#Andrew just looking on like yeah I still think he's hot and sighing to himself

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 29

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“Neil, why do you have Smith’s phone?” Andrew asks as the two of them are setting out plates for lunch. Neil startled and looked down at the phone that he had just sat at the table and furrowed his brow.

“What do you mean? This is mine?” Neil asks. He knows his phone even if he’s not really the best with them.

The one that Andrew had given him his Freshman year had died after it got run over by the Maserati when Neil left it on the roof of the car by accident. The second one Andrew had gotten him had been destroyed in rather spectacular fashion earlier in the year when he’d had a bit of a freak out on January 19th. The team knew better than to text him on that particular day now but Andrew had said that he’d take custody of his phone this year. Wymack had stepped in with a phone that same day before Andrew could buy him a new one and that phone had been launched at the Baseball captain that summer.

All this to say, Neil is now looking at the phone in concern because it is highly likely he swapped his with FF’s.

“No it’s not.” Andrew sighs and points to a corner, “You cracked yours up here.” He opens the phone and then the contacts and sure enough Neil doesn’t see his own contacts but the ones that Nicky had programmed into FF’s the day before.

“Oh, I guess I switched them at the hospital.” He says with an embarrassed blush. Maybe he should get a little accessory to differentiate his phone from the other ones that Wymack has gotten.

There’s a slight commotion in the kitchen, “Kevin, stop trying to add vanilla protein powder to Smithy’s soup!” Nicky shouts.

“He needs protein to heal properly! That nutritionist might just feed him a loaf of bread since he is using an outdated model!” Kevin argues back.

“Kevin the doctor said clear soup also do you want to make Smiths sick? Vanilla protein powder and chicken broth?” Aaron asks disgust evident.

“I’d use unflavored but this is all that’s in the house and I am not going shopping until this weekend is over.” Kevin argues back.

“Smiths went out shopping on Black Friday and came back unscathed. He even went out into the worst of it just to get some groceries for baking and breakfast.” Aaron says with a huff.

“He still got stabbed!” Kevin returns.

“Kevin, he was definitely not grocery shopping when he got stabbed.” Nicky shoots back.

“He needs-“

“Przywiążę cię do krzesła.” Neil hears Smith’s Grandma cut Kevin off. Her tone is so sweet just like it has been the last couple times she has interrupted an argument between them all. She really has warmed up to them since Andrew confessed.

Nicky lets out a loud bark of laughter.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asks.

“Yeah, cutting onions make me laugh.” Nicky returns quickly.

Kevin walks out of the Kitchen with the same gooey expression he’s gotten every time Smith’s Grandma has said something sweet to him but considering how often and how hard Nicky laughs at what she says he wonders if she’s just sassing him in a sweet tone.

He really needs to pick up a phrase book.

He might like her even more if his theory is correct.

“It shouldn’t be a big problem.” Neil says but he is a bit more careful as he moves FF’s phone away from where it could get damaged. “Smith is definitely asleep. He looked really tired.” Neil says and it twists his own stomach to think about how FF looked in his hospital bed. FF wouldn’t take anything more than the bare minimum when it came to pain medication.

Each “I’m fine.” He gave had him coming to a deeper and deeper understanding of how frustrating it is to have someone who is CLEARLY not fine say they are.

“I’m more concerned about who might text you.” Andrew says.

Neil shrugs, “Ichirou is more the type to just show up.” Because it’s true. Every time he’s met Ichirou there had been very little warning.

Andrew frowns but then Nicky is coming out with lunch. It was nothing fancy but a home cooked meal always made Neil feel warm. Smith’s grandma had just been using what was in their pantry so far but the two other meals (and her pie) had been amazing.

“Lunch is ready. We’ll head back to the hospital afterwards to see when Smithy can get discharged.” Nicky says putting a large bowl of pasta in the center of the table. Aaron came out a moment later with the Parmesan shaker and the protein powder bottle.

“Here you go Kevin, add as much as you want to your own meal.” Aaron says in a sweet tone just like Smith’s Grandma.

“Eat shit Aaron.” Kevin scowls now knocked out of his gooey expression as fills his plate with pasta and reaches for the Parmesan.

Neil can’t help but let out a puff of laughter at the interaction and lets the worry of being away from his phone slide away. FF was sleeping, he was safe, and Ichirou had not expressed any interest in talking to him.

“Pass that to me when you’re done.” Neil asks pointing at the Parmesan as he fills his and Andrew’s plates.

***

There had been a plan.

Nathaniel Wesninski was supposed to be at this hospital at least according to his cell phone location. His future investment was not the best at keeping that device on him though so he was willing to wait when there were no signs of the Wesninski. There would, of course, be a cost for his patience. He had his men go seek out the uninvolved civilian. If Wesninski came back and found his friend threatened due to his lackadaisical nature with his phone perhaps he’d remember to keep it on him.

Except now that very uninvolved civilian is sitting in front of him. The ’Smith’ that Wesninski had spoken of.

He sees Wesninski’s phone sat on the table and his eyes go back to the young man in front of him. He wonders if this was some ploy by Wesninski, some statement. This young man in front of him took out one of the Butcher’s top men on his own.

He’d confirmed it when he’d gone to see Jackson earlier that day. He went to remind them what would happen if they tried to turn over anything to the Federal agents and to see how two of his biggest headaches had been taken out so suddenly.

Jackson talked about how Wesninski’s friend hadn’t seemed surprised to find him in the alley, had seemed like he had been expecting it and how swiftly he had been taken out. Wesninski’s guard dog had gone out afterwards and they’d lead Romero into a trap that resulted in his arrest and this civilian swearing up and down that Romero was the one that stabbed him even though Romero asserts that he never had a firm grip on the knife.

A great way to ensure he was held by the police while they were fully investigated. They wouldn’t have much time to investigate either of the Butcher’s remnants. Ichirou was only offering the choice between something painful or something easy.

The young man in front of him offered nothing, waiting for Ichirou to begin the talks. His expression clearly showing that he’d happily wait Ichirou out as if he was long used to tense silences. There is no doubt that this man in front of him knows exactly who he is but he still has the audacity to wait him out.

“Where is Wesninski?” He tightens his fist at having to ask first.

“That’s not Captain Neil’s last name anymore.” FF returns with the first hint of expression on his face being a frown.

The first piece of information given. So, loyal to Nathaniel and not to the Wesninski line. Loyal to Captain Neil.

“Captain Neil is getting lunch.” He answers, “I’m the only one here for you to talk to right now.” He adds after a moment putting his hands on the table.

Ichirou can understand what isn’t being said.

“Does, Josten, realize you’re here?” He asks taking care to use Wesninski’s new last name knowing he wouldn’t get his answers otherwise. He has a hard time imagining the man who was so loyal to his friends purposefully leaving this one to act as defense for him.

Wesninski had been very clear during his brief phone conversation with him, “Smith was just caught up in all of this. He’s not a threat to you Lord Moriyama.” He had said voice steady and without a hint of a lie.

“In the hospital? Of course.” He returns, “Down here talking to you? He’ll probably be upset.” he says after a moment.

“And yet, you’re here.” He says mirroring the man’s own relaxed posture.

Loyal but willing to do something that might displease the one he is loyal to if it would keep them safe. Ichirou stops himself from looking to his left where his most loyal man stood. Connor had stepped in front of threats he hadn’t seen coming plenty of times, had questioned him even when Ichirou had threatened to cut out his tongue for it, and had always had the courage to look Ichirou in the eye when he explained himself no matter how injured he was or how irate Ichirou was.

It’s something rare and it seems like it is something Wesninski has found unknowingly.

“Yes, I’m here to talk about Friday night.” He says, “I assume you’ve already spoken with Romero and Jackson.” He says moving the conversation away from Wesninski. Bringing Ichirou’s attention and possible ire to himself.

A truly rare find in his world.

“Yes, let’s talk about Friday night.” He agrees.

***

What was it about the Smith family and making great food?

It was just a simple combination of canned tomatoes, butter, pasta, onions, cheese, spices and garlic but it had Neil going for a third serving. Smith’s Grandma had really made enough to feed an army and when he’d commented Nicky had just reached over and tried to pinch his cheek fat only for his fingers to find little to grab onto, “You’re too thin! Eat more!” He exclaimed before repeating it to Smith’s Grandma in Polish who nodded earnestly.

Wymack was at the table after he took a shower. Kevin was still trying to convince Aaron of all people that he should be allowed to put protein powder into the clear soup that was simmering on the stove top for FF. The dietary restrictions someone faced while they were healing from stomach surgery was no joke.

The other Dealer had dropped despite Wymack and Neil’s best attempts to get Lisa to stay. Seemed determined to head back to her small town and rejoin the family cult she had escaped from. He’d been worried about her going home but she had insisted she’d be back.

It was unfortunate but it was also Lisa’s choice.

His stomach twists wondering if FF is going to go back to Washington with his Grandma when he gets released. There had barely been a whisper of danger from Neil’s past since Ichirou had put that bullet in Riko’s head and now one of his few friends that had been entirely uninvolved in that nightmare was in the hospital because of him.

Andrew elbows him.

Neil turns to look and Andrew is carefully putting a penne pasta on each prong of his fork, “I can hear you worrying.” He says in Russian.

“What if Smith leaves?” He responds back in the same language.

“He has the right to.” Andrew shrugs and shoves the pasta into his mouth.

“I don’t want him to.” Neil admits, FF is a friend. A good friend.

“He still can leave even if you don’t want him to.” Andrew says as he proceeds to once again put a penne pasta on each of his fork’s prongs. “I don’t think he will though.” He adds before shoving his fork into his mouth again.

Neil blinks, “Why?” He asks.

FF isn’t like how Neil was his Freshman year, he’s steady and sure but Neil wouldn’t blame the Freshman if ‘possibly being killed off by remnants of my Captain’s crime family’ is a step too far for FF. Wouldn’t blame FF if he runs.

“He still calls you Captain Neil.” He says reaching over and squeezing Neil’s knee with his hand.

Neil blinks.

He thinks.

FF laid out on the concrete as Andrew worked to stem the blood from his stab wound, “It’s a weird sex alley Captain Neil! I don’t know WHAT to tell you!” He exclaims ready to make a joke even as he’s bleeding because of a situation Neil’s existence put him in.

FF still floating from the initial large amount of pain medication he was on pulling on Neil’s sleeve, “I’m glad you’re okay Captain Neil.” Before falling back into his drugged sleep.

FF’s eyes softening as Neil offered to get a nurse to give him more pain medication, “Really Captain Neil, I’m fine.” He says.

He lays his own hand over Andrew’s.

“I guess he does.” He offers a small tentative smile.

“Eat your pasta Junkie.” Andrew says in English now.

“You’re too thin!” Nicky reminds him and Smith’s Grandma must have picked up on the terminology since she nods earnestly in agreement as the two of them were packing up leftovers and the soup Smith’s Grandma had made for him so they could head back to the hospital to keep FF company.

***

“Why did you go out into the alley?” Ichirou asks.

“Isn’t it better that I was in the alley?” The man across from him asks with a raised brow, as if Ichirou was asking a strange question. “If I had stayed in the club, who knows what would have happened or how many people would have been hurt.” He explains without Ichirou needing to lower himself to asking.

There’s truth to that.

It’s been on the news that the remaining Wesninski inner-circle had been captured but since there’d only been one injury it had been largely overshadowed by news regarding the mass injury incidents surrounding Black Friday. If Romero had started had gotten the general public involved this would be much harder for him to silence the ones involved.

Still…

“This has caused me quite a bit of trouble. It does not look good that I am not the one who found them.” He says because there’d been talks from some of the old men he had yet to rid himself of from his Father’s time. They had wanted the remaining Wesninski men to be brought back into the fold but there was little chance of that happening now. Ichirou planned on disposing them after showing that they were worthless and using it as an excuse to start removing some of the dead weight from his father’s time.

Ichirou was not a man who tolerated incompetence.

“Isn’t it better that they were taken into custody like this?” The man across from him asks, “They were some of the Butcher’s best from what Captain Neil has told me. The fact that it only resulted in me going to the hospital and they were taken out by Andrew and I is one of the better outcomes.” He says.

Ichirou pauses and considers it.

The two men that those relics had wanted for their ‘competence’ and ‘ability’ had been taken out in a way that showcased what Ichirou had thought of them. They were sloppy, they were over-confident, and worst of all they were incompetent.

“Before I forget.” Smith says and his hand goes to the bulge in his jacket pocket.

Ichirou can feel Conner tense behind him and he wonders where this had gone wrong or how the conversation had broken down but he doesn’t have long to wonder about it as Smith pulled something out that was unmistakable as a toy with it’s bright yellow coloring. Smith sets it on the table between them and Ichirou cannot help the confusion that must show on his face despite his many years of training to keep his face blank.

“What is that?” Conner asks sounding utterly bewildered behind him.

“I used this to temporarily blind Jackson during our fight. I figure it would be useful evidence for you.” Smith says.

He hears a bark of laughter to his right as Michael reaches for the toy.

Useful evidence indeed.

It would be easy to show this as a sign that those relics could hardly be trusted to have an opinion in how he ran his empire. Those men they so prized taken out by a children’s toy.

This has gone to his benefit.

“So it would seem.” He finally says, “I will make sure to reward your assistance.” He says wanting a stronger hold over the man in front of him, a tie of some sort to the Moriyama family.

Smith shakes his head in the negative. “I didn’t do anything noteworthy. Whatever it is should go to Captain Neil.” He argues.

Rare find indeed.

“It will be done.” He says and figures with the additional cash flow eliminating the search for the Wesninski men, the removal of his father’s hanger-ons, and the blood he can squeeze from the family Romero and Jackson had intended to go to ( a supposedly allied family) he could more than afford to drop what his three Exy investments owed him as a percent.

His eyes shift over to Smith across from him and finds that he was even more willing to lower those percentages if he could not only drop the dead weight of his father’s empire but perhaps gain someone useful. “Still, I like to reward those who have directly benefitted me. We will take care of any and all hospital fees related to this incident.” He looks to his right and Michael nods.

Smith’s face doesn’t give much away, his pokerface was quite exceptional.

“Thank you." He accepts and says nothing else so Ichirou decides to make his offer.

“I have heard that you are studying languages.” He says.

“I am.” Smith says.

“Which ones do you know?” He asks.

Smith blinks, surprised by the question, “Fluently? French, German, Spanish, Polish, Dutch, Italian, R-“ he pauses and shakes his head, “Recently, I’ve been studying Japanese, Chinese, and some Korean.” He says strangely stumbling over a word for the first time this entire conversation.

A useful skill.

“If you ever find yourself looking for work,” Ichirou snaps his fingers and Conner had a card in his hand in an instant, consider reaching out.” He says before he offers it with both hands and is pleased when Smith accepts it with a slight bow before taking it with both hands. “I see you are also studying the etiquette.” He adds.

Smith looks up from the business card and he looks paler but Ichirou chalks it up to the fact that bowing slightly with his current stomach status likely hurt far more than he had let on. “If you don’t know the etiquette you only know half of the language.” He says and Ichirou quite likes the sentiment.

“Tell Josten that I no longer need to speak with him. Our conversation was satisfactory.” Ichirou says as he rises to his feet.

“I will do that…Lord Moriyama.” Smith says bowing his head politely.

***

The sight of Ichirou Moriyama was always going to be one that made Neil nervous.

The only good thing about seeing him right now was that Kevin had gone with Coach and Aaron in a separate car so that the two of them could continue their argument about protein powder in FF’s soup and Andrew had snagged a spot up front while Coach would have to park farther back.

“Lord Moriyama, I did not expect to see you here.” He greets head down and he almost goes to his knees if it wouldn’t have attracted the sort of attention that Ichirou hated from the public. He just hopes that Andrew isn’t scowling and that Nicky and Smith’s Grandma can keep quiet.

“Perhaps if you kept your phone with you then my appearance would not be such a surprise.” Ichirou comments idly, “Though I suppose I did have a very beneficial conversation with Smith. Quite a bright young man you have as a friend.” He compliments and Neil’s head shoots up in surprise at it.

Ichirou had spoken with FF.

FF who was fading in and out of consciousness.

“I have faith that he will not reveal anything.” Ichirou adds and Neil clenches his fist and wants desperately to ask what happened. Wants to know what state he’s going to find his friend in. “I have not done anything to harm him, you are lucky to have a…friend like that.” Ichirou says as if physical damage was the only thing that Ichirou Moriyama was capable of.

“Yes Lord Moriyama, he is a very talented and skilled defenseman.” He says hoping that if nothing else Ichirou’s desire for Neil and Kevin’s future profitability would have him reconsider doing anything in the future to FF to ensure they would have good showings for the professional teams.

“Yes, he was quite talented in your defense.” Ichirou nods, “I will reach out with details of our new deal once some affairs have settled. Take care of your friend, Josten.” Ichirou says before continuing out of the hospital.

New Deal?

Neil banished the thought from his head. They needed to get up to FF’s room and he needed to make sure his friend was okay and find out what exactly had happened.

Andrew’s hand came to the back of his neck and squeezed, “Calm down.” Andrew ordered voice soothingly blank even if Neil could feel the way his grip stuttered. “Let’s go.”

***

The Nurses were saying something about ‘aggravating stitches’ and ‘lucky nothing tore’ but it was all white noise to FF as he continues to think about the business card burning a hole in his pocket.

Ichirou Moriyama.

He’d just had an entire conversation with Ichirou Moriyama.

His stomach was already hurting from his ill advised walk but the moment he’d seen that name on the business card he had accepted his insides had been pure acid. He missed his Pepto Bismol more than anything right now, what he would give for just a single hit of the sweet pink relief.

He couldn’t figure out what was worse.

The fact that he had given over EVIDENCE to the head of a Yakuza group (was it a yakuza group or was it a mafia group?).

The fact that he’d been right in his thoughts from the abyss that the man in the cafeteria looked like a Yakuza member (was it a Yakuza or Mafia?).

The fact that he’d just seen a Japanese guy and thought ‘Oh, must be the Japanese FBI guy I’m supposed to talk to’ which means he’d still been kind of racist.

The fact that he just realized that he had Captain Neil’s phone and not his own meaning that Ichirou had been telling Captain Neil to come to the cafeteria and FF just showed up like a dipshit trying to pitch their lie about the alley.

Finally there was the fact that Ichirou Moriyama had apparently been impressed enough to offer him a spot within his Yakuza group (Yakuza or Mafia?)

Would it be weird to ask during the interview process? Is there an interview process to join organized crime? Do they have benefits? Wait a crime family is paying for his hospital stay right now. This is too much.

He considers asking the nurse to yes please crank up the pain killers and just let him slip into a nice not embarrassing coma but then Captain Neil and Andrew were rushing into his room. “Smith!” Captain Neil exclaims.

Well, too late to ask for that coma.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

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The  requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few  different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I  promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be  something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

If you didn’t get notified on the last part it’s probably because I used tumblr mobile to post and our most beloved garbage fire site just didn’t like that.

Polish in this chapter:

Przywiążę cię do krzesła = I will tie you to a chair

#Fluent Freshman AU #MAN that was a long one #Also just like having to build that misunderstanding took forever #I need a nap #which is to say that I'm going to bed since it's 2 AM #Not pictured is Michael pointing the McDonald's Happy Meal Toy at Conner and pulling the trigger #And Conner going Shit that's bright #And Michael now has to drive the car #The Moriyama men who were looking for Smith absolutely got a talking to #Like a man of THAT caliber got within spitting distance of Lord Moriyama? Unacceptable #Just be grateful he wanted to TALK. #Also not pictured is Kevin and Aaron continuing that argument in the car as Kevin tries to rope Aaron in #to making the perfect protein supplement for Smith's recovery #Kevin is thankfully so focused on this that he just flat out misses that they parked like four cars away from where Ichirou Moriyama is #Neil may Velcro his phone to him now. #Man can you imagine Neil having his Josten Jorts(tm) and he's added a velcro strip to all of them #Andrew just looking on like yeah I still think he's hot and sighing to himself #This is where you've laid your affections Andrew #DEAL WITH IT #Alright it's like 2:20 AM after doing the tags and @-ing everybody #AFTG #AFTG AU #AFTG OC #Andreil #FF - Pt. 29

[dom-i-nate]

Coming Clean | Nate and Danny

Who: Nate Mantle and Danny Andrews @domdannyandrews Where: Danny's suite When: Morning, 03.23 Notes: Nate admits to using and cheating. TW: addiction, drug mentions, mentions of physical abuse, cheating

The night before had been... something. He certainly hadn't expected to get a text like that from his brother of all people - and his heart nearly stopped when he realized Nate was involved. Both of his best guys in trouble with the cops? Luckily Danny had been able to get them both home, though he wished he had fought harder for Noah to stay. Nate wasn't really in any state to talk, and it was obvious something else had gone down considering he could smell the booze on his boyfriend. So after a sleepless night, Danny slipped out of bed, curling onto the couch in his living room with a hot coffee as he waited for Nate to wake up. He wasn't angry at his boyfriend for slipping up. If his dad was the reason, he understood. But something tickled low in his stomach, an inkling that there was more to the story. He heard shuffling earlier than he thought he would, and he looked up when Nate came into the room. "Hey. There's coffee, if you want," he said quietly, tilting his head towards the kitchen.

