basically in the end it turns out he’s schizophrenic and his wife and son never existed at all

all of this was in his imagination

and he had just been showing up to the police station every day like a crazy person

kun did so much research for that

he even got the accuracy of his portrayal of a schizophrenic checked by his pal psych major!jungwoo

on the night kun finally finished reading to you

you were sh0000000000000k like what the fuck all that trouble for it all to be fake?? genius kun!!

so he asked for your feedback on the development and personalities of all his characters

you complimented him on how well he portrayed the dci

they weren’t your typical love interest

they were headstrong and witty and educated

and they were determined to help the protagonist find his son when no one else was listening to him

“you like them?” he asked you

“yes! they were so different than i had expe-”

“i was hoping you’d like them. i was inspired by you.”

your heart BURST!!!

“KUN THAT’S SO SWEET!”

and that’s when he explained to you why he went to speed dating to begin with, and told you he was so glad to have met you

because you were the “perfect muse”

and then he asked if you’d like to be his s/o

and of course

you said yes bc duh?? he’s kun?? 

relationship

kun is the cutest bf ever!!!

nothing has really changed between you two

you still have library and car dates

but now you hold hands sometimes

and when kun is feeling extra bold, he gives you a peck on the cheek

you guys have such a cute and innocent relationship

you can often be seen together on the campus quad where you met for the first time, you in kuns arms, him tickling your stomach to make you giggle

he’s so sweet and is so considerate of your needs

out of all the boys, he’s hands down the one most likely to change for you if you guys hit a rough patch

he always pays for food

which kind of ticks you off because what if one day he goes broke

but all he really cares about is your happiness and satisfaction

and he really just wants you to know that no one loves you quite like he does

and he tells you every day how grateful he is to have you in his life

[sarinataylor]

Reverse blind date Joger where someone deliberately stands Roger up to teach him a lesson because he is such a player and John watching from the bar realises he is upset

oooooh ok. ok. ok

so roger is like. he’s got a rep around campus? it’s not necessarily a bad one per say, but. he’s pretty and he’s confident and yeah, he dates a lot. bc roger is a secret romantic tbh ok

not like freddie’s a romantic though. like freddie wants to fall in love and then never ever ever break up with the person he falls in love with because he wants to buy a house and forty cats with them. like freddie genuinely believes he’s incomplete without someone to love and be loved by in return which roger thinks is Super Unhealthy

so roger’s not romantic like that. roger just…. enjoys the excitement of  first date? getting to know someone, letting them get to know you, enjoying those first flushes of could-be-love. roger even somewhat likes when things start to fall apart bc there’s beauty in that too. there’s something beautiful in being able to recognise that you’re not right for another.

so he dates a lot. which, again, isn’t a bad thing. he doesn’t date for the sake of dating? he just. if there’s someone he finds interesting or attractive or funny? he’ll ask them out. 

(this is how he met brian who awkwardly agreed and then blurted out half way through dinner that he was straight, he just didn’t know how to say no. they stay for the whole meal and end up somehow being like… best friends by the end of it.)

(a lot of roger’s friends are people he’s dated in the past, actually)

but yanno for every sort of ex that you’re on good terms with there’s gonna be someone you’re. decidedly not. and ok, rog will be the first? (maybe second actually, freddie will generally be the first) to admit that he’s sometimes not the most….. tactful at breaking off some of the more casual dating he does

like he doesnt ghost on actual relationships but there’s…. there’s definitely some ghosting that’s gone down in the past. some very early cases where he wasnt very clear on the non-exclusive nature of the dating??? 

he was young(er) and stupid okay he has like. a comprehensive set of rules now (a. establish that dates are not exclusive unless explicitly discussed, as all major relationship developments should be. b. no fucking the people you date unless you’re interested in an Actual Relationship bc it blurs lines!!!!! it confuses ppl!!!!!! c. if someone has a rep as a clinger listen to that reputation instead of their insightful analysis in class. the reputation precedes interesting dinner conversation. every. time.)

(brian is like???? have u heard YOUR reputation???? and roger is like well yeah but. no one calls me clingy, do they? which brian has to concede that, no, they decidedly do not.)

BUT the important thing to note here is that roger dates a lot of people because he genuinely enjoys dating people, he enjoys getting to know people. he asks out people who he finds interesting for some reason or another. he’s not offended when people say no, like. that’s fine. 

but yeah. he gets stood up. 

which? it’s like. the first time it’s ever happened. and it’s embarrassing. like, if they weren’t interested he would have preferred they just said. but it’s fine? like. he’ll just. eat on his own. that’s fine, he’s not too bothered though he does wish that they’d like. messaged him to let him know they were standing him up so he could have ordered earlier instead of waiting half an hour

but then they Do message him. a catty message along the lines of “now you know how it feels to be let down. maybe you’ll think before you do it to someone else again” and That upsets him because… he’s never stood anyone up???? would never intentionally leave someone waiting????? and he’s Grown Up since his first year of uni where he ghosted people like. he’s really upfront nowadays but he just sort of. starts spiralling a little bit sat at the table gulping down red wine like???? fuck???????

a fun mix of anger that this was clearly something this person PLANNED and also anxiety that maybe he’s been doing this to people this whole time and he just never noticed???? he’s an Awful Person and he just. didn’t know. 