It took Nate a solid 5 minutes to realize where he was. The sharp pain in his head and stomach made worse by the blinding lights from the window. He smiled when he realized he was in Danny’s bed, which faded quickly when the memories of the night before flew into his mind. “Oh fuck,” he groaned running a hand down his face in frustration. He willed himself to get up, knowing he had to face the music. He walked into the main room wearing the clothes he wore the previous night. “Oh, no that’s alright. I should actually get going, honestly,” he said, his face still feeling heavy as the bruise on his eyes made itself more known, and his ribs still pulsing in dull pain.

Hurt flickered over his face. Now Nate didn't even want to talk to him? "I think first we should talk, yeah?" he suggested, setting his mug on the coffee table. The tone of his voice made it seem like less of a suggestion but not quite an order. "You wanna tell me what happened last night? It's not often I have to go into town and pick up my brother and my boyfriend from police custody," Danny said, aiming for a smile and failing considering how exhausted he was.

He closed his eyes softly with a deep breath. Yes, they needed to talk. But no, he didn’t want to and he was not well enough for this. “If I tell you, you’re going to want me to leave anyway,” he answered honestly. He walked closer to where Danny sat, but he didn’t sit himself. He sighed hotly, “I was on my way to a meeting when I ran into my father. And he started in on his shit - I was worthless and a disgrace and all that. And I had an attitude with him because he was wrong and he punched me a couple times,” he said pointing to his face. “And I should have just gone into the meeting. I know that, Danny, but I didn’t wanna go before cleaning up and the only thing open was the Wyrm. But on the way in, I ran into a Serpent who sold me some coke. And I…I’m sorry,” he said honestly, pain welling in his swollen eye. “But I’ve been fighting it for weeks. I could barely keep my head above water and I…I fucked up. So I took the hit and then decided to sit at the bar for a drink because I’d already fucked up.”

Danny fought to keep his face neutral. He knew Nate was beating himself up about relapsing, and he wasn't here to heap on the guilt. He couldn't keep himself from frowning when Nate mentioned how his dad hit him - wow he didn't think he could get that pissed that fast at someone - but he let out a breath to calm his temper. Nate was the priority here. Getting to his feet, he crossed to his boyfriend and took his hands in his own, squeezing his fingers lightly. "Am I thrilled you slipped up? No. Am I angry at you? Also no. Sobriety is fucking hard, babe, and you've been stressing about your dad visiting among other shit. There's other choices you could have made, sure, but you know you fucked up, and you'll learn from it, yeah?" He gently pushed some of Nate's hair from his eyes. "What happened after that? You and Noe were pretty beat up when I found you with the cops," he prompted, knowing there was more to the story.

When Danny got up to move closer, all Nate wanted was to crash into him, hold him, keep him close. Of course he was saying all the most wonderful things and each one hit Nate in the gut harder because he knew he didn’t deserve it. He kept a short distance away from Danny, knowing this part was hardest. “Before Noah got there, I ran into an old friend,” he said softly. “His names Mateo and he used to go to school here and we were best friends. We were…more than that,” he said. Nate made himself meet Danny’s eyes, “you are the love of my life, baby, I swear. But you’re not my first love,” he admitted softly. “And we got to talking and old feelings started swirling and before I could think straight - I was kissing him.” Admitting this was hard, he could feel a burn slide down his throat as he swallowed. “And then I stopped it, and he left and that’s when Noah came in.”

He didnt' push, though he ached to hold his man close, to prove this slip up wasn't going to drive him away. Danny knew what he was getting into once Nate told him about his addictions. And, everyone had a past, right? How could he be mad at Nate for having love for someone else before him? But then - His throat worked on a hard swallow, realization coming slowly after the initial reaction of feeling like he had been punched in the chest. He and Nate weren't monogamous, obviously, but they had an unspoken (mostly unspoken) agreement that other Dominants weren't part of that. And this wasn't Nate hooking up with Sam at a masquerade ball, where they were only two strangers. This was Nate, choosing to kiss someone else - someone he'd loved and lost. Danny pressed his lips together, his hands falling from where they had been holding Nate's. "You kissed him?" he asked faintly.

He breathed out slowly, trying to keep his emotions in check as much as he could as he watched the information process within him. “Yes,” he admitted his voice cracking but he tried to keep himself stoic. He didn’t want to lose it and make it seem like he wasn’t taking this seriously. “Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” he said honestly, “I messed up, I know I did, and I’ll do whatever I have to. Anything to prove how much I love you and how sorry I am.” He cleared his throat quickly, “then Noah was trying to get me out of the bar, and these Ghoulie assholes came up on us and pushed Noah to the ground, so I hit him. And then the cops showed up, spewed some bullshit to Noah about how your dad wouldn’t be proud of him right now, and I got pissed at them and started yelling. But then they said to call you before anything got worse. And that’s everything.”(edited)

The whole thing about Noah barely registered if he was being honest. Sure some low level rage bubbled in his stomach, but most of his body felt cold with shock. Danny didn’t know how to process the fact that Nate did what he did, knowingly. No one had ever cheated on him before. “I see. I should - I guess I should talk to Noah then,” he muttered, running a hand over his hair.

The fact Danny wasn’t saying anything hurt more than anything he could have thrown at Nate. “Baby please,” he said, his voice bordering on cracking if he wasn’t careful. “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. Please…please just talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to say, Nate,” he admitted in a shaky voice. Grief, rage, anger, sadness, jealousy - all those things he could handle. But the cold lance of hurt deep in his stomach was unfamiliar, and he didn’t understand how to process it. “You… you kissed someone else. Someone you love. It’s - is he still in town?”

That was fair, he couldn’t fault the man for being without words at the moment. “Loved,” he corrected, “past tense.” He ran his hand down his face, wincing when he’d forgot about the bruising. “I don’t know. Maybe? I would guess. His claim is Madeline’s brother so I know they’re all visiting.”

He inhaled sharply, letting it out on a slow, unsteady exhale. “Loved.” Danny struggled not to let his thoughts spiral, like they had with Daisy, wondering if he would turn out to be someone Nate talked about in past tense as well. “Are you - do you want to see him again? While he’s here?”

Nate shook his head, “no. Not like that anyway. I mean, if I hadn’t have fucked up I would have liked to catch up with him and introduce you to him and all that. But, no. You’re the only relationship I’m concerned about right now.”

Another hard swallow made his throat bob visibly, still struggling to process what was happening. What had happened. “Did -“ Danny paused, wiping sweaty palms against his pajama pants. “Did I do anything to…” he tried to ask, wondering if he’d done anything to make Nate feel like he needed to seek intimacy elsewhere.

Nate immediately started shaking his head and taking a step towards Danny. “No, no baby you didn’t do anything. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever known. You’ve been nothing but supportive and you’ve been putting up with all my shit. This is all me. I fucked up, you didn’t do anything at all,” he promised. He wanted to hold him, wrap his arms around Danny and never let go. But, he needed to let Danny drive this, determine when he was okay with it, if he ever would be again. “This is not an excuse,” he began, “but I was not in my right mind, Eros. I swear, I’d never do something like that if I was. But that doesn’t excuse it, because I still did it and I’m so, so sorry.”

He let out a short breath, running a hand over his hair, shifting back as Nate stepped forward. If there was anything in this world he knew with certainty, he knew he loved Nate, and Daisy. He'd heard that to love someone was to allow them the ability to hurt you, but he didn't think it would ever feel like this. "I love you, Nate," he said slowly, willing his voice not to shake. "That... that won't change. But I need a - I need to process this."

Nate allowed Danny to create distance between them, though it broke his heart to watch him back away like that. Like Nate had just completely destroyed him. His damaged heart fluttered at the words, but dropped a bit at Danny's next words. "Yeah...that's fair," he agreed. He turned towards the door a few steps before half turning back towards the other, "I love you, Danny," he said simply and truthfully, "I swear it." With a soft breath he turned back towards the door and made his way towards it.

Danny bit the inside of his lip, looking up to the gorgeous man he knew he couldn't be without. "I know," he said quietly, looking away before he could watch Nate walk out the door. He sank down to the couch, burying his face in his hands, trying to ignore the burning behind his eyes.

#para #p danny #danny #coming clean

[trumanlilac]

/ / 2 - s e t t l e - d o w n - i n - t o - t h e - c i t y / /

There was nothing more Ellie could do to keep sane other than invite Holly over. She paced the bedroom in complete awe, smiling to herself and glaring up at the heavens, utterly thankful for her blessings.

"He talked to you, okay, and? He's talked to you before." Holly rolled her eyes, still tapping around on her phone in disbelief.

"No look, you don't get it I mean he talked to me," Ellie continued, "he talk-talked to me."

"How?! He's what, in his twenties? Just like you told me when I liked Alex-"

"Ew, don't remind me." Ellie paused in disgust.

"He'd never like you because you're too young." She finished, "you'd...get him into trouble for crying out loud." She said, pushing her short black hair behind her ear and lying down on the bed in what seemed to be with frustration but could have easily been jealousy through Ellie's eyes. Holly wasn't necessarily the kind of girl to hold anything back.

Often the two would get into arguments, some big some small, then eventually end up at one another's houses the very next day as though nothing ever happened at all.

"Well thanks a lot." Her hopes shot down and the break up with her ex boyfriend Andrew crept back into her head.

"I just think maybe you felt like it was more than it was just because of your break up, that's all."

Maybe she was right. Maybe that was the case. Ellie ignored her, she no longer felt like talking. How could she be stupid enough to really think the small conversation in which she forced with Matty could have meant anything at all?

"You're mad at me now." Holly said, sitting up and sighing.

"No, I'm mad at my self. You know what Matty told me? He told me guys want sex. Know what else, I asked him if he wanted that from me as we were talking and he said no."

Holly's eyes widened, "oh my God you asked him that?!"

Ellie nodded slowly, she was unsure if this was a good or bad exclamation.

"You don't just ask someone that! Not...Matty, no no no..." she shook her head, getting up onto her feet, her drapey black cardigan sweeping the floor.

"Well, I was trying to be like the girls I see at Alex's parties, the older ones. They just say and ask whatever they want." Ellie shrugged, "and guys think its hot."

"So you think Matty thought it was hot?" Holly laughed.

"Oh shut up..."

"What if he said yes?" Holly smirked.

"Well what do you think?" Ellie laughed, blushing.

"You'd so fuck him." Holly teased.

"So would you!" Ellie threw her pillow at her and grabbed the stack of text books from the floor, "let's go downstairs, I've got some homework to do."

"How past due are the assignments this time?"

Ellie peaked over at her, ashamed, "a few weeks." She mumbled, struggling to open the door and heading down into the kitchen with Holly close behind.

"Your parents are gonna kill you when they see your grades."

"Then they just wont see them, they're always working anyway I'll get to them before they do." She dropped the massive load of books on the table and sat down.

Alex came straggling into the kitchen, his quiff sat unusually messy as he pulled the fridge open with eyes red as fire. Everyone came following him in, the noise level growing exceptionally loud.

Ellie fixed her hair, quickly, so did Holly. They both knew they had no chance with any of Alex's friends but it never kept them from trying.

"So are we going or not?" Adam asked, sipping on a glass of water.

"Yeah,who's driving, me or Ross?"

"I'll drive." Ross said, taking a seat at the bar table.

"Where are you going?" Ellie asked, her eyes wandering from Alex to Matty. Matty's already so fixed on her that she could only turn away as she saw.

"Out." Alex said, "I'll be back later."

"Out where?"

"Can we come?" Holly asked. Ellie waited for Alex's response.

"No." He said, stuffing nearly an entire cookie into his mouth.

Matty reached over the counter and grabbed one for himself, nearly doing the same. They were like animals who had just eaten for the very first time.

"Why not?" Ellie asked, sneaking glances back at Matty every moment she could as he did the same. Holly smirked, watching the two.

Alex looked at Matty, then over at Ellie as he noticed their eyes exchanging glances, Ellie quickly looked back into her book.

"If you come don't tell mum and dad I let you go out with us, they'll be rushing me back home thinking I'm corrupting you. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and snapped it open.

Alex didn't live in the Moore household. He lived down the way with a couple of roommates at their own place, yet still came over every other day to be cradled by their parents when he needed to get away.

"As if I'm not already corrupt anyway." Ellie shut her books, getting up and and grabbing the can from his hand, taking a sip. He looked at her through beady eyes and snatched it back, taking a few sips and setting it on the counter.

"Let's go then," Alex said, heading into the living room and grabbing his black leather coat. Everything about Ellie's brother was completely pretentious, he saw one classic American musical film called Grease and then wanted to pretend he was John Travolta all the damn time...but Alex was in fact, Ellie's biggest role model, even though he wasn't doing much with his time other than drugs and gigs with any pretentious band just like him who needed a bass player for a night or two. With never one to call his own.

"Did you see him looking at you?!" Holly whispered.

"I told you."

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

The city was alive and the lights shined bright. The noise was loud, although you couldn't hear a thing. Ellie peaked over the edge of the building in which she stood, everything seemed to move much slower from above than it did down below.

"DON'T FALL!" Alex brushed against her shoulder playfully.

"ALEX!" She screamed, punching him with all of her might. All the guys laughed, she could even spot Holly out on the side trying her best to contain a small smirk.

She rolled her eyes and sat down on the bench, she hated the way he always embarrassed her. She didn't know if Matty laughed or not, and didn't want to find out.

"Let's go down." Ross said, "I'm hungry."

"Me too." Alex followed him, Ellie watched them go, remaining where she sat.

"It was just a joke, Ellie." said Holly, her breath giving an illusion of smoke as she hugged herself to keep warm.

"Whatever, just go with them I'll be down in a minute." She said.

Holly sighed, going down the elevator. Ellie searched her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Feeling a presence she jumped as she hadn't realized she wasn't alone, Matty still stood in the same spot he was in the entire time, looking down into the city the same as she just had.

"I didn't think it was funny." He said.

Ellie quickly shoved the pack back into her purse, her heart racing in her chest. He walked over to her and sat down beside her.

She didn't say anything, she watched her breath in the coldness of the air.

"Can I have a cigarette?" He asked, looking down at her purse which sat in her lap and hugged up to her in her arms.

"What?" She asked.

"A cigarette..." he said, or was it empty?"

"I don't actually smoke." She opened her purse, pulling it out.

"Then why do you have it?" He asked, taking the cigarette as she handed it to him and pulling out a lighter.

"I just wanted to try it." She said.

"Look about earlier, can we keep that quiet? It was nothing but you know how Alex can be." He said, the smoke drifting off in the opposite direction as the wind whipped rapidly.

A secret? Ellie nodded, "do you think its stupid that I asked you all those questions earlier?" She asked, Holly's voice crept back into her mind.

He shook his head, laughing, "no."

"Why aren't you going with them to eat?" She asked, trying her best to hold her composure in the chilled wind.

"I don't want to eat. I want to do something else..." he shrugged, "I want to go...go to a bar, or a club or something." He said.

"Let's go." Ellie said hesitantly, she knew he'd most likely decline but she didn't care, she craved to spend time with him, and to figure him out...not as Alex's friend but as Matty.

He looked down at her and smirked.

"Seriously, and don't take me home til I'm drunk."

#sex chocolate rock n roll #trumanlilac #the 1975 #matty healy #george daniel #ross macdonald #adam hann #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 fanfiction #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writer on tumblr

[simpurnatural]

hello darling, I'm a new follower and I like the way you write <3, and I would like to make you a request. what do you think about peter andrew! where the reader shows her new nipple piercings to peter and ends up in something smutty. take your time and thank you <3 my english is not very good, sorry :((

Passion & Piercings 

TASM Peter Parker x Reader

Note from Nat: "Hello! Hi! Make yourself at home, love. Sorry, it took so long to write this but I hope you enjoy it!"

Warning ⚠️: Swearing, Smut, [not yet spell-corrected]

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED! WORKING ON A BUNCH OF REQUESTS ATM!

“Babe?” you shout from the bathroom, looking at your breasts in confusion. “Can you get in here real quick?”

“Yeah what’s-Hey when did you get them pierced?” your boyfriend questions and tilts his head to the side. 

You were too preoccupied by your upper half to notice that he was practically drooling at the sight. Peter has seen you shirtless countless times but this felt like a whole new world to him.

“I don’t know. Maybe yesterday when I was out with my girlfriends?” you shrug with your sweatshirt still pulled up to reveal your top half. “Didn’t notice it till now,” you say.

Girls Night Out was like a fever dream. You were only four drinks in and already wasted. Probably got your nips pierced at some tattoo shop which explains the new little heart tattoo on your index finger.

“Are they sore or anything?” Peter asks, totally mesmerized by your tits.

“Just a bit,” you mutter and poked near the ring, “I don’t think its infected though,” you sigh before pulling your shirt down. “What was I even thinking?”

“I like them,” Peter chirped as you walked past him and into the kitchen.

It took you both a moment to comprehend what he had just said, a dark shade of red scattering across his cheeks. But with the way the studs could still be seen through your white top made him go crazy.

“Yeah? Why?” you ask then looked over your shoulder. 

“I mean like you were hot before but now...I might not be able to keep my hands off you,” he confesses and spun you around. “Mind if I have another look?” he says, hands hovering under the hem of your top.

“Go ahead,” you respond before feeling the cold AC breeze hit your chest. “Someone’s excited,” you laugh as his warm hand cupped a breast.

“Does this hurt?” Peter asks, squeezing it slightly.

“No,” you reply as you tucked your shirt under your chin for easier access.

“How about this?” He wonders and pushes both breasts together

“Not even a bit,” you hum, very amused by his curiosity. 

“What if I did this?” he mumbles with his lips hovering dangerously close.

Your heart skipped a bit as his warm breath caused your breasts to perk up a bit. Peter sensed the goosebumps that spread across your arms before securely wrapping his lips around one.

“Peter,” you gasp as his tongue swirled around your pierced bud.

Raking a hand through his hair, Peter groaned around it which sent vibrations through your body. You moaned as he looked into your eyes with a lust-filled daze.  

“You like that. Don’t you?” he questions, now standing up straight. “You like it when I massage them like that?” he says and kneaded them gently. 

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, letting him slip your shirt off for you.

You remained speechless as Peter undressed himself and left you in your underwear. In one swift motion, he lifted you off the ground and placed you on the kitchen island. The cold marble made contact with your clothed cunt making you shiver. 

“You’re so hot,” Peter groans before capturing your lips. 

“Oh my God,” you moaned as he led a wet trail of kisses down your neck. “Fuck,” you muttered, feeling him bite at your sweet spot. “Peter-”

You were cut off by the feeling of his lips reconnecting with your breasts. He practically worshiped them, his attention consumed by them. Peter loved they looked and enjoyed just fondling with them at times.

He would find himself in bed laying on top of them like a pillow or gripping onto one as he slept. They were his source of comfort but were his weakness as well. 

Peter’s fingers were painfully slow at pulling down your underwear. You squirmed excitedly when finally got them off and closed the space between you both.

“Ready?” he asked, his cock rubbing up and down your folds. “I need to hear you say it,” he says and looked into your eyes.

“Yes,” you nodded before feeling his length fill your core to the brim. 

“Shit. You’re always so tight,” Peter chuckles, watching your eyes roll back. “Squeezing around me so much,”

He began rolling his hips back and forth while your tits bounced with every thrust. The sight was amusing, your back arching as he continuously abused that one spot. Neither of you would mind staying like this forever.

...

<3

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #tasm peter x reader #andrew!peter x reader #andrew garfield #andrew!spiderman #andrew garfield smut #tasm peter parker smut #The Amazing Spider Man

[juicegremlin]

Hugs (5+1)

~ 2 ~

TW: discussions of touch aversion, angst.

The second time it happens, the circumstances are less dire. Andrew is lounging on the couch while Nicky demolishes Aaron in Mario Kart, and Kevin busies himself with homework on the cushion chair. Andrew is half reading, half watching his brother get his ass handed to him. He can’t decide which is more entertaining.

“Jesus fuck,” Aaron exclaims, all but throwing his controller down.

Nicky grins and whoops. He reaches a fist behind one shoulder and Kevin absently bumps it, muttering about one of the French revolutions. Nicky folds his arms and levels a fake pout at Aaron.

“Aww,” he croons. “Are you gonna cry, Aaron? Is widdle baby a sore loser?”

“This is some bullshit,” Aaron spits. “There’s no way you won five games in a row. You have to be cheating.”

“Cousin of mine, do explain to me how one cheats at Mario Kart.”

“Think how many games we’d win if you put that much effort into exy,” Kevin mutters, but nobody’s paying him any attention.

Neil chooses that moment to come in through the front door. Andrew’s eyes lift, but only just barely. He’ll be damned if he lets the sudden rush of warmth show—not even if Neil is looking especially windswept today, or if his lips split into a wide grin at the sight of Andrew on the couch.

“Neil!” Nicky beams. “You’re just in time to watch me beat Aaron a sixth time.”

“No way in hell.” Aaron pushes angrily to his feet, brushing Dorito dust from his pants. “I’m done.”

Nicky sighs. “That’s on me. I let him win too many board games as a kid. You wanna play, Neil?”

Neil shakes his head, drawing Andrew’s attention back up. Neil’s grin has slipped a bit. His shoulders are hunched, weighed down by the straps of his backpack. His hair is mussed and there are circles beneath his eyes. Andrew knows for a fact Neil didn’t get much sleep last night; it seems the day’s classes did little to energize him.

“I’m okay,” Neil says.

Nicky shrugs. “No biggie, I should get on my homework anyway. Kevin, can I have you proofread an essay for me?”

Kevin tears his eyes away from his laptop. “What for?”

“Gov.”

“Yeah.”

Nicky drags Kevin into the kitchen so that they can collaborate over the counter. This leaves only Neil and Andrew in the living room, acres of carpet apart. Neil traverses them easily, letting his bag flop unceremoniously to the floor. Andrew looks up from his book.

“You look terrible,” he comments, blandly.

Neil grunts in response. He makes a vague gesture that Andrew interprets as scoot, so Andrew lifts his book and shifts to the far edge of the couch. Neil flops into the vacated space.

“I could sleep forever,” he muses, closing his eyes.

Andrew hums. “That would shut you up.”

“I can think of other ways to accomplish that.”  

Andrew looks up just in time to catch Neil’s tired wink, and it sends a jolt of something hot through his chest. He turns the next page in his book with a little more force than it warrants.

A few more seconds pass before Neil speaks again. “Hey, Drew?”

“What?”

“Yes or no?”

Andrew looks up again, raising an eyebrow. He flicks a meaningful glance over the back of the couch, to where Nicky and Kevin are still clearly in eyeshot.

Neil smiles, shaking his head. “Not like that, I just want to put my head in your lap. Can I?”

Andrew blinks at him. It’s happened once or twice before, but never in front of the others. They try to avoid PDA on the general. And Andrew supposes Nicky and Aaron are preoccupied, but… still.

Neil recognizes his hesitance. His smile softens a bit.

“A no is fine, Drew,” he assures. “I can lie down somewhere else.”

“I know it’s fine,” Andrew snaps. He lifts his book, creating a perfectly Neil-sized gap between the spine and his thighs.

Neil doesn’t move immediately, though. Even exhausted, he’s always on the lookout for lines in the sand.

Andrew rolls his eyes. “It’s a yes, Junkie. Get over here before I change my mind.”

Neil’s smile returns with a vengeance. He crawls across the brown leather to pillow his head on Andrew’s left thigh, turning his nose towards Andrew’s stomach. He takes a moment to look up with those bleary, Atlantic eyes of his, red lashes curling up to meet his browbones. Andrew looks away before his own expression can give anything up.

“Can I put my arms around your waist?” Neil asks.

Andrew nods, and Neil’s hands gently encircle his torso. He lets one rest just below Andrew’s ribs, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over the fabric of his shirt with a thumb.

It’s even less of a hug than before, but it leaves Andrew feeling the same way: utterly exposed, yet securely so. Like he could dangle himself from a rooftop and Neil would be there to reel him back in.

The thought rips through him like it has something to prove—and perhaps it does. His jaw clenches, but he manages to keep the rest of his body from tensing. The last thing he needs is for Neil to think he’s done something wrong (even thought the battered part of Andrew is convinced that he should—that Neil should be punished for dismantling Andrew’s defenses so thoroughly), so he forces himself into stillness. He can adjust to this. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.

But it does—always. When it comes to touch, for Andrew, every step forward is a trudge through molasses. Every line budged is a battle ceded. He wonders when Neil decided to fight for him, when anyone else would have taken up arms on the other side. He wonders what makes Neil different.

Or, maybe it isn’t that he’s different—maybe its that he and Andrew are very much the same. They were both brought up to be tortured, violated things. Their combined understanding of human cruelty could blow anyone else’s out of the water.

There is intimacy in pain, Andrew supposes, and perhaps there is closeness in the way Neil knows, like Andrew, the way it feels to be scraped raw from the inside out—to be left so empty only mildew and memories can settle in the hollows.

That, or Neil feels the same way Andrew does when they touch. When they look at each other.

That truth is a little harder to swallow.

But when Neil breathes a soft “thank you” into the fabric of Andrew’s sweatpants, Andrew thinks he could learn to choke it down.

-

-

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | +1

I don’t have part 3 written. When will it be up? Who knows?? Not me!!! Check out my current long-term project over on Ao3 tho, I’m consistent there, at least: Skin Comes Apart (Angel In Lothian).

#aftg #aftg fic #aftg fanfic #all for the game #the foxhole court #tfc #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #aftg hc #JuiceGremlin

[willowbird]

6 + 7 + 2 and Kandrew

Band! Bro-TP! Inside Andrew's closet! Assume this one takes place in the same AU as this other band prompt, because I can.

---

Part One | Part Two

--

Knock knock.

"Andrew. Andrew come out. This is getting ridiculous."

Knock knock knock.

"I don't see what the big deal it, Andrew. So he sang a song. He's in a band. As the singer. That's kind of what he does."

Knock knock knockknockknockknockknockknock--

Andrew flung the door open with such violence it creaked and shuddered upon its sudden impact with Kevin's knees.

"It wasn't just a song!" Andrew hissed in scathing astonishment. He ignored the sour look his best friend shot him and leaned heavily back against the wall of his closet (where he'd been sulking for the last two hours), before sliding all the way down to sit on the floor.

The tiniest pang of guilt struck when Kevin was still grimacing as he gingerly lowered himself to sit cross-legged on the threshold, but Andrew pushed it away. Now was not the time. He was in crisis here. Kevin should understand that.

"Okay," Kevin said slowly. "Tell me about the song, then."

"No."

A pained look crossed Kevin's face that had nothing to do with being smacked in the knees with a door and Andrew lost all sympathy for him.

"Andrew--"

"No."

"Andrew." Kevin's tone was steady and firm this time, a much younger replica of his dad's Coach Voice that Andrew hated that he couldn't help but listened to. He glared at his friend so he knew how unamused he was, but didn't interrupt again as Kevin continued with, "You like Neil, and he sang you a song. What is so terrible about that?"

Andrew glared. First he glared at Kevin, then he glared at the floor. Then he glared at the ceiling. Then he glared a Kevin again. He huffed, loudly. Then he took in a slow, deep breath and said, "It'll never work. So what, we... date? High school romances never last. We'll date and then he'll realize he doesn't actually want me, and then our friendship will be ruined forever."

"Wow, the gays really are dramatic," Kevin deadpanned.

"Speak for yourself 'Mister Kevin Knox xoxoxo'," Andrew simped right back at him, because Kevin wasn't even careful. He wrote that on the inside of his goddamn science notebook.

Kevin's cheeks darkened to about the shade of a Red Delicious apple, but there really wasn't much he could say to that so, wisely, he didn't try.

"Look," he said instead, "you like him. He likes you. He's made his move by singing a song to you. If you just try to ignore it now it's going to affect your friendship anyway."

"Your logic is offensive," Andrew grumped, draping his forearms across his knees with a sigh and tilting his head back against the wall. This wasn't supposed to happen. Feelings... weren't supposed to get involved. He was just supposed to make out with his hot sassy friend, get it out of his system, and then it would be come that thing that they laughed about when they were older. Now Andrew was attached. Ugh.

Kevin was smiling when Andrew looked at him and, well... It was a small smile, but Kevin's smiles always had Andrew relaxing. Even when they made him mad. There was once a time where Andrew and Kevin were the only ones who knew what each others' smiles looked like, and the sign of that smile always meant that things were gonna be okay. No matter what fucked up shit was going on, no matter how awful and terrible their home lives were, if Kevin could smile about something, about anything, then the world couldn't be that bad. Right? As long as Kevin could smile, Andrew could get through it.

So it was basically against his will - because Andrew really wanted to angst about this more - but he found himself feeling calmer. Feeling, goddamnit, almost hopeful. He tried not to sound too gay about it when he asked, "You really think this could work?"

Kevin nudged his toe with his own and that small smile shifted into a shy grin.

"Yeah, Andrew, I think this could work. Just... talk to him about it at least, okay? You know Neil will be honest with you if you're honest with him. Talking about feelings and shit sucks but... I mean... don't you think it might be worth it?"

And Andrew thought about that for a moment. Was it worth it? Was Neil worth it?

"Okay," he said before the thought had even finished formulating in his mind. Because the answer was obvious.

Now Kevin was outright grinning and Andrew scowled so he wouldn't smile too, that would be giving away too much. He kicked at Kevin's ankles with a snort. "Don't get too excited, Day. Once I've got Neil as my boyfriend I'm enlisting him to help me invade your love life."

"You wouldn't dare," Kevin hissed.

Now it was Andrew's turn to smirk. He kicked out again, but this time kept his leg extended enough that he could rest his calf against Kevin's. "Fuckin watch me."

#asks #aftg #aftg prompt game #kandrew bro-tp #kevin day #andrew minyard #band au #highschool au #gay disaster andrew minyard #my writing

[depressedacadamia]

Lightweight

Summary: Will Solace can’t realy hold his alcohol but Nico doesn’t really mind.

A/N: 2 fics in one week? Oh my gods, who is this writer and what have they done with Persephone? Enjoyy yall- I really enjoyed writing this one!  

Read on A03

“Hands off sunshine!” Nico warned as he held the bottle of vodka above his head, his arms outstretched.

“Give meee!” Will cried, his hand sloppily hitting Nico’s arm. The summer air was warm and Nico could feel the thin layer of sweat on his forehead- considering he had to stay in his tiptoes to hold the bottle above Will.

“Will, you didn’t even drink that much! How are you so drunk?”

“You don’t love me! Do you love me?”

“Of course I love you, ya little drunk shithead. You are totally wasted, no matter how many times you will doubt it,” Nico sighed, throwing Will’s arms over his shoulders in a vain attempt to carry him back to Cabin 7.

Will gave one long blink. Then another. “ Where are we going?”

“To your cabin. I’d shadow travel but I've seen a regular person’s reaction to that, I don’t want to see what chaos would come out of shadow travelling a hot drunken mess.”

“Did you just call me a mess?” Will pouted.

“Yes but I called you a hot mess. Focus on that part. It was mostly a compliment.”

“You’re sooo mean to meee. Do you even love me?”

“Yes I love you, stop being so heavy and carry your own legs please.” Nico shifted his back under the weight of his boyfriend's entire body and tried to manage a few steps- they would have been easy if his boyfriend wasn’t so damn fit and if he himself wasn’t slightly inebriated.

“Ni-” Will hiccuped. “-Co!”

“Yes?”

“Do you love me?”

Nico sighed again, slightly frustrated by the constant question. “Yes I love you, ask again and the answer may vary.”

“Phi Phi is so much nicer than you,” Will grumbled, his head leaning into the crook of Nico’s neck. Nico could smell the twinge of alcohol in Will’s breath along with the regular smell of the spearmint gum he would always be chewing.

“Phi Phi?” Nico snorted. “ Who in the name of God is that?”

“Your stepma! Phi Phi! She gave me so many nice flowers last time we visited!” Will paused before giving Nico an innocent look of disapproval. “ Do you not remember Phi Phii?”

Will accidentally dragged out the last ‘ee’ syllable in the word ‘phi phi’ making it sound like he was a 3 year old trying to read for the first time. Nico almost shivered at the mention of his stepmother; the last time he checked, she still had at least 157 variations of dandelions that she could turn him into the second he did anything going against her liking- afterall, she may have been the Goddess of the Spring but she was still the Queen of the Underworld.

“Yes, of course I remember Phi Phi.” He lowered his voice as he muttered the next few words under his breath to prevent them from being heard. “ How could I forget her and her stupid dandelions?”

“Phee Pheeee!”

“What about Phi Phi?”

Will paused for a few seconds. He tilted his head looking at Nico. “ Do you love me?”

Nico, awfully frustrated, decided to not answer the question honestly. “ No, I do not love you right now. Drunk you is a mess whom not only subject hops but also cannot walk coordinately.”

Nico did not think Will would take anything he said seriously but to his horror he was greatly mistaken. Will’s slow and steady breathing quickly became a rapid torrent of quick and unsteady breathing. Nico had thought that he was just mucking about but then he felt warm tears stain his shirt.

Tears streamed down Will’s flushed face, his freckles were almost invisible as the tears continued running down his face like a current. His chest racked with sobs and he pulled away from Nico and collapsed on the ground. He buried his head in his hands and let his heart beat harder with every cry that left his lips.

Nico watched, his mouth dropped. He had no idea what he had done or how to make it better. He reached out, trying to console the drunk and overly emotional Will but instead found himself feeling guilt beyond any he had ever felt before.

“Will?” He whispered. “ Will? You’re drunk. I was just joking, I didn’t mean anything I just said.”

Will's loud sobs started to slowly quieten down but the tears still freely ran across his face. He glanced upwards at Nico, his eyes rimmed red. His bottom lip wobbled and his eyes were wet.

“But.. but you said that you don’t love me…”

“I was joking. I was lying. I do love you. Only you.”

Nico plopped himself beside Will and shuffled himself closer, awkwardly. He tried to wrap one of his arms around Will but he found it to be too short and only barely touched Will’s other shoulder. So instead, he settled for rubbing soothing circles on Will’s back, calming him and forcing him to breathe slower.

“How do I know you are not lying to me now?” Will’s eyes were innocent and once again brimming with tears. “I always worry that you're just lying to me and then one day you’re going to just go poof and stupid me will be all sad.”

Nico thought he could feel his own eyes stinging- was this how Will really felt? Was Nico that bad a boyfriend that Will felt that every word, every kiss, every moment was a lie? Or did Will just consider himself so unloveable that every good thing that ever happened to him was just temporary or fake?

Nico glanced at the blonde eyelashes that were clad together with tears.

What happens inside that gorgeous head of yours, Solace?

“I love you William Andrew Solace. I choose you. You’re my significant other, significant annoyance- whatever you want to call it. And if I ever disappear, you’re sure as hell coming with me.”

Will wrapped his arms tightly and unexpectedly around Nico’s waist- causing Nico to be pushed onto his back while Will snuggled into his abdomen. Nico could feel his t-shirt stick to him due to the tears from Will’s face.

“I love you soooo much,” Will murmured into Nico’s stomach. Nico could feel his breathing hitch at the words. Nico kissed Will- light and innocent. That's what the kiss meant. He could taste the salty tears on Will’s lips and the bitter aftertaste of the vodka on his tongue. The kiss was quick, chaste and it may have not satisfied Will’s desire but it made him feel safe.

And to both of them, that’s all that mattered.

Will awoke the next morning with several life regrets but none as strong as the stupid amount of alcohol he had decided to consume the previous day or night. He could barely remember anything- let alone figure out where in the name of Zeus he was. The cabin seemed dreary but at the same time it was beautiful. It was dark and light and terrifying and beautiful all at the same time.

Wait. What Cabin was this? Whose Cabin was this? He didn’t think there was any Cabin that was so roomy with such a lack of accommodation. He almost felt like he was in a Cabin for a child of the Big Three- He remembered the one time he had taken a glimpse of the Poseidon Cabin and he remembered it to be huge- something he deeply envied Percy for.

It was only until Will noticed the black clad figure kneeling beside him that he realised where exactly he was. Beautifully tousled hair, gorgeous lips and eyes that one could get lost in forever- he only knew one person with features so defining. The question was, what on earth was he doing in Cabin 13?

Cabin 13- His boyfriend's cabin. Immediately, Will scrambled upwards. He looked Nico straight in the eye and tried to recall to what extent he embarrassed himself as a drunken idiot last night.

“How bad was it?”

“Shall I sugar coat it or give it to you straight?”

Will managed to squeak out, “Give it to me straight.”

“You tried to get into my pants and talked about how hot you thought I was.” Nico shrugged nonchalantly.

Will blanched and he immediately wished that had asked for the sugar coated version. He heard Nico laughing and he could feel his nerves both calm down and panic at the same time. Nico’s laugh was calming and beautiful and warm and made him feel all fuzzy like he was under a fluffy blanket. But he worried for what reason Nico was laughing.

“Calm down sunshine. I was joking- you should have known that I wouldn’t have been able to give it to you straight. You just asked dumb questions and cried a bit.”

“I cried?”

“It’s not a big deal.” Nico batted his hand. Will collapsed back onto the bed with an ‘ow’ and groaned something unintelligible about it being ‘too early in the morning for this’.

“It’s actually 1 in the afternoon but to each their own I guess.”

Will wanted to shout WHAT but he did not want to rack his head with an already painful headache so he instead settled for dropping his jaw.

“Close your mouth sunshine unless you plan on using it,” Nico mumbled. Will felt his jaw drop further before he snapped it back and swore internally. He made a mental note to never have a hangover near Nico because he would use it to his advantage.

“So why exactly did I cry yesterday?” Will asked as he sipped from the glass of water that had been placed at the bedside by, he could only assume, Nico. Will noticed that when asked that question, Nico tensed, his hands digging slightly into his jeans.

The corner of Will’s lips tilted upwards. “ What did you say?”

“What makes you think I said anything? Drunk you is a crybaby and you know it,” Nico huffed defensively, refusing to meet Will's eye.

“Yeah but you’re acting guilty.”

“What if I killed some boring skeleton zombie this morning and I’m only now mourning their already dead body?”

“Spare me the dark and frankly dry humour,” Will deadpanned, excited to hear the cause of his outburst yesterday.

Nico mumbled something under his breath, all while looking away from Will.

“What?”

“I said,'' Nico took a deep breath. “That I didn't love you-”

“-What?”

“But it was a joke!”

Will could feel his stomach churning and he couldn't tell if it was from the hangover or the current situation. He managed to resist a gag. “How is that a joke?”

Will’s voice was so hoarse and weak, Nico thought that he was going to break into tears all over again and he knew that if that happened, he would end up with tears flooding his own face.

“It’s because, well, drunk you kept on asking Do you love me and of course I do but drunk you is just so heavy and you kept on asking and so I of course gave a sarcastic quip and you just burst into tears and..”

Will stared at Nico and for a second, Nico was terrified that he had really blown it.He watched as his boyfriend buried his face into his hands and began shaking. His back was shivering and Nico could hear little whimpers.

“Fuck.” Nico had subconsciously let the profanity pass through his lips.

Will, suddenly, threw his head back and his laugh echoed around the empty Cabin 13. Nico felt stuned. Was he laughing in rage? Should he run?

“Will. I am so so sorry. I swear, it was a joke. I love you, I chose you William Andrew Solace. I’ll do it again and again.”

“You,” Will wheezed. “ Idiot! Did you really get so worked up over drunk me being dramatic? I was being hyperbolic!”

Nico tilted his head ever so slightly but his ravenous locks still fell over his eyes however he didn’t seem to mind as he made no effort to move it from his sight.

“So… you aren’t mad?”

“I mean I won’t reject any special treatment if you were thinking of offering as a way of showing your sorrow,” Will teased.

“Shut it.” Nico pouted. “ Do I not get a dramatic love confession? I gave you two.”

Will raised his eyebrow and threw his legs over the edge of the bed. “ If I can count correctly, and I can, I only recall one dramatic love confession.”

“You were too drunk to remember the first one.”

Will let out a groan before softly smiling.”I love you. I choose you, Nicolo Di Angelo.”

“Don’t call me Nicolo!”

#will solace #nico di angelo #solangelo #solangelo fanfic #will solace fanfic #nico di angelo fanfic #nico x will #will x nico #solangelo angst #solangelo fluff #pjo #hoo #toa #nico x wil fanfic #will x nico fanfic #will solace angst #will solace fluff #nico di angelo angst #nico di angelo fluff #Nico and Will #william solace #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo

[thetriggeredhappy]

day 1 let’s fuckin’ go. everyone listen to butterflies by samsa

Day 1: Pursuit

“You seriously don’t have any better games than this?” Scout complained, looking back down at the board, doubtful. “Not even, like, a deck of cards? To play poker or somethin’?”