(which like. the sheer amount of his ex-dates, ex-fucks, and straight up exes that are still friends with him sort of implies that this is not the case? one of his exes is getting married in six months and he’s one of the groomsmen somehow like.)

and JOHN is sitting at the bar. like he’s waiting for his roommate to finish her shift so they can head home together but her shift’s been extended so he’s just. hanging out. eating complimentary bar nuts and being slipped sneaky beers by the on floor manager. and he’d noticed roger walk in, roger had ta’d one of his classes a year or so back and he knows his rep, and he’d sort of been looking forward to watching The Master At Work

like. he was gonna take notes so that he and ronnie (roommate, obvs) could laugh about it when they got home

(roger totally asked ronnie out once. she didn’t even answer, just walked away. she was annoyed at how charming the sound of him laughing as she did so was. she sort of hates him that “he’s never done anything to me and everyone i know who knows him says he’s a nice bloke BUT I REFUSE TO BELIEVE IT” kind of way)

but uh. yeah. he’s been stood up. 

and john’s like….. damn. like, he wouldn’t even stand roger taylor up. he’s always been kind of glad that roger’s never asked him out, and never will bc…. he’s p boring and not like ronnie or brian or anyone else roger’s dated, bc he knows he’d say yes and then ronnie would never let him live it down. not ever. 

and like he seems to be rolling with it? he orders himself a bottle of wine and an appetiser which has john like Damn the man be RICH

(the man be decidedly NOT rich and is definitely not going to be able to pay for the bus for the next week now he’s spending his “extra” money on bottles of wine rather than the glass or two he had planned to buy. but whatever, he can walk it. not to mention splurging on the bread platter instead of the bruschetta. he’s been stood up, okay??? if there was ever a time to eat All Of The Carbs and wash it down with two bottles of wine, this would be it)

and then after like one glass? of wine? he just seems to sort of curl in on himself???? and he seems genuinely upset???? like he’s tapping sort of frantically on his phone and he didnt even say thank you to the waiter who brought over his Bread Palooza and john doesnt know him well but. he never seemed the kind of guy who wouldnt thank wait staff okay?????

and before he can even stop himself he’s trailing over there, bar nuts in hand, and awkwardly standing next to the table silently. 

and roger is like distractedly not even looking up from stuffing bread into his mouth and texting freddie who isn’t responding which means, he guesses, that he didn’t get stood up on his date tonight. bully for him. so roger’s like yeah thanks mate not ready to order my main yet. 

and john’s like…. uh. ok. and just thrusts the bar nuts he’s had in his hand for like. ten minutes under his nose like you look sad, do you want a nut?

and roger looks up and just sort of blinks at him for a long moment before bursting out laughing like yes yes i would like a nut, thanks, john

which has john flustered bc a) he’s a MORON oh my god “do you want a nut”??????? what is he????? he wants to DIE and also b) roger. remembers his name?????????

so john stammers out an apology, explains he’s waiting for ronnie (”ronnie…. oh, uh, you probably don’t remember who she is, she’s-” – “your roommate, right? i forgot she was a waitress here, actually. how is she?” – “….. she’s good. sorry, how do you know she’s my roommate?”)

which leads to roger inviting him to sit down as a family of four tries to move past him, but can’t because he’s making a bottleneck in the aisle

so john. sits. bar nuts still in hand. 

(knees weak, hands sweaty, restaurant’s bar nuts. would the real slim shady please stand up?)

and roger’s just hella casual like “yeah just got stood up bc im an awful person, how u been”

and john’s like uh technically i asked for none of that information 

and the waiter comes and interrupts as roger sort of just blinks at him bc john is Not The Best at unplanned social interaction. like john approached him??? but ok. and the waiter is like um? hi john? given up on waiting for ronnie to finish?

as roger slam dunks his last glass of wine 

and john is sort of like ohw ell. this guy used to be my ta and he looked sad because he’s been stood u- oh my god, im so sorry

and roger is just. you know what? this has been fun. i’ve really enjoyed the multiple levels of abject humiliation that i have endured tonight but i think i’m going to cut it short and just chucks  thirty quid on the table like thanks (to the waiter) and good luck with the, uh, engineering? degree, i think? (to john)

who is bewildered bc how the fuck does he remember what degree im doing from the round of fucking ice breakers we did in the first tutorial of a class i took LAST YEAR 

(roger’s party trick is remembering like. everything about ppl. you know in that way that really popular people have where somehow they can remember that your second cousin twice removed got married three years back, despite not seeing you since a month before the wedding, and they’re asking how it was using the NAMES of the bride and groom (who. they’ve never met) and you’re like??????? i fuckin forgot the grooms name what the FUCK. i hate these people with a passion. nice people? the worst. john feels much the same as i do)

and before he can even say anything roger has just…. slunk off into the night. leaving him with the waiter who is quite happy about the ten pound tip, and a hand full of bar nuts. 

anyway roger goes home to cry at brian who is like. ur not a bad person, people just….. come to conclusions about ur behaviour based on the exaggerated experiences of others. but u also WERE sort of a dick when u were 18, but so is…. like every 18 year old so i honestly just wouldn’t torture myself ab it so neither should u

(a boldfaced LIE. this conversation leads brian to spend the entire night staring at his ceiling and reliving that one time he forgot to say thanks to the bus driver when he was 16. the bus driver hates him, he knows. also he used to have super unacknowledged misogynistic and racist unconscious biases that had been pounded into him by society and he’s still trying to rectify that and????? oh GOD)

 and the next day, after he’s been convinced that he’s not the scum of the earth by brian, he rocks up outside of john’s class (which he abuses his access to the university database for the first and last time to find – he also tells john he did this immediately bc he’s like SO I PROBABLY CROSSED A BOUNDARY BUT IT WAS THIS OR STALK RONNIE AT WORK UNTIL SHE GAVE IN AND I THINK THAT WOMAN HATES ME i see her glaring all the time and idk why) and totally asks him out because…. well, he was interesting, wasn’t he?