“Rather not play two-person poker, and I don’t like gambling anyways,” was Sniper’s reply, not glancing up from shuffling the cards.

“I mean, maybe Go Fish then, or Old Maid, or—or somethin’, not fuckin’… Trivial Pursuit.”

Sniper seemed to mull that over for a moment. “If you don’t want to play,” he started to say, hesitant, and Scout sputtered to cut him off before he could finish that thought.

“I, I mean, I didn’t say that,” he managed, still half-glaring down at the board. “Just, y’know.”

Sniper probably didn’t know, actually. Truthfully, Scout wasn’t much for… book smarts type games. Games that needed quick reflexes, talking quickly, theatrics, those he was a champion at besides his eternally bad luck, but facts and numbers and geography? Those he tended to sort of… fuck up beyond recognition. And he really, really didn’t want to look like a complete idiot in front of Sniper.

Kind of the worst case scenario, actually. But the worse worst case scenario was driving the guy away before even getting to hang out with him, here, the first time he’d ever agreed to one of Scout’s dozens of proposed hangouts.

Hell, he’d honestly gotten used to Sniper always saying no. ‘Nah’ and ‘Not this time’ and ‘Afraid not, sorry mate’ were three phrases Scout had heard at least three and four times a week for months, now. He’d started brushing right through it, stopped letting it hurt his feelings even, although he couldn’t help but get his hopes up, still. Invitations to team drinking nights and poker parties and carpooling with the guys to the movies or a bar or a casino, or more overt invitations to listen to new albums or go out to get fast food or to fairs or to concerts, he’d long since gotten used to those standard, polite rejections.

So he was surprised, then, when he’d delivered his offhanded invitation—“Hey, Snipes, all the other guys bailed on the rec room game night tonight, you wanna be there anyways?”—he hadn’t expected Sniper to hesitate for a few seconds before shrugging and saying sure.

Hell, he was halfway through his ‘yeah no problem no worries man’ before he even realized Sniper said yes, then it was fumbling the whole rest of the way.

Better to be an idiot friend than a distant acquaintance, maybe. That’s what he told himself.

A brief mumbled rundown of the rules went in one ear and out the other as he got preoccupied with looking over one of the cards, mind boggled by what the hell the letters and colors were supposed to mean. A short summary was nodded at vaguely, and apparently his poker face had been terrible all along, because Sniper shrugged and said that they could just play first to six questions right and tally up wins from there. Then they rolled a dice and Sniper, apparently, would go first.

“Alright, uh,” Scout said, squinting down at the little card. “What does a… he-leo-logist, study?”

Sniper thought about it for a second. “Er… the sun,” he replied.

“Yep,” Scout nodded, nudged a piece towards him. Sniper took it. “So, uh, you go again?”

“Yeah. Er… geography, this time,” Sniper mumbled, shuffling some pieces around in a way that probably made sense to people who actually knew how this board game worked.

“Sure. What’s… the country that has South America’s highest and lowest points?”

Another pause. “Bloody… Argentina, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Damn. Okay, next one,” Scout said, less concerned about the fact that Sniper was doing well and more worried at the fact that he was gonna do awful.

“Geography again,” Sniper determined.

“What natural… breakwater, is off the north… eastern, part of Australia?” he read, a little stilted, squinting at the letters, like that would help, for once. Silence, for a pause, then for longer. Scout breathed an internal sigh of relief, smiling a little. “C’mon, it’s your own fuckin’, uh… country, continent, thing, isn’t it?”

“It’s both,” Sniper said, and paused. “It… it’s not talking about the bloody, er… Solomon Islands, is it?”

“Great Barrier Reef,” Scout replied.

Sniper muttered a swear. “Overthought it,” he sighed, nudging the dice over to Scout, who rolled it. Sniper glanced at the number, moved the pieces, looked at a card. “Right. What craft uses a… kiln, and a kick wheel?”

Scout could’ve cried. “That’s, uh, pottery, sculpting,” he said, relieved.

A nod from Sniper, a piece scooped onto his side of the table, the dice rolled a few seconds later when he realized he was supposed to do that. “How many colors are in the rainbow?” he asked next.

Scout had to count off on his fingers for a second. “Uh, seven,” he said, and fist-pumped when Sniper nodded, scooping up another piece. “Even though it’s, uh, kinda bullishit. There should be six.”

Sniper’s eyebrows ticking up in confusion probably was a sign he should drop it, but instead he found himself spouting off.

“Because, uh, like, y’know, there’s—there’s the kinds of colors, right?” he said, backpedaling at his response of furrowed eyebrows. “Like, the basic ones, the, uh, primary colors, that’s red and yellow and blue, y’know? And then the other three, that you get from mixing those, like, uh, red and yellow is, uh… is orange, and then like, green, and purple, you combine ‘em, right?”

Sniper nodded slowly after a moment.

“But then you got, uh, fuckin’… indigo. In the, uh, in the list of colors, fuckin’, Roy G. Biv? Red orange yellow, green, blue indigo violet? And I know it’s, like, blue and dark blue, but I think that still sucks. If we’ve got indigo we’ve gotta have like, the other in- between guys. Know what I mean?”

“Don’t have much of an opinion on it, but, sounds like you’re making points,” Sniper said, and Scout shrugged, glanced down at the table, tapped his fingertips against his knees out of sight to try and let out some nervous energy. “Bloody, er… your turn, or mine?”

“Uh, mine,” Scout said, scrambling to roll the dice.

“Right. Sorry. Er…” Sniper read over the card. “Patron saint of Scotland?”

Scout swore under his breath, deflating a little, coming up blank. “Uh… hey, Demo!” he called, and heard a vague ‘aye’ from the kitchen. “Who’s the patron saint of Scotland?”

“My mum,” Demo called back, and Sniper snickered, at least, which softened the blow to Scout’s confidence considerably.

“Ah, fuck off,” Scout called back, and looked back at Sniper, smiling. “Saint Scrumpy, fuck, I dunno.”

“Saint Andrew, apparently,” Sniper shrugged, rolling the dice. “Sports question. The orange one.”

Scout tried to read the question before starting to say anything out loud, and found himself completely lost anyways. “Who was the first… Ch—Check-uh-slavarian… to win, the… Wimbleton…”

“No idea,” Sniper said outright, shaking his head at himself. “Don’t follow, er… what, the Olympics?”

“Tennis, I guess,” Scout shrugged, rolling the dice.

“Sports for you too. What did… bloody hell. What did second baseman Bill… Wambsganss, do all by himself in the, er… 1920 World Series game?”

“Oh, shit,” Scout laughed, “guy did, like, a triple play, and then hit into a double later that same game. That was the year some guy got hit in the head with a ball and fuckin’ died.”

Sniper was staring at him, clearly shocked.

“What?” Scout asked, rolling the dice. “I know baseball. And it was a whole thing.”

Sniper seemed to shrug it off, shaking his head. “What’s the Taj Mahal made of?”

“Fuckin’, I dunno, chocolate? What, that some kinda dessert? What’s that?” Scout scoffed, trying to play it off.

“It’s… it’s a place. Looks a bit like a castle? Like, er, like the Eiffel Tower, or Big Ben, tourist sort of thing?” Sniper tried, and Scout shrugged, and he shrugged back, rolling the dice. “Fair enough. One of the, er, Science ones. Green one.”

Scout looked at the card for a few seconds. “I… dunno how to say this word. Glue… glay… what’s that?”

Sniper leaned over, and Scout turned it towards him. “Glaucoma. Hits your eyes,” he said, and Scout nodded, and he took a piece, rolled again. “Brown one.”

“What are… catalogued, under the Dewey decimal system?” Scout asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“Books, library books,” Sniper mumbled.

“Jesus, are you—where’s the mirrors, seriously? How are you doing that?” Scout asked, and Sniper huffed something like a laugh, taking the piece, rolling again. “No, no, seriously. How the hell do you know half of these?”

“Geography, blue,” he prompted.

“Alright, I swear to god.” Scout held the card close as he read it, first to himself, then out loud. “What national capital is heated by underground hot springs?”

Sniper, to his credit, paused for a moment before answering. “Iceland’s. Reykjavik, it’s called.”

“I swear to god.” Scout flipped over the card, read the answer. “Oh, what the fuck!”

“I’ve bloody been there!” Sniper defended.

“Nah, fuck off, hold on—“ Scout picked up another card, reading another question. “Where in a tree does photosynthesis happen?”

“Leaves.”

“How do you know that so fast!” Scout demanded.

“That’s just science class in school!”

“Fuckin’—who, fuckin’, rode on the raft with Huck Finn?” Scout asked next.

“The, er… runaway, Jim.”

“Oh, what!” Scout all but shouted.

“Scout, I read.”

“Nah, nah, you’re way too good at this game, either you’re like, cheating, or you on purpose picked this game because you’re, like, weirdly crazy good at it or something!”

Sniper’s expression went from amusement to that blankness again, and it only made Scout even more infuriated.

“I mean, seriously, did you pick this game on purpose because you just know all the cards? Did you just wanna do the game where you’d for sure win?” he demanded.

Sniper was fidgeting with his glasses, now, and to be honest, Scout wasn’t even particularly mad, just confused.

“I mean, shit, you’d think you just wanted too play this one so you could look smart and cool and shit like that,” he said. and saw the way Sniper shrank a little, and the lightbulb went off way too late.

A pause.

“Dude,” Scout said, fighting down a laugh.

Sniper mumbled something he didn’t quite hear, sinking in his chair.

“Alright, seriously, if you wanna look smarter than me, you really don’t gotta pull out the trivia questions. Pretty much any game works, you know that, right? I’ll make an idiot of myself playing, like… Uno,” Scout said. Sniper shrugged, still not looking him in the eye. “Okay. Here’s an idea. How about we play, uh… I dunno, Crazy Eights. And while we play I’m gonna keep grilling you on this random trivia shit because seriously, that’s totally nuts, man.”

Sniper hesitated for a few seconds before he finally nodded and straightened up, and in a way, they both won. Scout because he now at least knew he wasn’t the only one who was a total mess and way too worried about what other people thought, and Sniper because he could keep being impressive about random trivia knowledge. Apparently, he knew a bunch about geography and books and nature, and not a single thing about sports.

Scout accused him of trying to memorize the cards. Sniper laughed, properly, for the first time all night.

#sniperscout #speeding bullet #sniperscout ship week #team fortress 2 #tf2 #shut up me #just this once. SNIPER is the dorkass loser

[yikesharringrove]

Egg the Cat

Chapter 3

Read on Ao3

-

Billy had to double-check to make sure he hadn't accidentally followed someone else home from the party.

Because Steve lived in a fucking mansion.

“Jesus Christ .” Billy stared at the house. “You didn’t tell me you’re fucking royalty .” Steve rolled his eyes, leading Billy towards the house.

“Can it. You got the booze?” Billy shook the bottle at him.

Steve looked better. Like maybe he had gotten a bit of a handle on himself.

Billy followed him into the pool of light cast over the porch, the unmistakable scream of a very excited cat sounding from inside.

Steve pushed open the door, bending immediately to scoop up his purring cat, holding her close to him as he went inside.

Billy gave a low whistle as he took off his boots, lining them neatly next to Steve’s shoes.

Steve just climbed the stairs, assumed Billy was following.

Steve’s bedroom was nice enough.

Felt as impersonal as the rest of the gaudy house, but there was a cat tree by the window, and a cat bed Egg ignored in favor of curling up on Steve’s lap as he settled in bed, sitting up against the headboard.

Billy didn’t know what to do with himself.

Last time he was in another boy’s bedroom, very different things were happening.

But then Steve gave him an odd look, eyes flicking to the spot next to himself, and Billy took that as his cue.

“I can’t drink a lot. Gotta be home in three hours.” His dad had a very clear rule about curfew: You miss it, don’t bother coming home.

“This is for me, anyway.” Steve gave him the weakest smile Billy’s ever seen, taking the bottle from Billy’s hand, and taking a long pull.

He grimaced at the taste, gasping for breath.

“That’s fucking rank .”

“Not used to cheap liquor?” Steve swatted at his arm, but took one more pull before passing the bottle to Billy.

Egg was still settled in his lap, and Steve ran long fingers through her dark fur.

“She can always tell when I’m feeling bad. Gets extra snuggly.”

“More snuggly than at the diner?”

“Nah, that was the more. She could tell I had been freaking out looking for her.” Her ear twitched and her tail swished, like she knew they were talking about her. “She’s the smartest cat in the world, I think.” He was quiet for a few moments as Billy took a drink from the bottle. “Took better care ‘a me than Nancy ever did. That’s for damn sure.”

“Sucks that she dumped you like that. All drunk and shit.”

“Isn’t there an expression? Drunk words are sober thoughts? Wish she had gotten drunk a year ago. Woulda saved me a lot of fucking trouble.” Egg perked up, standing to pace on Steve’s lap, curling up again, her chin resting on his tummy. “See? Has a fuckin’ sixth sense for when I’m upset.” She purred, her eyes closing as Steve scratched between her ears, down her back.

“How long have you had her?”

“Like five years? Someone was just, giving her away. Said he didn’t need bad omens, or whatever. ‘Cause she’s a black cat. I think that’s fuckin stupid. She’s brought me nothing but good.” Egg purred again, blinking slowly at Steve, nipping playfully at his fingers.

She really was cute.

Billy had never been much of a cat person, always favored dogs a bit more.

But Egg was so human, the way she tracked their conversation, like she could understand it.

“Man, don’t laugh.” Steve took the bottle from Billy, taking another long pull, shuddering halfway through. “I’m already feelin’ this. Haven’t drunk in so long .”

“Pussy.” Steve huffed a laugh, Egg meowed as his stomach shifted, jostling her head. He let the silence sit for a moment, just watched Steve’s fingers stroke through thick dark fur.

“So, uh, are you like, friends with Tommy?” Steve’s voice was way too measured, his tone far too light and casual.

“Who?”

“Tommy. The guy that was parading you around all night.”

“Oh, uh Karate Kid, guy?”

“Yeah.”

“No. He just kinda started talking at me, told me to do a keg stand. Said the guy that still held the record was a poser.” Steve outright laughed at that.

“Yeah, you broke my record tonight. I’m the poser.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.”

Billy turned to look at Steve, found him smiling this stupid fond smile at the cat on his lap. The room was dim, only one lamp clicked on, throwing a warm glow around the room.

“Can I ask you what happened? You said you used to be hot shit.”

“Nancy.” Steve’s smile evaporated like a flash. “I used to be a real douchebag. Ruled that fucking school. I mean, it’s not like I liked myself. I could definitely be called a bully, like, which sucks. But, you know. I had friends. I was popular. All that.”

“But she didn’t like that.”

“Nope.” Steve made sure to pop the ‘p’. “It’s not like she blatantly said that, but I could tell. I think that, I think that the changes have been good, like I’m nicer to people now. But I kinda cut off all my friends. Just hang out with her most of the time. And now-” Steve trailed off, taking another swig of shitty tequila. “Guess it’s just me and Eggy.”

“You say that like I’m not sitting right here.” Steve smiled at him, a real one, not the tight ones he’s been using all night.

“You hang out with me, you’re gonna be a fucking laughing stock, new kid.”

“Oh, come on. Have you seen me? I could literally never be a laughing stock. If anything, I'll make you cool again.” Steve just hmmmn ed at Billy, his eyes going a little far away.

“I don’t know if I really, really care about that anymore, if I’m being honest.” He swallowed thickly. “Some major shit went down last year. Like, more than Nancy shit. Kinda put things in perspective, I guess.” Egg had sat up, kneading at Steve’s stomach, making a noise like a little cat alarm.

Egg was so in tune with Steve it was utterly fucking ridiculous. They must be wired directly into one another’s brains.

“What kinda major shit?” Steve was quiet. Egg began walking up him, stepping softly until she settled on his chest, her chin resting on his shoulder, little pink nose tucked into his neck.

“Just like, major shit. Like, like people died kinda major.”

“Damn.”

“Like, I legally can’t talk about it kinda major.” Egg sniffed in his neck.

“What, you get mixed up in some kinda lawsuit or some shit?” Steve just sighed.

“Man, I just said I legally can’t say anything.” But he had a ghost of a smile on his face when he turned to look at Billy. “Can I ask you something?”

“Free country.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Why Hawkins ?”

“You asked me that like, three times yesterday.”

“And you never answered.”

“I said my dad remarried and wanted a-”

“Fresh start, yeah. But you could move one town over and have that. You could stay in the same damn state and do that. Why Hawkins ?”

There was something more behind Steve’s voice, something strained.

Billy just looked back up at the ceiling.

He had to take a breath, talking himself out of actually telling Steve. Telling him how Neil wanted him out of California, where gay bars were only a short drive away. Where Billy could cruise the piers, where a carefully toned you goin’ my way? could lead to a sloppy blowjob in the car.

Hawkins wasn’t necessarily specific, but Neil had wanted a small, God-fearing town. One where he would know if Billy got up to anything unsavory.

“He found a job here,” he said lamely.

Everything in him was screaming to trust Steve. To tell him the truth. Which was just a fuck of a lot. Billy doesn't trust people. He just does not.

He blames Steve.

Blames those soft brown eyes.

“Well, that’s thrilling .” Billy rolled his eyes, smiling a little to himself.

“What were you expecting?”

“Something more exciting. You moved here from California. That’s like, the coolest place ever .”

“I lived in L.A., too.”

“So like, the coolest place in the coolest place.”

“You ever been?” Steve just gave him a dark look.

“Last time I left the state was ten years ago. My parents took me to Chicago.”

“Damn. You’re like, a true hick, then. Only know this little town.”

“That’s me. Pure hick .” He scratched Egg’s back hip. She purred softly. Billy took another long drink, officially calling that his last one. He needed to be sober by the time he went home. Couldn’t be loud and clumsy as he made his way to his room.

He just pressed the bottle into Steve’s hand.

They spent the rest of the time before Billy had to leave just talking.

It was nice, Steve filling him in on the Hawkins drama, told him which gas stations had better candy selections, that the liquor store on the corner of Haven and Burbank didn’t card. He told him that Andrew Conner always had good weed, but it was cheaper to buy from Lisa Kendle.

And the more Steve drank, the more his eyes drooped, the lazier his smiles got, the closer he scoot to Billy.

He was warm, pressed up to Billy’s side, cat still curled on his chest.

He listened with rapt attention as Billy gave him stories about California, about the boardwalk and metal shows, told him stories of his best hookups, told him they were girls.

He was in the middle of one story, switched out the name from Daniel to something more appropriate, when he looked over, found Steve knocked out, mouth hanging open, tequila dangerously close to spilling, cat sleeping soundly on his chest.

It made Billy falter.

He just took in the scene, wanting to remember it.

He moved slowly, tried not to shift the bed too much, and turned out the light in Steve’s bedroom as he left.

#yikes writes #egg the cat #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #i refuse to pay attention in class today thanks

[hyunjilicious]

would you? [chris evans]

A/n: I literally word vomited this in less than 20 minutes and didn’t proof read it so please be kind lol. Also I haven’t written fluff in ages and I forgot how to do it!

Summary: Chris gets all riled up when you tell him you actually like and would date his character Ransom, from Knives Out. (FLUFF) 1.4k

Warnings: literally none? I think... alcohol if that’s a warning? Oh, and shitty writing. And tons of fluff. Like only fluff. Too much maybe. Really fucking domestic tho. I needed that tonight. 

-

Above anything else, you loved late nights in. Like this one for instance, as it was well past 3am, and both you and Chris were still wide awake. You, in the living room, scrolling through the channels on your rarely used TV, and him, in the kitchen, grabbing glasses, making popcorn and picking the next bottle of wine.

“Baby!” you yelled over your shoulder as you suddenly stopped flicking through the channels and finally settled on one. Chris’s face took up the whole screen as Knives Out was playing, and you couldn’t help but smile.

He didn’t answer.

“Baby!” you called again, this time louder and more determined.

First, you heard a soft clatter and then a deafening bang. “You ok?” you asked, rushing to your feet and sprinting towards the kitchen.

As soon as you opened the door, your eyes landed on Chris. He was sitting on the floor, his back hunched dangerously low.

“Baby, what happened?” you whined, walking over to him. Then you saw it. “Is that my shake for tomorrow?”

Chris looked up, eyes all wide and apologetic as he tried to win you over with his dazzling smile, “I just wanted to taste it”

“You child” you laughed.

“I don’t know why I got so scared when you called me, I fucking dropped it” he confessed, standing up and grabbing a napkin, “You know when we were kids and were doing stuff we weren’t supposed to? That’s the kind of nervousness I was feeling while drinking your shake”

“I thought you were just tasting it?” you pouted.

Chris opened his mouth to respond, but then found himself at a loss for words. “Ok, fine!” he eventually exclaimed, "I don’t know why yours is so much better than mine?”

“That’s because you’ve got no patience to blend properly” you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, I blend!” he argued amused, pointing his finger at you, “It’s not the blending, I tell you”

You sighed, unable to hide your smile. Moving to the side to help carry the snacks to the living room, you spoke to him over your shoulder, “I still don't understand why you won’t let me make it for you”

“Because I’m a grown ass man, Y/n” he huffed, still inside the kitchen, “What kind of dipshit isn’t able to make his own protein shake?”

“You apparently” you laughed and then heard him mock you from the kitchen.

Yes, you loved staying in with him more than anything in the world.

A few minutes later, you had both settled on the couch, scrolling through Netflix in search of a movie worthy of your precious time.

Chris took a sip of wine and then nudged your side, “What did you wanna say earlier?”

“What?”

“When I dropped the shake” he clarified, “You had something to say”

You frowned with confusion for a second and then remembered, “Oh, yeah” you giggled, throwing some popcorn into your mouth, “Just how hot Ransom is, that’s all”

Chris narrowed his eyes, “America’s asshole?”

“The one and only”

“You think he’s hot?” he asked. He seemed to have gotten defensive, offended even.

“Yeah, of course” you said, “How could I not…?”

“He’s a dipshit” 

“Yeah, he is-” you rolled your eyes, turning to look at him, “But it’s your fucking face Chris, how could I possibly not find him hot?”

He sighed, probably thinking there was no way for him to win this, “Ok, but you just like his face and that’s all. He wouldn’t be able to woo you or anything right?”

“I mean-” you giggled.

“Y/n!” Chris exclaimed, “What’s wrong with you? Tell me that if I didn’t exist and Ransom did, you wouldn’t date him”

“I’d date, marry and die by Andrew Barber if he existed” you laughed.

“Answer my question, baby” Chris said, trying his best to sound serious.

“I don’t know what you want me to say” you whined, cuddling into his side. “I like you” you added, looking up into his eyes.

“I like you too, doll” he smiled, gathering you into his arms and nudging your cheek, “That’s why I wanna know you wouldn’t date someone like Ransom”

“You’re the only I wanna date anyway-”

“We talked about this” Chris laughed, kissing your forehead before returning to look into your eyes, “I don’t exist, he does”

“I’d fucking date him, Chris. I think he’d be capable of loving me. And I think there’s a sweetheart hidden in there somewhere. I’m sure he just needs someone to love and care for him, that's all.”

He remained silent. Looked at you as if you had stolen all the words from his tongue. “Ok, but what if you try to express your opinion one time and he dismisses it in an instant and tells you to eat shit?”

“No one does that” you laughed.

“No, no, no!” Chris jumped, tapping your thigh, “Now I’m intrigued, I wanna see, what would you do?”

“Well” you contemplated, “Since the words would be coming out of your face, I’d probably just drop it and try again later”

Chris looked at you dumbfounded, shaking his head in disbelief as he thought of another scenario. “Let’s say you’re getting dressed to go out with some girlfriends and he tells you to stay at home because he’s horny”

“We’re in the middle of a pandemic, Chris” you laughed, proud of yourself for turning this against him, “He’d just be taking care of me. Who knows who my friends came in contact with anyway”

He sighed deeply, furrowing his brows. He tightened his hold around your frame as he thought of something else, his lips pressing soft, random kisses along your hairline.

“What if he’d talk down to you? I’m sure he’d always do that”

“Well-” you smiled, “You talk down to me and call me all sorts of names-”

“OUTSIDE OF SEX, Y/N!”

You stopped to think, “I’m sure he’d mean them with love?”

His eyes widened with exasperation as he grabbed your cheeks into his hands, “Baby, and I mean this in the most sweet and loving way possible, you have problems up here” he said, tapping your temple.

“Oh god” you chuckled and rolled your eyes, ushering his hands away, “Just let a girl love her man, jesus”

“Yes!” Chris yelled, exasperated, “Love me, not fucking Ransom Drysdale what the fuck!” “You are him!” you yelled back.

“No, I’m not! I don’t exist! We were just talking about that spoiled asshole, not me!” “Oh” you pouted, suddenly looking all confused, “Well if you put things like that…”

“Are you serious!?” Chris exclaimed, laughter interrupting his words, “Have we been having this dumb ass conversation for the last 10 minutes only because you have selective attention?”

“Well.. you know, it’s 3 am and I love you so like I got confused and just went with it”

“I love you too, my angel” Chris said, leaning down to kiss you lips, “I don’t know how you managed to finish college with that attention span but -”

“Hey” you laughed, playfully slapping his cheek.

“I’m kidding!” he shook his head, “You’re smart as fuck, that’s why I was worried you’d ever think some like Ransom was worth your time”

After going off on this topic for just a little bit longer, you decided it was actually time to go to sleep. After cleaning up and tidying the living room, Chris picked you up into his arms and started heading towards your bedroom.

“I love you so much” you whined, kissing the side of his neck.

“I love you too, baby” he said, “And I’m sorry I'm starting this again, but I wanna know if I got it right. The only reason you said you’d accept those things was because you thought they were coming from me?”

“Yeah” you yawned, “Why?”

“Cause that’s not ok either” he countered, walking into the bedroom and placing you on the bed.

“Wouldn’t you? Accept those things from me, I mean?”

“Well yeah, but…” Chris said, placing his hands on his hips as he tried to find a way to make the situation sound reasonable. There wasn’t one. “OK, we’re both mentally deranged” he concluded, and hopped into bed next to you, “Let’s just sleep right now and never talk about this again”

“Deal” you laughed, rolling over to lay on his chest.

#chris evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale imagine #chris evans fluff #chris evans blurb

[crazymisscarly]

OBVIOUSLY I’m gonna ask about: Bughead sexcapades !!!

Oh God, my inner puritan is *blushing* right now. I started writing this like... over a year ago and I don’t know if I’ll ever finish it. I low key got tired of re-reading all the season 2 era bughead smut fanfics on ao3 (because believe me, i’ve read them all) and decided to give it a go myself. I’m not very explicitly smutty when I write, I prefer to allude to things or just graze the surface. not to say that I don’t like including sex scenes in my works - I just tend to steer clear of anything graphic.

Since I don’t know if I’ll actually finish it, I’ll post it here in its current entirety. For context, it’s meant to go through all of bughead’s ‘sexcapades’ throughout the early series, all the unseen intimate moments between them from their kitchen makeout scene in 1x13 up until they actually do the deed in 2x12, and possibly even exploring how their relationship changed and strengthened afterwards -- I 100% would name it something else if it ever went up on ao3, but for now, bughead sexcapades is the working title hahahahaa

Who knows, maybe going through my old WIPs thanks to this game might’ve just inspired me to keep writing it aahahaha

Betty had been honest with her mother; the night of Riverdale’s 75th Jubilee, her and Jughead almost had sex when they went back to FP’s trailer. 

They didn’t talk about it beforehand, and really, both had been too distracted by the Black Hood shooting Fred Andrews to properly discuss it with each other afterwards. But somewhere between Betty removing her pink coat and Jughead lifting her up and near-slamming her against the kitchen cabinets, both of them were completely aware of what was about to happen.

But then Jughead changed schools, and there was less time to spend with each other, and the nerves set in. They started making out once or twice, and both of them could feel the urge to connect with each other in the most intimate of ways… but had always been interrupted. 

Their first post-“shirtless in the trailer kitchen” make out was in the Red and Black office; Jughead deepened their kiss and pulled Betty towards his body as he leaned back against a desk - it reminded him of the Blue and Gold, their haven of intelligence gathering (and their place to escape for a few moments alone during school hours). Their near-hookup in FP’s trailer had ignited some kind of flame in both of them; they weren’t as cautious with touching, the familiar comfortability giving both of them the confidence to explore each other’s bodies in their own nervous way - Jughead’s hands strayed from Betty’s cheeks to her neck, then to her waist, and he hoped that maybe he’d get to move his hands even lower...

But still, they’d been interrupted - then, and any other subsequent time, whether by friends or Betty’s mother calling her to come home. So much so that sex seemed like it was going to become an impossible mission that not even Tom Cruise could achieve.

When they had finally found the time to be alone, shortly after Jughead drag raced the Ghoulies and Betty admitted that she didn’t really want to break up with Jughead (in fact, that was not what she’d asked Archie to do), they’d both overthought the possibility of sex so much that neither was certain whether they were actually ready for it, or if their intensifying emotions were the result of the life-threatening happenings in their hometown. 

“We’ll know when it feels like the right time, Betts.” Jughead reassured her after she wiggled out from under him on the trailer’s bed; Jughead had claimed it after FP was imprisoned, but Betty was struggling to think of it as being anything other than Jughead’s parents bed. And something about having sex in it felt... off.

Betty sighed. “I want you, Juggie, I don’t know what’s wrong with me…” 

Less than two weeks earlier she’d practically torn her and Jughead’s shirts off in an effort to get closer to him. But today, lying on her back beneath her boyfriend, on a bed, her thighs cradling is hips as they kissed (hot, open mouthed kisses) as though her body was in control and her brain was just following its lead, sex just seemed so much more real - and the butterflies in her stomach threatened to swallow her up. Betty knew having sex would change something between them that couldn’t be reversed, and she’d only just gotten him back. She didn’t want to risk losing him by doing too much too fast. 

“Nothing! Nothing’s wrong with you.” Jughead said quickly; his eyes betrayed the mild panic he felt. “We both have to be feeling completely comfortable and ready or it’s not going to work out - and I read that on Reddit, so we can reasonably believe it’s true.” He smirked as his eyes met hers. 

Betty giggled. “Did you find a thread called ‘how to have sex’ and use the replies as research?” She brushed a stray lock of hair from Jughead’s forehead. 

Jughead’s cheeks were turning pink. He cleared his throat before speaking. “Well, that’s, ah - that wasn’t the exact title…” 

Betty smiled and reached out to take his hand. “Hey, comfortable, right?” She leaned over and kissed him. Although she still wasn’t completely sure about sex itself, kissing Jughead and feeling his arms wrap around her was a great experience in itself. 

Jughead leaned into her, his body coming dangerously close to pinning her down into the mattress. He groaned quietly as Betty kissed his neck, and Betty felt the sound all the way down her navel, and lower…

He felt Betty lightly pushing his chest, and he rolled onto his back so she could straddle him. His body felt like it was on fire. The feel of her, pressed against him, had him filled with desires he didn’t know could exist. Everywhere Jughead touched her felt hot, and her mouth on his was like a fulfilling heat that awakened every nerve inside him. He trailed his hands down to her hips and pulled her up his body slightly so she was straddling his lower abdomen instead of his lap, fearing that if he left her there then this would be over before it even really started.

Betty pulled away from his mouth, her eyes a mixture of lust and vulnerability that had Jughead’s breath coming out in laboured gasps. “Juggie?” she asked in a breathy moan. 

Oh God and yes were the only words in Jughead’s mind. “Ye-yeah?” He forced out when he could focus. 

“It’s getting kind of late…” She bit her bottom lip for a moment. Jughead’s grip on her hips tightened at the sight. “I could tell my Mom I’m staying over at Veronica’s… that’s if, you know… you don’t want me to go.” Her eyes searched Jughead’s. 

Jughead’s mind was swimming, and he would have been embarrassed that it took him so long to figure out what she meant if he could even think at all. “Um, yes, that's a great idea.” She probably could have asked him to paint himself blue and go to school dressed as a Smurf and he would have agreed, so long as she stayed right where she was. 

Betty smiled and laughed softly. The vibrations sent tingly jolts through Jughead’s body and he couldn’t contain the groan that escaped his mouth. Betty’s eyes lit up for a moment before she blushed and looked down at his chest. She ran her fingers up his chest softly, and Jughead placed his hands on her cheeks to pull her down for another kiss.

This kiss felt deeper than the others. Betty’s tongue slipped into his mouth. One of Jughead’s hands slid into Betty’s hair as the other wrapped around her back. Her chest pressed deliciously up against his. She was so warm, right now and every day. And she freely gave him her warmth, no strings attached. Betty’s love warmed his heart, his body, his mind - he gravitated towards it every day, and gave it back to her in the form of light brushes of fingers, a hand in her hand, a gentle nudging of her shoulder...  

And her smiles… wow.

Jughead’s heart was beating faster than he’d ever felt it beat as Betty started kissing and sucking on his neck. He’d never been so closely entangled with Betty before, and all he wanted was to get even closer. As close as two people could get… 

But he wasn’t going to push the point, not when they both had reasons to hesitate. 

“Can I…” Betty said nervously. “Do you want me to…” her hand slid down his chest, over his hip (his breath hitched as her fingers met the skin where his shirt had ridden up) and rested on his thigh. She squeezed his thigh just a little, and Jughead couldn’t believe how sensitive it was; how good it felt. 

#riverdale fanfiction #bughead fanfiction #bughead #betty and jughead #bughead wip #my fics

[doodlingstuff]

Coffee first?

Very late @aftgexchange gift for @rainbow-0bsidian Here's a Coffee Shop AU featuring an evil autumn-colored crocheted nanna-rug. Hope you like it!

---

"I don't even know why I'm letting you drag me into this. I have a paper due tomorrow." Jean says, tapping furiously into his laptop as if the excessive noise will make him go faster.

"Because the two of you need to go out more often! Unless you are, you know, like together, in which case-"

"Don't even finish that thought." Andrew threatens Dan from his place, smoking on the window.

Dan crosses her arms. She's in the middle of the room, where she can look at both men at the same time. The truth is, she knows they both have lives. Or sort of... But she doesn't want to go alone to meet the cute beefcake from the gym on her first date.

They've been eyeing each other for long enough without saying anything, that in the end, it had been Dan who proposed having coffee in her preferred place.

"Okay. I'm done." Jean announces, closing his laptop. "Move it, Minyard."

"I didn't sign myself to be her chaperon."

"And I'm not going to be their third wheel."

"Guys, come on! I never ask anything from either of you."

Both men turn to shot daggers at Dan. Technically, she spends most of the week asking things, but that is because she's the team's captain, and they're supposed to fall under her command.

"I'll buy you a slice of each cake," Dan says to Andrew. "And I'll help you finish your paper when we return." She adds to Jean. "Can we go now?"

Andrew shrugs before discarding his half-smoked cigarette. Dan feels immediate relief. She won't go alone. Her roommates will be there, and if everything goes to awful hell, she can always count on Allison and Renee to cry all night.

"How do I look?" Dan asks the men. She still has a few minutes to make last-minute changes.

Andrew swipes her from top to bottom and Jean from her shoes to her hair.

"Could be worse."

"Halloween is coming."

Dan feels her belly churning with dread. It must be the boots, or the sweater, or the hair. Or perhaps she overdid her makeup? What if-

"Wilds, no." Andrew breaks the silence. Dan turns to look at him. If she has to give the tiny man credit for something, is that he knows how to dress when he means it. She should've asked for his help. Or Jean.

Oh, for fuck's sake. She's so stupid! She also lives with a French, and she couldn't ask for advice. This Matt guy is turning her into a puddle of uselessness.

"I said no. Let's go." Andrew cuts in again and storms out of the door.

Dan sighs and goes out, ready to fail.

The way goes silent. Andrew and Jean occasionally type something on their phones. They are closer to each other than they are to Dan. Like real bodyguards. At least that gives Dan a bit of security.

She breathes in the chilly morning autumn air and pushes the door of the Fox Coffee Shop, already scanning the tables. There's no sign of her big man yet. She might have a few minutes to steel herself for the stunning view and relax before he-

"What are you doing? Don't leave me with her!" Jean scowls behind her. She turns on her heels to see Andrew leaving the coffee shop.

"Andrew! What are you doing? Andrew!"

Dan is finally thankful for choosing shoes she can run with. She is so worried about being left alone with the cute man that she doesn't pay attention to the sound of windows smashing at her back and hurries more to step in front of Andrew.

"We got a deal! What's wrong with you?"

Andrew only lifts a brow. It would've been enough to make Dan step aside if she didn't know him so well already, and she hadn't noticed the faint blush on his cheeks.

"Can we go back? I got a date."

"Go ahead. I don't." There's the faintest of inflections in the last part. Dan would've asked if she only had time. Right now, she wants her date to be perfect, and it's coming pretty bad from before the start.

"I'll also get you fancy ice cream when I'm done. Andrew, come on, I need you."

The man looks from Dan's face to the coffee shop at the back. His cheeks blush again.

"Is he worth it?"

"I'll never know if we don't meet."

"Chocolate fudge, rocky road, brownie, and cookie chips. Plus the cakes, and I reserve the right to stab him if he isn't worth it."

"Awesome. You're the best. Come on; he must be there."

Dan makes her way back to the coffee shop, feeling pounds lighter with Andrew going willingly behind her. However, the relief doesn't last long.

There's a crowd of people at the entrance of the place. Dan makes way for her and Andrew to see what's the source of the commotion. A million scenes cross her mind. All of them, except the one with Jean on the floor, cursing in angry French at a blond man who's pressing gauze to his forehead.

"I can't take care of that cut if you keep moving, you know?" The blond says.

"Leave my head alone and get rid of that stupid rug!" Jean protests.

Dan looks at the spot pointed by Jean. There's a crumpled autumn-colored crocheted nana-rug on the floor.

"As if it was the rug's fault that you can't see where you put your feet. Or your whole body, for that matter." Interjects a small man from aside. He gives a few steps to get close to the window that apparently, met Jean's head. "At least you hit with the wall and didn't break the window."

"Neil, can you go back to attending orders?" The blond man asks, still busy attending Jean.

At her back, Dan hears Andrew muttering "Neil" to himself.

"I'm not cleaning his blood." The man -Neil-, says as he goes back to the counter.

Dan doesn't pay any more attention to him and crouches beside Jean. "What happened?"

"I wanted to catch Andrew before he ran away and slipped with their stupid rug. Who puts a rug in the middle of a coffee shop?"

"I did; any problems?" Neil replies from the back of the counter.

"You are a problem!" Jean shouts at the same time that Andrew says it, already in front of Neil. The blush has extended from his cheeks to his ears.

"It's just an attitude problem," Neil says, quieter, only for Andrew to hear, but the whole shop is still silent with the commotion.

"I'll still solve you," Andrew says with a casual shrug that can fool anyone but Dan or Jean.

"At least buy something before."

The blond man. Jeremy reads his tag, just puts his head inside his hands. "This job is going to kill me."

At that moment, Dan can see the instant shuffle in Jean. When he sees the exhaustion in Jeremy, he also goes slack against the wall, all tension between him, the rug, and Neil instantly gone. "I'm sorry for causing you trouble, love. It's just- Andrew's impossible, and our girl Dan here is having her first date with a guy from the gym."

Dan can't think anymore. She doesn't even know what's going on. Jean and Jeremy are holding hands on the floor, and Andrew is having a heavy staring contest with Neil at the counter.

"Love?" Is all she can mutter.

"We've been dating for weeks. We didn't want to tell you because I thought you liked him." Jean says.

"I- What?"

"You come here so often that I thought you might come for me? It wouldn't be the first time. And I know it wouldn't be because of Neil; he doesn't seem your type." Jeremy explains.

Dan feels dumbfounded. Her knees are about to give up below here. This can't be happening.

"I come here because of the morning views, the warm lattes, the pecan pie, and the free Wi-Fi! And I have a fucking date with a super hot guy who's like seven feet of glorious muscle crowned with a perfect smile and the most hilarious sense of humor. Why would I even look at you? No offense, Jean, I can see the appeal."

"Do you think all that of me?" Asks a deep voice behind Dan.

"Fuck me now," Dan mutters to Jean's and Jeremy's entertainment.

"Uh... Thought we could have coffee first? But I can do that too if that's what you want. I mean, who wouldn't? You're like a goddess."

"I- Wh- So- Do you really think I'm a goddess?"

"Hell yeah, I've been wanting to ask you out since spring but thought like your friend's boyfriend that you were into him and I-"

"Shut up and kiss me."

Dan doesn't think as she talks and pulls Matt in for a kiss.

All her nerves melt as soon as their mouths meet. It's so much better than anything she had imagined. Not that she'd put too many thoughts into picturing herself with Matt, but it's everything she ever dreamt of and then some.

"You could do the same someday." Dan listens to Andrew deadpan to Neil. She bursts into laughter at the same time as Matt.

The kiss breaks, but their hands remain holding as they go to get their drinks and officially start their date.

It looks like this date won't be a total failure after all.

#aftg exchange #late gifts #my fic #aftg fanfic #aftg fic #aftg fandom #aftg trilogy #aftg #all for the game #the raven king #the foxhole court #the kings men #neil josten #andrew minyard #andrew x neil #dan wilds #matt boyd #jean moreau #jeremy knox #my writing

[crowdedimagines]

Leaked Pt. 2 - Harry Styles

PART ONE

Harry and I follow Gemma back into the house. I cross my arms over my chest, fighting the chill from outside that seems to linger in my bones now. We take a seat back at the table, everyone seems to be stressed and tired of talking, I don’t blame them. I’m thankful Harry and I got a break from it.

“Alright, so we were able to detect what they had access to and what was downloaded from the online server.” Andrew, whose name I learned, says looking at both Harry and I to explain.

“So what else did they get?” Harry questions, he sits up a little straighter in his chair.

“It looks like they also had access to some audio files.”

“Audio files?”

“What? The studio version of medicine?” I tease, assuming that whatever it was can’t be too bad. Harry’s had songs leak before, even if it’s something that ended up being scrapped it can’t be the end of the world. It can’t be as bad as a leaked image of us across twitter.

“No, it looks like they only took several files dated July 15th of 2019.”

“July 15th?” I raise my brows.

“What happened-” Harry starts to question the significance, but it instantly clicks for me. All of the humor and lightheartedness I had is knocked right out of me.

“Fuck-” I pull my hair back over my shoulder. The chill that clung to my bones is gone now, now I can feel myself break out into a sweat. Harry turns to look at me and as soon as our eyes meet I can tell that it’s clicked for him as well.

“It’s our song” Harry states, his voice so quiet that I’m sure not everyone in the room caught it. His voice is soft and low, barely registering.

“Your song?” Anne prompts, her face full of concern as she notice’s the color that’s completely drained from our faces.

“Can we clear out the room for a few minutes?” Harry asks, he takes his hand in mine and nods for Anne and Gemma to fill the seats that have now been vacated.

“Can I?” Harry looks at me for permission before continuing. I give him a soft smile and nod, at this point I’m glad they’ll know. I’d rather they know than the whole world.

“July 15th was the day Y/n and I got back from the hospital.” Harry swallows, “The day before Y/n had suffered a miscarrige.”

The silence in the room is louder than I could’ve expected. Gemma and Anne look at each other, obviously shocked before turning their attention back to us. Their expressions seem just as solemn now.

“So the audio file is?” Gemma looks between us confused.

“So together we wrote a song for our daughter.” I nod, tears slipping without being able to stop them.

“It was really therapeutic, I think we both sobbed through practically the whole thing.” He looks to me and I just nod and agree. Harry’s hand still hasn’t left mine.

“I’m sorry that you guys had to find out this way.” I pull my head up to finally make eye contact. Tears are still slowly streaming, but I’m able to blink past them, “We had been so excited to tell you guys that we were expecting and it was only a few weeks after that we had already lost her.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Anne says, her eyes filling up with tears of her own at this point.

“So this was right before you guys broke up.” Gemma realizes, “Is that-?”

She doesn’t seem to be able to finish her own thought. The air in the room is a little too heavy. If I wasn’t drained before, I am now.

“Partly.” Harry nods.

“It wasn’t a lie that the stress of always being apart tore us apart, but going through something like that and then having to fly across the world. We didn’t get to heal from that together, and it ruined our relationship.”

Third Person POV

Slowly the group makes their way back in. Harry makes it very clear to all of them that they need to do everything in their power to stop that audio file from seeing the light of day. It crushed him to see the defeated look on Y/n’s face. She looks exhausted. Harry can’t pull his eyes from her saddened face every couple of seconds. The last thing he wants is for her to feel emotionally exposed as well as physically.

“Y/n, why don’t we go off to bed.” Anne gets up from her spot and places a gentle hand on the younger girl's shoulder. She only nods and lets Anne lead her up stairs. No one else at the table comments, no one dares. Harry’s eyes follow her as Anne wraps an arm around her shoulder and they walk up the stairs.

Anne leads her to Harry’s room, knowing that she was bound to stay there after everything that’s happened today. No one can blame her for being so tired, it was only a few hours ago that she landed. She’s had her body exposed to the world and now there’s the potential for one of the most intimate parts of her to be exposed as well. Today has been the day from hell for Y/n.

Y/n changes into one of Harry’s shirts and tucks herself in under the covers. It’s been over a year since she’s been in this bed. Anne comes back in to check on her, noticing her eyelids are falling heavy as they talk.

Anne curls up in the sitting chair on the other side of the master bedroom. It doesn’t feel right to leave her alone right now in this state and she doesn’t exactly feel like participating in the conversations downstairs anymore. It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth hearing people speak so casually over something so personal.

It’s a few hours later when Harry makes his way upstairs and he’s surprised to see either of them in his room. He looks like the definition of exhausted. His mom looks up from her book and glances over to see that Y/n is still asleep.

“Is she alright?” Harry asks, looking at the girl curled up in his bed.

“She will be.” Anne sets down the book. She pulls the blanket off of her shoulders and folds it up neatly.

“Did you guys get anything decided?” Anne questions, making her way over to her son by the door.

“Yeah, Jordan and Jeff both agree that it might be in our best interest to release a statement. If it gets out we’ll obviously need to address it. They want to talk it over again tomorrow morning once Y/n is feeling a bit better.”

“Sounds great, love.” Anne presses a soft kiss to his cheek before letting herself out.

Harry breaks his stare on the love of his life so he can get ready for bed himself. He brushes his teeth and does his night routine as quietly as he can. From what he remembers, it always used to wake Y/n up anyway, but she’s exhausted.

He finally finishes up and hovers over his side of the bed, unsure if he should cross that line. Sure she’s laying in his bed, but that doesn’t mean it’s an open invitation for them to share the bed.

“Just get in already.” Her voice surprises Harry. Her eyes didn’t even flinch to open. Harry doesn’t need to be told twice, he slides in on his side.

“What are we going to tell the fans?” Her voice a soft echo in the silence.

Harry lets out a long sigh, moving to lay on his back.

“I don’t know. How much do we want them to know? Neither of us have ever let the fans in like this before.”

“But aren’t they going to figure it out anyway? We know that they’re smart, and our lyrics were hardly veiled.”

“I think I would rather tell them. If we can’t stop it from getting out there, I would want to avoid as many conspiracy theories as possible. How do you feel about it?”

Y/n reaches out her hand to connect it with Harry’s. His head snaps over to look at her and she’s staring down at where her fingers fiddle with his rings.

“I feel comfortable with that. The whole world is going to know now.”

His words fill the silence, Y/n only letting out a sigh in response.

“I should call my parents and let them know. Y/S/N too. They deserve to know before the story breaks.”

Y/n shifts back onto her side facing away from him, letting Harry’s hand drop in the process. He turns to his side, facing the same direction as her. She turns back, looking over her shoulder towards him.

“Thank you.” Her voice a soft whisper, her eyes meeting his after glancing over his bare chest.

“What for?” He clears his throat, his voice catching from speaking so softly.

“For being you Harry. For being understanding and loving in spite of everything.” She turns back to rest her head back on the pillow, “I don’t think there’s anyone else I would want to have to go through this with.”

Harry scoots closer, he hovers his arm over her waist before settling it when there weren’t any protests. Y/n places her hand on top of his, holding it securely against her.

“I will always love you, Y/n. I wish we didn’t have to go through this, but I’m glad to have you too.”

Those are the last words they exchange that night.

Y/n’s POV

The sun is rising, alerting me that I need to get up and get ready. I manage to snake my way out of Harry’s grasp before he can wake up as well. I make my way to the bathroom and take a long shower.

“Jordan brought in your suitcase last night.” Harry informs.

“Oh, great. Thank you!”

He simply nods before going into the bathroom himself to get ready for the morning. I wrap the towel a little tighter around my body and quickly make my way downstairs to grab my bag. By the time I get back to Harry’s room I can hear the water running in the shower. It gives me enough time to get dressed and escape down to the kitchen before he exits.

“Good morning!” Anne smiles from her spot at the stove.

“Morning.” I smile, I take a seat next to a sleepy Gemma.

“This coffee isn’t even helping.” Gemma groans, throwing her head on my shoulder and closing her eyes.

“That’s because Mum made it.” Harry says as he walks in with a wet head, “Have Y/n make the next batch. That’ll surely get you wide awake.”

“Sounds like an excuse to get my world famous coffee if you ask me.” I eye him with a smile.

“You caught me, love.” He grabs plates for everyone and starts setting the table, noticing his mother is getting close to being done with all the food. I tap Gemma softly on the shoulder so I can get up and make a new pot of coffee. Harry always used to tell me my coffee was his favorite, it always packed a punch.

We all settle at the table, Harry with a large mug of the hot coffee.

“Anne, everything looks wonderful.” I smile looking over everything she’s prepared.

“Thank you.” She grins.

We all dig in, too hungry to prolong it anymore.

“What time is everyone getting here?” I ask, mainly waiting for Harry to answer.

“Within the hour.”

“Have you guys decided what you’re going to do?” Gemma sets down her fork to look at the both of us, prompting me to turn and look at Harry.

“We’re going to tell the fans. We want them to hear it from us, take away the power from the person who hacked my phone.” Harry explains.

“Yeah, that reminds me. I need to call my parents.” I dab the corners of the mouth with a napkin before excusing myself.

Harry’s POV

I watch as Y/n leaves the room to make the call privately.

“So, how is she?” Anne asks, focusing on me.

“With all things considered, I think she’s doing alright.” I take a sip of the coffee that’s still warm, “We both agreed that we’re going to tell the fans today. Clarify a few things.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” Gemma nods.

“Me too. It’s nice having her here again.” My mum smiles looking at me.

“Mum, don’t go there.” I warn.

“I didn’t mean anything by it!” She defends, “I just said it’s nice.”

“She’s right.” Gemma chimes in, “Y/n has always been our favorite. We all know that your story with her is far from over.”

I simply shake my head, knowing better than to argue with these two. It’s a short while later Y/n makes a reappearance, her eye’s red and puffy.

“Alright, everyone’s in the know.” She sighs.

Right on que there’s a knock on the door. I’m sure it’s just starting that our teams are showing up. Ready to start a new day.

“Alright, so Harry said that you guys agreed on putting out a statement. We can get started on that today. We need to decide how we want to do it, we have a few options.” Jordan explains, “We can type up a statement from both of you and release it on social media or if you guys wanted to say something.”

“Like a video?” Y/n asks.

“Exactly. It’s totally up to you guys, it’s a matter of preference.” Jeff cuts in, “Sometimes it's a little more comfortable to do it that way so you can say exactly what you want and people can hear your tone, but at the same time it’s a lot more personal this way.”

“What do you want to do?” Y/n suddenly turns to get my opinion.

“I’m fine with either-”

“C’mon, what’s your head saying.” She has a soft knowing smile on her face. I smile back at her because how could I not.

“I think that if we’re coming clean and trying to be honest about things, it could be good to have it actually coming from our mouths.”

“I agree.” She turns back to look at Jordan and Jeff, “So how exactly do we go about that?”

“So we’ll start by-”

Jeff stops speaking as his phone buzzes, he glances down quickly and his eyes widen for a second. Whatever it is it’s enough to have completely captured his attention.

“What is it?” I ask, I start spinning one of my rings subconsciously. It takes what feels like minutes of pure silence, but in actuality it’s only a few seconds for him to answer.

“The audio file is out.”

Fuck.

~

i’m sorry for all the switching of POVs but that’s the best way i felt I could communicate how i wanted things to go. 

PART 3?!?! how are we feeling? mini series?

#harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #Harry Styles

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

🧰🔧PAUL IN BLUE OVERALLS🔧🧰

Prompt: One innocent sexual fantasy will lead Y/N directly into “Paul’s” faithful services.

Word Count: Long-ish

Pairings: Drew McIntyre x Reader

Warnings: +18, smut, sexual fantasy, roleplay, oral sex (female and male receiving), masturbation (male and female), cursing, name calling.

Tag: @akiko-tanaka , @blondekel77 , @marlananicole , @theworldofotps , @new-zealand-chic , @drew-is-boo

Notes: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU *clap, clap*. Today is @drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan birthday and what better way to celebrate it than with a Daddy McIntyre smut? This whole idea came from one (of the many) conversations Des and I have, she casually mentioned this and I wanted to use it as a birthday gift to her for being such an amazing friend to me 🥰 Thank you Des, for everything and here’s to many more smutty birthdays yet to come 🥂😘. Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories on my Masterlist if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and my newest story as a fixed post. Okay,now let’s get to the fun part, shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

“Tell me one secret fantasy you have” Drew smirked

“If I tell you then it’s not a secret anymore is it?” I smugly smiled

“C’mon, Y/N! What’s wrong with you telling your husband a fantasy that you have?”

“I don’t have any” I lied

“Bullshit, everyone has it! And I find it hard to believe that you don’t have any with the amount of sex we have” He smirked

“Ok fine, I have it!”

“Ha! I knew it!” Drew proudly grinned

“But I won’t tell you”

His grin faded away “Why?”

“Because no, Drew” I start to scroll through my phone pretending to do something important

“I know you’re using your phone to avoid me, you know?!” He cackled

“Tell me one of yours then” I say, refusing to talk about my fantasy

“I always tell you my fantasies, woman!”

“Well-“ I start, but Drew interrupts me

“And you always make them come true so why don’t you tell me yours so I can do the same? Y/N, my love. We’re married for fuck sake! Why are you acting like a peasant girl who’s ankles I just saw?” He chuckled and I huffed

“C’mon princess, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s just me, love” He coos

“Promise me you won’t laugh?”

“I promise. Scouts word” He crosses his chest

“Ok, so I... I always thought about you know...I always wanted to fuck a porn star. But, those trashy ones, with the cheesy lines, like where the guy is a plumber or a construction worker or even the gardener” I can feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment

The room is silent, too silent. So I look up at Drew to find him struggling to hold back a laugh but failing completely when he meets my eyes

“You promised me you wouldn’t laugh!” I got up from the couch to leave the room, but Drew was faster, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards his lap

“No! I don’t want to talk to you! I’ll never tell you anything ever again Andrew!” I fight to free myself from his hand, but it was pointless. He successfully made me sit on his lap

“I’m not laughing at your fantasy love, I’m laughing at your reaction to it” He chuckled

“Shut up!” I bitterly said

“You looked so cute, all embarrassed like that because of a pretty simple fantasy. My peasant girl” He teased

I look at him with a frown and a pout

“Awww, don’t make that face, love. I could never laugh at you, you know that” Drew smooch me “Why haven’t you told me before?”

“Because it’s dumb and embarrassing!” I mumbled

“No it isn’t!” He hugged me tighter “It’s a simple fantasy. It shouldn’t take us long to put it together and-“

“We’re not doing it!” I cut him off

“Why not?”

“Because” I sigh “I’m gonna feel stupid doing it and it will turn me off” I lied so maybe he’ll let it go

“Y/N, baby c’mon, don’t be so grumpy” He tries to convince me “There’s no reason for you to feel ashamed, love. We’ve done way worst than that!” He lightly chuckled, trying to lift my mood up

“Can we drop it for now?” I look into his piercing blue eyes “Please, Drew?”

“Ok, ok...I dropped it” He reluctantly said as he caresses my thigh

ONE WEEK LATER

“You have got to be fucking kidding me” I muted under my breath

“Drew?” I call

“Yep” He peeks through the door

“This damn thing is leaking” I pointed towards the en suite bathroom faucet

“Oh shit, that’s why I heard some water dripping last night”

“Really babe?” I ask exasperated

“What? I thought it was one of the cats!”

I rolled my eyes “I already tried everything and it won’t stop. We have to call a plumber”

“Ok, I’ll call one”

I give a little tug on his t-shirt, a sign for him to lean down so I can kiss him “Thank you. I have to go or I’ll get late” I kiss him again

“Ok. Oh, I may not be here when you come back. I‘m gonna work out in the afternoon”

“Ok baby, have a nice day” I smiled

“Oh I will, love. And you will too” He smirked

And I make my way downstairs utterly confused with what Drew just said.

......................................................................

I got home from work and Drew, faithful to his word, wasn’t there. I make my way upstairs to our bedroom so I can take a shower and relax, when the sight of a pair of black worn out boots and blue overalls made me stop at the foot of the bed.

A man had his face tucked into the underside of the sink, while his hands fidget with the siphon. The position of his hands made impossible for me to look at his face.

*I can’t believe Andrew left a stranger alone in our house! I’m gonna kill you Drew* I thought

I was growing a little nervous to be alone with this strange man at my house. He was huge! Tall and broad and a part of me got a little intimidated by it, but I swallowed my fear and asked

“Excuse me, sir?” I voice was trembling

He grunts in response

“I’m sorry, I- I don’t mean to interrupt your work but could you please tell me when are you going to be done?” My voice was still shaky

“I don’t know, it depends” He answer with a thick foreign accent

“Depends on what, sir?” I murmured

“If the lady will want the complete service” He got up from the floor and my mouth dropped

“ANDREW, YOU FUCKER! YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME!” I yelled

“Name is Paul, miss” He comes closer

“This is not funny, you know? Jesus Christ, I thought you left a stranger here by himself. And I was scared as fuck, thinking I would be alone with this random man at home..” I trail off as he stopped in front of me

“Will you want the complete service, miss?”

“Complete service?” I mumbled

He only smirked

“What is the complete service?” I whispered

“Well, I can help you with your wetness situation” Drew tilts his head to the side to stare at my ass “It will only take a long, thick and hard pipe” He grabs a handful of his bulge

And I couldn’t help but laugh

“Drew, don’t be ridiculous, lo- Oh shit!” I gasp in surprise with his hand laying forcefully against my ass cheek

“I already told you the name is Paul, miss”

He was so into this roleplay thing that I decided to not be the cock block and play along.

“Look, Paul” I begin and he happily smiled “I don’t know what services you want to offer but, I’m married” I pointed to my wedding ring

“I’m not jealous” He smirked

“But he is” I respond

He shake his head “He will only be if he finds out. I’m not gonna tell him, are you?” The determination upon his gaze was, to say the least, lustful.

“I’m not gonna tell him, because nothing will happen” I play hard to get

“Are you sure?” He tilted his head to stare at my backside once more “I’ve seen that pathetic excuse of what you call husband and I’m absolute certain he can’t handle all of that” He points with his chin to my ass

“He can” I weakly said

Drew arched his eyebrow “Can he though? Are you trying to convince me or yourself of that, sugar?” He cackled “You see, to me, it looks like you need a real man to fuck you, to ruin you, to make a good use out of that sweet pussy” He grabbed his erection through the fabric, easily taking a handful “And I’m a real man sweetheart” He took my hand, making me cup his hard on “This cock will fill you up in ways you never thought it was possible before. It will make you forget about that pitiful husband of yours. This dick will make you feel like a real woman being fucked by a real man, it will make you feel so fucking good you will never want him to touch you again” He smirks

And all I can do is squeeze his length in consent.

Drew quickly undressed me, tossing me onto the bed as he pulled the overalls down his torso painfully slow. The vision of his dark hair laying around his broad shoulders, his bare chest and abdomen with the upper part of the overalls around his hips made me moan

“Fuck babe, you look so fucking hot like that! I’m one lucky bitch!” I murmur, making him lowly growl and attack my lips in a famished kiss

Drew traveled his lips along my neck, collarbone, top of my breasts and nipples.

He holds both breasts on his hand, squeezing them together so he can fastly go from one nipple to the other.

He licked, sucked and lightly scraped his teeth on each bud, kneading the soft flesh underneath his palms and fingers with gentle yet firm touches.

He roamed down to my mound. Reaping my lace panties apart so he can stare at my leaking core.

“Look at this beautiful pussy” Drew gave me a long lick “Are you dripping like this just from playing with your tits, love?”

I nod “Yeah, because you’re so fucking good at it”

He smirked and placed a gentle kiss on my clit, making me whine.

“You’re so responsive, I love that” He gives me some kitten licks before continuing “I bet that jackass husband of yours never eats this pussy, does he?”

I shake my head, making Drew click his tongue in disapproval.

“What a shame, love. Such a beautiful, sweet, wet pussy just waiting to be eaten” He gave me a long teasing lick “Would you like that, princess? Would you like me to eat your pussy until you cum all over my mouth?”

“Yes, please” I panted

Drew stepped back to get rid of the overalls and underwear. He slides his length along my folds to collect some of my wetness so he can touch himself as he eats me out.

He kneels down on the floor, pulling me closer to the edge of the bed by my hips, Drew closed one fist around his cock and pumped up and down as his mouth closed around my clit, making me roll my eyes to the back of my head.

I moan and he growls, my growing need for release becoming unbearable until...he stops.

“What the fuck?” I faintly asked as I see him kneeling down on the bed.

I was feeling confused, until I felt two of his fingers sinking into my core as his palm rested against my clit, slightly pressing into it.

Drew pulled me by my hair until my lips were on his cock, making me open my mouth so he can slide in.

I hummed in pleasure from both his taste and his fingers pace. The slapping sounds of his fingers and palm against my pussy was pornographic.

I bob my head faster and apply more pressure into his cock’s head making him moan my name loudly.

“Fuck, stop Y/N, stop damn it!” Drew yanked me off of him with a hard tug on my hair

He got up from the bed, pulled me down by my ankles and fastly turned me onto my stomach. I feel his weight on the mattress behind me as he places himself between my legs, quickly entering my core with one hard thrust.

“Oh fuck” I whine

Drew grabs two handfuls of my ass, keeping me in place while he mercilessly pound me. He leaned down, pressing his cheek to mine

“You like being fucked like this don’t you?” He grunted “You love being such a good little whore for me, right princess?”

“Yes, sir”

“Say it!”

“I love being such a good little whore for you, sir” I panted

Drew smacked my ass and placed both of his hands around my neck to both to use it as leverage for his thrusts.

“Who’s fucking this pussy so good, huh?”

“You are, sir”

“And what does a good whore says, Y/N?”

“Thank you, sir” I mumbled

“That’s right, baby” He chuckled

Drew hits my g-spot making me scream

“Oh fuck, it feels so good. You’re fucking me so good, sir! Oh please, don’t stop. Thank you, sir...thankyouthankyouthank” I babble

“You’re gonna cum, Y/N? That’s why you’re clenching so good around my cock baby?”

I nod as much as I can “Please, sir. Let me cum, I beg you” I whined

“You’re look so beautiful, princess. So fucking precious. Cum, love”

I feel numb, almost in an outer body experience from the orgasm ecstasy as I feel Drew release in me. He’s growls and grunts only making the post orgasmic bliss last longer.

I feel him carefully pulling out of me and a few minutes after the warm washcloth cleaning me up.

When he lays down on the bed by my side I mumbled half asleep

“You’re something else, Scotsman”

Drew laughs pulling me up so I can rest my head on his chest.

“The idea was yours, princess”

“But you executed perfectly” I coo

“Well, thank you” He cackled “Was this enough to make you lose your embarrassment to tell me your fantasies?”

“Mhm, if this is going to be the final outcome, I’ll make sure to write them down so you can perform each and every one of them”

“I would like that, love” He chuckled lightly, kissing my forehead as I swim into a deep slumber

Dreaming of a certain plumber named Paul....

Please let me know your thoughts on this and leave me some feedback if you’re comfortable with it 🥰😘

#drew mcintyre imagine #drew mcintyre smut #drew mcintyre fanfic #drew mcintyre x oc #drew mcintyre x reader #drew mcintyre one shot #drew galloway #drew mcintyre #wwe x reader #wwe smut #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction #wwe one shot #masochist writes

[purrgara]

for that fic trope mashup: bathtub fic and secret relationship for shyan 👀

- bigboybergara

This got angstier and longer than I had originally planned so uh--oops. Enjoy? |D

More Than Anything

Relationship: Shyan, Mentioned Standrew Tags: Insecure Ryan, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, secret relationship Tropes: Bathtub fic, Secret relationship

There was something intimate about it all. Intimate in a way that they hadn’t been all week. It was something about being close to each other while the cameras were still rolling. Something he couldn’t quite place. Something that made his tongue feel too big for his mouth and his palms sweaty. “I can’t believe the jets don’t work. We’re literally just taking a bath together.”

Ryan was laughing it off, desperately trying to defuse the tension building between them. The tension suffocates Shane with each second that ticks by. But the cameras weren’t filming now and Shane couldn’t bring himself to laugh back. Couldn’t bring himself to look it in the eye for fear of what he might see. “Yeah. Weird right?” No. That was wrong. They’d bathed together before.

Wrong wrong wrong but he couldn’t make the right words. He didn’t know what to say. So he pulled himself up and stepped out of the lukewarm water. He could feel Ryan’s eyes on his back. Knew there was a question in the down turn of his mouth. It was too intimate. Too close. The cameras weren’t rolling, but they had been.

—

“Why does it bother you so much?” Shane wanted to pretend he hadn’t heard the soft question, but he knew Ryan would be able to tell he wasn’t asleep yet. Instead he made a soft noncommittal sound. It didn’t bother him. It really didn’t. “Shane.”

Another long pause then Ryan sighed and rolled over so his back was pressed against Shane’s. The heat of it a scorching line through his shirt. “Goodnight, big guy…” he wanted to pretend he didn’t hear the hesitation in his voice. Pretend he couldn’t hear the hurt just under the surface, but he could. And he did and it felt like something in his chest shriveled up and died.

“Night, Ry.” He clenched his eyes shut at the pain behind his sternum. He was fucking this all up, he knew it. Could practically taste it in the air between them. Why does it bother you so much? Because—because because because.

Because when the cameras were filming they weren’t Shane and Ryan anymore. They were ‘Shane and Ryan’. They were skeptic and believer. They were best friends. Ghoul boys. When they were filming they had a reputation to uphold. They had the integrity of the show to think about.

When they weren’t filming they just— they weren’t. When they weren’t filming they were allowed to be themselves. He was allowed to be Shane, and Ryan was allowed to be Ryan. And they weren’t expected to keep up that carefully constructed dynamic. They were allowed to be Shane and Ryan and be ‘Shane and Ryan’ and they just—no one else needed to know they were.

“I—love you?” His heart cracked open because it sounded like a question and Shane hated it. Hated that he’d made Ryan question it, question them, at all. He felt sick as he carefully rolled over, the warmth of Ryan’s back slipping away. Shane saw his shoulders tense and it struck him again that Ryan didn’t know. He couldn’t know because Shane didn’t tell him. Couldn’t tell him.

He slipped an arm over his waist and pulled Ryan closer. Buried his nose in barely damp hair and held on tight. The static cam blinked innocently at the end of the bed and there’d be so much footage they wouldn’t be able to use but Shane pushed that to the back burner. He pushed away the anxiety of editing but he just didn’t care. Because he couldn’t let Ryan think he didn’t love him. Couldn’t let him think that was what Shane’s hang up was. “Love you more than anything.” It was muttered into Ryan’s hair, pressed into his skin like a benediction.

God he hoped Ryan understood.

Why does it bother you so much?

Because no one else deserves to see what you mean to me.

—

“Did you see the Instagram post Steven made?” There was a carefully constructed wall around Ryan’s question. One that sent up red flags immediately in Shane’s head. Beside him Ryan kept scrolling through Twitter, head pillowed against Shane’s arm, but he was too nonchalant. His eyes were too focused, in the way you knew they weren’t really looking at the phone screen.

“The one about him and Andrew? I did.” He cleared his throat and rubbed a hand over his nose. “I’m happy for them.” Ryan made a soft ‘hmm’ noise in the back of his throat as Shane set his own phone down. Every fiber in his body was screaming ‘ABORT ABORT ABORT’ but his mouth was, once again, out to completely ruin him. “Better him than me.”

Ryan stiffened against him before he roughly jerked away. “What’s that supposed to mean?” There was a bite to his tone mirrored in his eyes. Shane wished he had the right words but everything kept coming out wrong.

“I just mean that Steven’s more suited for it.” The alarms were blaring.

“It.” Oh. Oh no. No no no he wanted to back track. Wanted to explain himself better but he couldn’t get the words out before Ryan was pulling away. Rising to his feet with his hands clenched at his sides. “Well sorry you’re not suited for it.” He snapped, turning on his heel and storming toward the hotel bathroom.

The door slammed shut before Shane could even get off the couch. Shit. Shit shit shi— “That isn’t what I meant!” But the door stayed shut and the sound of the shower running drained out his words.

—

“Ry?” Shane asked tentatively almost an hour later as he stood outside the bathroom door. “I just meant the spotlight suited them better. Ryan, please open the door.” For the longest time there was no sound other than the shower water running, then a soft, barely there hiccup.

Shane’s stomach fell to his feet. Oh. It didn’t take much to scare Ryan, not really, but to make him cry? “Fuck.” It was breathed out as he pressed his forehead to the door. Trying the knob it gave with a light click. “Baby? I’m coming in alright?” He hesitated long enough for Ryan to protest if needed. When none came Shane slowly opened the door and sighed at the sight before him.

The shower curtain was wide open, Ryan sitting in the tub with his back under the spray. His knees were drawn up to his chest with his chin hooked over top. They let the silence stretch on longer as Shane came over, hesitating only briefly before climbing into the tub to sit opposite Ryan.

Drawing his own legs up, Shane wrapped his arms around them and muttered softly, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t talking about our relationship Ry.” A small understanding nod and a small hitched breath was the only reply for a few minutes.

“Why does it bother you if people know?” Ryan asked on a sharp intake of breath. His voice broke on the last word and Shane felt sick with the sound. “About this? Us?” A puffed out humorless laugh and then, “Are you ashamed of me?”

“What? No! That’s not—no!” Dread gripped at his lungs and he couldn’t breathe. “I’m not ashamed of you, or us, or anything like that! I just—I meant that I couldn’t… I couldn’t do it. Not like Steven or Andrew can.” This wasn’t how he wanted to approach the subject. It wasn’t how he wanted to admit it and the nausea was almost unbearable.

Dark eyes looked up though clumped lashes and Ryan’s arms slipped tighter around his legs. He looked like a child. The thought struck him like a blow to the chest and Shane could only reach out and trace his knuckles along Ryan’s cheek. “I can’t share you.” It came spilling out like an over filled pot left to boil. Too hot, too much to be contained.

Ryan leaned into the touch with a sigh. “So instead you want to keep our relationship a secret.”

“I don’t want to share you with the world, Ry. No one else needs to know what we have. Andrew and Steven can keep that spotlight. They live for that spotlight. I—don’t. All I need is you, Ryan. All I want is you.” He couldn’t stop the words once they started, couldn’t pull back and rethink. Because if he did that, they wouldn’t be said. And Ryan… Ryan deserved to know. To understand. “I’m not trying to keep us a secret. I just don’t want to post it on fuckin Instagram for the world to scrutinize.”

His hand trailed down and back to wrap around the back of Ryan’s neck. “People, fans, they already suspect something’s between us and you know how they are. If we were to make some big deal about coming out or whatever—“ A harsh breath and a shake of his head, “It’ll be like throwing a meatball to starving wolves. I want to be able to enjoy what we have. I’ve seen couples fall apart after going public and I don’t—I don’t want to resent you, Ry.”

Ryan moved one hand to grip the outside of Shane’s knee as he exhaled slowly. “I don’t want to share you like that, but if that’s what you want,” Ryan looked up sharply, eyes frantically searching Shane’s neutral expression. “I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for you, you know that.” He could feel the tightening in his chest loosen at the admittance. Could feel his fears swirling down the drain as Ryan’s insecurity cracked away.

“I wasn’t meaning to hide you away as some dirty secret. I just wanted to enjoy being with you like a normal person.”

“I don’t need the world to know, Shane.” It was whispered into the small space between their folded knees. “I just want you to stop pulling away from me like you’ve been burned every time we touch on camera. I’m tired of thinking you don’t care about me.” His fingers tightened on the uncomfortably wet fabric of Shane’s pajama pants. “We don’t have to explicitly say anything but I don’t want you pretending we’re less than what we actually are.”

His hand fell away as Shane’s hand tightened around the nape of his neck. “I don’t need to do some public announcement or some grand gesture, I just need you, my boyfriend, beside me.”

Shane nodded numbly as he leaned forward to press his forehead to Ryan’s. “Yeah… yeah okay. I think I can do that.” It was breathed against his lips as Ryan’s curled into a gentle smile.

“I know you can, big guy.” He pressed their lips together before pulling away with a mischievous smile, “You know what else I need?”

“Hmm?”

“To get out from under this water. I’m freezing and pruney.” Shane wheezed out a low laugh and shook his head before pushing himself up to reach behind Ryan’s head and turn the water off. Stepping out of the tub he smiled warmly down at Ryan.

“I’ll get you a towel.” Ryan smiled up at him, open and honest and something warm and gooey melted in his heart. He turned to go back into the hotel room for dry clothes and the fluffy towel in the closet when Ryan’s low voice called back to him,

“Hey, Shane?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to share you, either.” He could hear it clear as a bell. Tucked neatly behind his own words. I love you too. It warmed him from the top of his head down to his own pruney, sopping toes.

The world didn’t need to know what they meant to each other. As long as Ryan knew, and Shane knew, that was all that mattered.

#my writing #shyan #fanfiction tropes #bigboybergara #I really honestly didn't mean for it to get so-- #angsty #mentioned standrew #because of who I am as a person right now #I couldn't help myself #Sorry bout that

[anika-ann]

Conundrum (A.B.)

Type: One-shot, challenge fic

Pairing: Andy Barber x fem!reader    Word Count: 7700 (:

Summary: conundrum - a confusing and difficult problem or question

Andy Barber is a difficult man whom you have yet to understand. He certainly doesn’t make it any easier; and right before Christmas, he manages to surprise you again.

Prompt: You have to look for a gift impromptu

Warnings: a smidge of angst, a drop of awkward humour, mention of death (mild AU - both Laurie and Jacob!), alcohol consumption, feels, explicit language, reader gets called a dumbass... that’s it I hope, lemme know

A/N:  This is my submission for the Happy Hoelidays challenge. There’s no hoeing tho, shame on me. Also, if you want some music to go with this, know that I listened to ‘God I Hope This Year Is Better Than the Last’ by SYML an obscene amount of times.

Andy Barber was an enigma.

Reporters liked to think he wasn’t; almost a year ago, they tore down all the walls he had built up to protect the privacy of his family and they shed light into startingly intimate details of his life – and where they couldn’t shed light, they used their imagination and sold it with a claim of having a reliable source. Naturally, it worked; there were always people willing to believe it just so they obtained more of juicy gossip material.

There were wanabe psychologists who would address his trauma and tried to analyse his personality, the consequences he would suffer in the aftermath of the tragedy, who attempted to strip down his soul just to get a few more reads and generally talked about him as if they were best friends, as if they knew him.

It was all a load of bullshit.

The truth, you thought, was that no one knew him. If you were being honest, you weren’t sure if even his wife ever had, truly – but that was you under the influence of the little information you bothered to gather from the influx of crap that the media provided the public with.

What you believed was that the reporters and all the self-proclaimed experts on him knew nada.

Andrew Barber was and always would remain an enigma; to the public, to the little what remained of his family after the death of his wife and son, to his co-workers – the category which included you. If you could even call yourself a co-worker; you were simply a secretary. Granted, one whose previous employer let her peek over their shoulder quite a bit so you learned a thing or two about law, but Andy Barber was the lawyer. The former DA from Boston, who moved over to rule the DA office of Portland, your home.

Even after having been working with him for nine full months, Andy’s thoughts and feelings didn’t get any easier for you to read or predict. When he wanted to let you know he was disappointed, he did. When he was truly angry with someone, well, he wouldn’t let it go unnoticed either.

Other than that, however, you would have had better luck trying to decode the actual enigma-encrypted messages sent during World War II.

Small talk didn’t last longer than three sentences from you each. Work-related affaires were discussed in his office with politeness and with calm, rather dispassionate mannerism. If you caught a hint of a smile when an important case that helped people went his way (or the office’s way really), you considered it a miracle that sent your heart reeling.

He would sometimes smile only for you if you brought him a coffee without him asking first, simply because he looked like he needed one; at those times, he would thank you softly and let slip in your first name instead of referring to you with your last. Those were your favourite moments.

Well, almost.

You found him with a tumbler and an expensive whiskey on occasion when you were leaving the office late; you never commented on it, but there were four times he actually silently invited you to have a glass with him. You refused the first time and accepted the other three.

Those nights, you got a glimpse of the mystery of a man hidden behind surprisingly soft mannerism, one which was in such a sharp contrast to his shark-like demeanour he displayed in front of the judge and the jury. His scars ran deep, his hopes had been shattered, his life in the past year as bitter as the overpriced liquor. Your heart cracked for him to the point of nearly breaking altogether.

And yet, it was beating for him too; behind all that hurt, you couldn’t but notice certain gentleness. Yes, he could be scary, downright terrifying and when his temper got the best of him, the true rage on display, he was a force to be reckoned with. But oh, that gentleness. The kind shattered soul he hid so well every morning, more so on the days right after your little heart-to-hearts. Trying to build a working relationship with him – a friendship of a sort, anything you wanted to call it – was a game of push and pull and more of a string of guesses than an effort that would bore fruit.

You might have already given up on that and instead, with the ferocity you hadn’t known you possessed, you kept punching the crush you had on him; that silly thing that would always call louder and louder after he revealed a piece of him on one of the precious nights, only to shut you out completely the next morning.

Andy Barber had never even remotely showed a romantic interest in you and by God, did you not blame him for not being interested in anyone at all as far you knew. While you considered yourself a fairly capable worker and half-decent person, you were aware you could never measure up to him. Just another reason to push down the feelings you had for him, ones that seemed to bloom with more intensity whenever he raised the corners of his damn lips, when he asked a question about you during those stupid nights as if he cared— nonsense. You had to get rid of those. He didn’t even like you, barely acknowledged you in the end. Or did he? You honestly didn’t know.

Bottom line was that if you couldn’t get close enough, then the reporters knew jack shit, no matter how much reading on him they had done or how many books on psychology, criminology and law and shit they went through. Many people knew Andrew Barber’s name, but no one could hope to know him.

And yet, those assholes still called and asked about him.

It was the fourth one that day; December 23rd, over a year from the accusation of Jacob Barber, and those fucking vultures still called Andy Barber’s office. They weren’t even good newspapers and news sites anymore; obviously, because every rational decent person would have let the poor man rest. But nope. Not them.

“Portland’s DA office, secretary of Mr. Barber speaking. How may I help you?”

“Oh, wonderful! Is there any chance I could talk to Mr. Barber personally?” the chipper of a man asked on the other end of the line and just by not giving his name, he raised suspicion; was it forgetfulness caused by his distress or intention?

Fortunately for him and unfortunately for you, you had to be polite. Hot-shot lawyers and other important people rarely returned the courtesy, but that was the world you lived in.

“There might be, Mr-?”

“Oh, Connor. Peter Connor.”

“Well, Mr. Connor, what is your legal issue?” you asked patiently, writing down his name automatically.

“Well, you see, I would rather talk with Mr. Barber about—my delicate situation, in private.”

Your eyes narrowed as you stopped scribbling and spared a brief glance towards the door to Andy’s office. It was opened ajar in what could be an invitation, but all blinds on both the door and the windows were down in typical fashion.

Talk in private?

Yeah, not gonna happen. You knew a few tricks that these assholes calling the office tended to pull and whoever this man was, you were growing more suspicious by the minute that he was not seeking legal advice.

You went back to your notes and wrote down the word liar right next to his name and a question mark. Was he a liar? One way to find out you guessed; you caught your phone between your ear and your shoulder, opening a new tab in your browser to google the name along with a wild guess of him being a reporter.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Connor, I’m afraid I will need more information before I put you through. And I will probably need to make you an appointment, my boss is a very busy man-“

“Oh, is he? Lots of cases in Andrew Barber’s new district, huh?”

The blood in your veins was set aflame even before the search was done, because in an instant, you knew for sure.

And then you had it confirmed by the results.

This jerk had even given you his real name, utterly shameless. Sure, he could have only had the same name as the journalist you found, but what were the chances? Two days after you told his colleague – who had made it through your vetting, got an appointment and even got past the reception desk before you spotted him for what he was – to get lost and not try again?

Your pulse skyrocketed along with your blood pressure. Technically, you didn’t owe Andrew Barber anything, but he was respectful enough, didn’t make much trouble and for most time, was an okay boss to you.

You owed him this much: he was a decent guy. Why couldn’t other people show a shed of basic human decency too and leave him the fuck alone?

“That depends, Mr. Connor,” you purred, barely holding the outrage locked inside. You felt both energized by your anger and achingly tired and done with humanity. You rested your elbows on the desk and leaned onto it with a sigh, massaging the bridge of your nose, eyes closed. “Is he going to have to sue your rag of a newspaper or will you and your colleagues finally get the memo and leave. His. Personal. Life. Alone?!”

You most definitely strained the last words through your teeth, but you didn’t care anymore if you were being rude. He was the fourth reporter today ready to ask about Andy’s personal matters. The FOURTH!! He was lucky you didn’t tell him to go fuck himself… explicitly.

“Are you threatening me?” the man demanded, his voice insulted, losing all traced of pretence.

As if you ever. You knew better than that, working with lawyers.

“Nice try, Mr. Connor.  I will thank you to never call this office again unless you have legal issues or a relevant question which you should direct to our PR department anyway. And if you could extend this to all editorial staff, please, preferably to all editorial staff in the United States, that would be splendid. Have a good day. Happy Holidays.”

You slammed the phone down, missing the slot for it, not caring. You were sure he would hang up on his own.

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath and hid your face in your palms, grunting, fingertips sinking into your hair.

“I hope you don’t mean me,” sounded from the doorway and you yelped, honest to god yelped and straightened in your seat, head snapping up-

-only to meet your boss’ curious gaze. Hurt and anger casted shadows over his beautiful cerulean irises, but there was no mistaking the melancholy and resignation on his face either.

“Of course not!” you blurted out quickly, panic rising in your chest.

How much had he heard? Was he going to fire you for being unprofessional? Did he figure out what was this about— of course he did, there was little room left for doubt. Your choice of words was pretty straightforward.

Andy bounced off of the doorframe he was leaning onto, not easing his stance – his arms remained crossed over his chest and had you not been so alarmed, you would have indulged in the sight of his biceps nearly cutting through the seams of his shirt.

“Why do I get the impression that whoever you were talking to was not the first person to call the office to feed on ‘the misery man’ that Andrew Barber is?” he more stated than asked, his tone unmistakably bitter.

You gulped as he approached your desk, nails digging into your palms. You had no idea what to say. Once again, you couldn’t quite read Andy; you had no idea where this was heading and how you should answer without setting him off, making him sadder or even more bitter. And without getting fired, obviously.

“I—uhm, well, I suppose you heard me, so you know he wasn’t the first—Mr. Barber. I apologize-“ His eyebrows rose a fraction and you didn’t dare to analyse why. “-if I was too loud. But--- humanity sucks.”

The moment the last two words left your mouth, you instantly regretted them, snapping your eyelids close and squeezing. You were sure you were about to have bloody crescents in your palms from your nails at this point.

Did you really just say that? To your boss, no less?

Way to go, me.

“Not wrong there. Why don’t you take your lunch break now?” he offered casually.

You nodded as you felt the tell-tale burn of tears forming in your eyes; fuck, this was humiliating. Why had he had to walk in exactly in that moment? And now using that tone?

He didn’t say anything else and you didn’t dare to look at him. Only when you heard him walk back to his office and close the door behind him, you opened your eyes and released the breath you were holding, your heart hammering in your chest.

Gulping and swallowing your tears before they could escape, you grabbed your purse and your coat, rushing out to the cold air of Portland winter.

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Andy didn’t bring up the incident again when you came back. You had a short list of assignments for the upcoming days off which you went over with him before parting ways for the holidays. You mentioned you would probably drop in tomorrow despite not necessarily having to, but wished him Happy Holidays in case you’d miss him during your brief visit.

The corners of his lips twitched at that, but he wished you the same. You supposed his holidays weren’t about to be happy – more like the opposite. Last year, he celebrated with his family, even if it might have been already falling apart. This year however…

Your heart cracked another fraction for the man and you wondered if you should leave some cookies for him in the office tomorrow at least. Then you realized he would probably hate it, either being bitter about feeling like a charity case or hating the reminder of what he had lost, what wasn’t waiting for him at home anymore. Not to mention that maybe even the poinsettia, which you had placed on his office window two days ago and neither of you commented on, was already too much.

The only cookies you baked that night were the ones you knew should stay in a box with apples for over a day, the cookies you were supposed to bring to your sister’s house for Christmas, because your nephew Harry loved them.

With cheesy Christmas songs in the background and a bottle of wine for the party of one, you kneaded the double batch of dough and couldn’t but spare your achingly handsome and likely lonely boss a thought and maybe… maybe a tear or two.

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The office was empty when you arrived on 24th at around half past four; everyone left as soon as possible, which was to be expected. Admittedly, despite not knowing what you would talk about with Andy, you found your heart sinking when you didn’t see light peeking through the blinds of your and his offices. You had expected him to be working to avoid being at home; but then again, you knew next to nothing about him. Maybe he was with a girlfriend. With a boyfriend. With former colleagues. With his deceased wife’s family. It was only assumption of yours that he might be lonely on Christmas.

You shook your head at your train of thought as you unlocked your office, mentally going over which files you needed to bring home, trying to eliminate the amount as not to endanger confidential information by taking them away from the safety of the bureau.

You froze in your tracks when you found a rather large piece of paper folded into a roof on your desk. A note, you realized, frowning and slowly walking to the suspicious object.

There were very few people who could enter your space, namely three: the janitor, you and Andy. The first option was unlikely, the second impossible, the third confusing. You didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just shoot you a text if he needed anything.

You halted in your steps, the air knocked out of your lungs when you noticed that the note was not the only new item on your desk.

There was a box.

A box roughly size of your extended palm. And if you weren’t mistaken… it looked like a jewellery gift box.

“What the hell?” you asked yourself breathlessly, your curiosity getting the best of you; more so as you recognized what was most definitely Andy’s handwriting on the paper.

Andrew Barber, your boss, with whom you weren’t sure what your relationship was – if there was any at all – might have got you jewellery.

Say that again?

A tiny voice in your head told you he might have just used the box for something else entirely, but that didn’t seem to be his style.

So you picked up the gift carefully, almost reverently removing the lid, your heart pounding in your chest, stomach twisting with pleasant anticipation; with the familiar rush that kids feel when opening a present with high hopes of what could await them inside.

Your lips parted in pure shock, you mind turning blank.

There were no words in English language to express how… how absolutely magnificent the bracelet inside was.

Five thin circles with symbols made of slender lines inside, looking like charms, but withing the body of the bracelet, one clasped to the next one with delicate ellipses. The metal reflected the fluorescent lights of the office, glimmering softly, appearing almost fluid, a thin stream of water trapped in a box.

You actually had to blink and it took all your willpower not to pinch yourself, because—how-

How had he known? Where had he got it? Holy mother of Jesus, how much had he spent on it?

And why get you a gift in the first place? You were… acquaintances at best. Yes, there were almost friendly moments, and then there were those nights, but this was---this- you couldn’t even---- think, apparently.

Keeping an eye on the opened box, you gently placed it back on the desk, afraid to even touch the metal itself. You blindly reached into your purse in search for your phone to dial the only number that made sense for you to dial at that moment.

It sure as hell wasn’t Andy’s.

Nothing but a dialling tone sounded for half a minute, the time seemingly endless. You fell heavily into your chair, still staring at the absolutely gorgeous and thoughtful gift.

How did he know?!

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as your sister still didn’t answer the phone and your hand automatically reached for your necklace to toy with.

And that was when it hit you.

Your necklace; one you got from your sister during the period of your biggest obsession with the Divergence series. Two arrows in a circle pointing different directions, the symbol for a ‘divergent’ person. Your eyes wandered over the five circles of the bracelet – scales, an eye, hands connected, a flame, a tree –, an incredulous chuckle escaping you.

But--- you didn’t think he would notice. You didn’t even wear it all the time, rather often, yes, and yeah, perhaps you did have a bit of a bad habit of fumbling with it when nervous-

“Hey sis! What’s up?” Amber’s voice sounded cheerily from the microphone. You jumped in your seat, startled by her as she interrupted your musing. “Please tell me you’re still coming, because Harry wouldn’t shut up about his favourite chocolate chip.”

You cleared your throat, barely able to comprehend what she was talking about, too caught up in your head.

“I—hi. Uhm- I need help actually,” you finally stuttered and you could practically feel her frown even over the phone.

“Oh? Is everything okay? You sound… a little strange.”

“That’s-“ not wrong. You scanned the office and listened in for the tinniest noise, making sure you were still alone. “I’m at the office and I--eh, I found a gift for me.”

“Awww, a secret admirer? Nice!” Amber chuckled, then abruptly stopped. “…unless it’s a stalker. You don’t think you have a stalker, right? Is that why you called me, so I could tell George? He’s not on duty-“

This time you did roll your eyes at the mention of her husband who happened to be a police officer.

“No, Amber, I have no stalker as far as I know. I’m pretty sure I can recognize my boss’ handwriting at this point.”

Nothing but silence could be heard from the other end for a good minute. You bit your lip in anticipation of… something.

And then: “You’re shitting me.”

“Not really-“

“Holy mother of-!” your sister squealed loudly and you winced, instinctively withdrawing from the phone. “Your boss got you a Christmas present?! --Wait. Is it a Walmart card? Because if it is, then this call is pointless, because that’s boring as-“

“No, Amber, he—he gave me a bracelet,” you admitted softly, your gaze once again wandering over the said object. Beautiful. Fragile. Yours, apparently. What?

When Amber only responded with silence again, words suddenly spilled from your lips, all the mixed feelings you had about receiving the bracelet released, relief singing in your veins as you vented.

“And-and it’s actually really beautiful and--- it’s thoughtful, because it has all the fractions from Divergence on it? But not like something you buy for ten dollars, only paying for the copyright or whatever and the quality is shitty, no, I mean--- it looks pretty, eh, delicate.”

It did, awfully so, which was why you still couldn’t make yourself to touch it even if you really, really liked it and wanted to do nothing but to wear it for the rest of your damn life.

“And expensive. I-- I think it might be real silver and…” you wavered, almost scared to share your last observation out loud for it seemed impossible for it to be true. “Amber, you know I looked through a lot of Divergence-related goods so I would know. It- it doesn’t look familiar at all, it’s--- I think it might be custom-made.”

You choked on the last word, tasting so strange on your tongue as you couldn’t quite believe that you were saying it. You felt--- incredulous to put it simply… and touched and- absolutely bewildered.

Silence stretched in the follow-up to your rambling and you felt your brows drawing together.

“…Amber? You there?”

“Oh yeah, I’m here,” she assured you swiftly, mischief curling around the tone of her voice like a smirk on her lips you couldn’t see. “Just wondering how could you not tell me you started sleeping with him-“

“What?! No!” you protested instantly, straightening in the chair. “I’m not—I’m not his sugar baby or whatever! This is not a ‘thank you for letting me fuck you raw’ gift-“

“Not that you would complain from what I heard and saw-“ she hummed playfully.

She was right. But shush!

“Screw you!”

“George does, that’s why we have Harry in the first place,” she sassed you. “But… sis? What kind of a gift it is then?”

And wasn’t that the question.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Well, you should, because from what you told me, you guys aren’t even friends. Nota bene, this isn’t exactly a gift you give to a friend,” she pointed out, addressing one of the million issues concerning the damn (gorgeous) bracelet.

“I-- I guess?” You were sure, in fact. This was something to give to a… well, to a lover, to a partner. “But- Amber, he doesn’t--- that’s not-“

“What did the note say?”

“Huh?”

“You said you recognized his handwriting,” she reminded you slowly as if speaking to a five-year-old. “What does the note say?”

You glanced at the note again noncommittally, remembering exactly what it said. Pretty much nothing. Definitely nothing to go on.

“Uhm… Thank you. Happy Holidays.”

There was a beat of silence, again. “That’s it?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Eloquent.” You rolled your eyes at her sarcastic tone. She should see him at court. True though, on personal level, he wasn’t exactly chatty. Unless he opened up a bit over a glass of whiskey--- anyway, she had a point, obviously. “What are you gonna do?”

That snapped you from your musing like a shot of life into your bloodstream.

“That’s why I’m calling! I should-- I should get him something too, right?” Right?! Absolutely. “Oh god, I hate last-minute shopping. And I don’t even have a fucking clue what to buy! Well, a good whiskey is always a safe bet I guess, but supporting his drinking habits doesn’t sound like a good idea. Plus, it’s kinda… impersonal with comparison to what he gave me.”

Though if there was one thing you learned about Andy Barber, it was that he could appreciate the high-quality liquor, so perhaps it wouldn’t have been as impersonal as one might think.

“Well, I don’t know him so I can’t really help, but what you got from him should definitely give you a clue.”

“A clue?” you parroted, confused.

“I don’t mean like a clue for what you should buy him. But… look, even if you didn’t suspect that it’s custom-made, which whoa, he has to pay a lot of attention to buy you something like this. Much more attention than you thought.”

“…okay?”

“He likes you, you dumbass! It doesn’t matter what you get him, he’ll be happy you got him anything in the first place!”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” you deadpanned, unsure which statement you were referring to. That he liked you or that you shouldn’t take care to choose something that would really bring him at least a little joy.

You tried your best to ignore how your heart skipped the beat at the former.

“Whatever. Harry’s throwing a hungry eye on me, I gotta go fix him a snack unless I want him to eat all the candy again. Good luck!”

“Amber!“ you called out in honest despair, panic rising in your chest, only to get no answer.

You pulled the phone from your ear to look at the screen, already knowing what awaited you.

Disconnected.

Fuck.

It seemed you were on your own. Wasn’t that wonderful?

You shot your sister a simple ‘I hate you’ text, the gears in your head already turning frantically in order to figure out what you could get Andy.  

Amber replied with a set of laughing emojis within seconds. Bitch, leaving you alone to deal with a situation like this! What a sister she was.

You sighed, admiring the delicate lines of the bracelet again, torn between indulgence and guilt. There was no questioning whether you should buy Andy something too.

Say yay for the last-minute shopping for a man out of your league and whom you had no idea what you should get.

You were utterly at loss, growing anxious not only about the difficult choice of a gift, but also about possible delivery, wondering what should you even tell him and when.

Maybe though…. just maybe, you were getting kinda excited about what you were about to do too.

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Three hours.

You spent almost three hours at the mall where you could barely breathe because of the crazy crowds and yet you were none the wiser; your excitement left you quickly, once again replaced by despair. It took you three hours and passing the lingerie shop four times, a shop with pieces on display that barely covered anything, intended for either bedroom games or a swimming pool, before it finally hit you.

You cursed under your breath, calling yourself an idiot in murmur loud enough to have few people around you look at you in surprise.

“Dumbass, I’m such a dumbass,” you continued your monologue as you fished out your phone, quickly scrolling through your contacts.

To say that the person on the other end was shocked to hear from you at this time of month and hour was an understatement.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Lee. I have… eh, a favour to ask…”

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You were being ridiculous.

Absolutely and utterly ridiculous as you stood on a modest porch in front of a small family house, the roof hiding you from the intrusive drizzle but not keeping you quite safe from the wind as you clutched your handbag to your side as if it was your lifeline, cursing yourself for not wearing a scarf in December.

Your nose was practically freezing, your cheeks burned from the wind and your hands were cold too, because you were stupidly underdressed; as if you haven’t lived in Portland your whole life.

But that wasn’t the main issue; an Uber dropped you off about five minutes ago and still, here you were, standing outside and trying to convince yourself to ring the bell.

The plan had been to finish packing a bag and leave around 10 p.m. to your sister’s house, where you would spend the night so you could be with her family on Christmas Day from the very beginning. But then Andrew fucking Barber, your fabulous boss, left a gift in your office, a breath-taking bracelet now sitting low on your right wrist, and it all went to hell.

Maybe you could still make it to your sister’s house – it was shortly after nine, your bag waiting on your bed, so maybe you should just call another Uber and be on your way. Maybe you could leave the silly envelope in the post-box just so you wouldn’t have to deal with Andy’s reaction; after all, he had chosen the same approach; cookies be damned, there would be more left for Harry then-

But you really, really wanted to thank him. And you might be shitting your pants, but the prospect of seeing him in a domestic environment, possibly more relaxed, perhaps nearing the man you had had the honour to see on those nights… you couldn’t make yourself to pass on that opportunity.

At the same time, you kept reminding yourself that Andy did not expect to see you tonight, he might not even be home – you were pretty sure a dim light was coming from the living room, the TV on probably, but yeah, you could keep lying to yourself – and that he might be grieving and genuinely might hate you for invading his privacy since you had to search his home address in the official documents.

Yeah, you definitely should just spin on your heels and-

“Oh for God’s sake,” you muttered under your breath and pressed the doorbell, your heart suddenly hammering in your ribcage as you realized there were no takebacks now. “Shit.”

Maybe you should just run. What if he had fallen asleep already and you just woke him up?! Oh, he was so going to be pissed and he might even show that emotion, screaming you down like he did one with that intern-

A scruffle on the other side of the door snapped you from your hopeless expectations and you sucked in a horrified breath.

And then the door slid open before you could react and you were certain you looked like a deer caught in the headlights, a semi-frozen deer to make the situation worse and--- there he was.

You quickly dropped your gaze, only then realizing how rude that was and that you should meet his eye no matter how much you did and did not want to do so at the same time. As you gaze travelled up, you found that a domestic Andy was everything you imagined he would be; black socks, loose dark grey sweats, pale t-shirt slightly wrinkled. One of his arms hung loosely by his side, the other still at the door-knob as you continued your inspection, gaze caressing the line of his bare forearm, reaching the sleeves that were hugging his biceps precisely. Broad shoulders, perfectly trimmed beard framing plush lips with the slightest hint of a curious smile.

You smiled awkwardly as your eyes met his watching you with interest, dimmed with a hint of a doze-off you must have woken him up from. You tried not to dwell on the inconspicuous redness surrounding his irises.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up!” you blurted out quickly, rewarded with a light shake of his head and a stifled yawn; subtle.

“You didn’t. Hi,” he greeted you, only to make you realize that 1. you forgot to say hi and 2. his post-nap voice was a thing from wet dreams-- which was definitely not relevant at that moment.

“Hi,” you offered unsurely, eyes roaming his face, searching for any trace of anger. All you found was bewilderment; if pleasant or not, you couldn’t tell.

“I’m sorry for barging in. I just… uhm- I wanted to thank you and-“

The hint of a smile on his lips grew a fraction, expression softening at your admission and before you could find your footing, he opened the door further, subtly extending his hand to usher you in.

Your heart skipped a beat, the strangest feeling tickling your gut, teeth sinking into your lower lip, the grip on your handbag growing stronger. Yet you accepted, taking two reluctant steps inside. The door clicked shut behind you, sealing whatever fate awaited you.

Attempting not to look too nosy, you turned back to Andy rather than scanning the hall.

Words got stuck in your throat. As tired as he looked, worn to a bone by everything but physical exercise, you couldn’t but marvel at what a handsome man he was, even without his smart suits and ties and neatly styled fluffy hair; it was still very fluffy, just more of a mess than a fashion statement.

God, wasn’t he beautiful.

He kept looking at you too in mute anticipation of something, appearing mildly lost just as you were, giving the impression of a man who couldn’t tell what to expect.

Your gaze locked with his, unyielding, a gorgeous trap and you knew you had to say or do something before your heart gave out entirely.

Your mouth opened, no words coming out and you cursed yourself, simply opening the bag and pulling out a Tupperware box with half the cookies you baked last night, practically shoving it to Andy’s capable hands.

He accepted the item with eyebrows shooting up once before settling back, eyes misting for a moment. His fingertips brushed yours as he took a firm hold of the box, the not-quite-there smile of his remaining on his lips.

He seemed perplexed.

You felt like an idiot.

“This feels so silly now,” you admitted with a sigh, realizing the absurdity of the situation only accented by the fact that you stood there in the hall of his home in your coat and high-boots, ridiculously overdressed in comparison to him.

“It’s not,” he whispered finally, forcing the corners of his mouth to rise higher. “Thank you. Didn’t know you baked. Should have figured.”

You shrugged. “Never came up.”

Something shifted in his expression as did in the air; you knew he sensed it too. The unspoken hung between you, that you meant not in your daily routine at the office, but on your private nights, so rare and precious, so desperately pretended to be non-existent the next morning.

Your gaze lowered as the silence fell on your pair again and you awkwardly shifted your weight from one leg to the other. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“So, uh-“

“Thank you for the bracelet. Really. It was-” you licked your lips, meeting his eyes again, so deep, so blue and somehow soft and you forgot what you were about to say. “Eh- I wasn’t expecting it. I-- I didn’t think you’d… notice. And--- care.”

His brows furrowed for a bit and he placed the box on the shoe rack next to him; an action he soon regretted you guessed, because his fingers went for his wrist as if he wanted to readjust his cufflinks, a nervous habit of his, only to meet bare skin. Good to know you weren’t the only one iffy in this conversation.

“But you liked it?” he asked almost shyly and the corners of your lips rose on instinct as did you right hand, the sleeve of your coat sliding down a fraction, enough to reveal the new accessory.  “Looks pretty on you.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers gently slid over one of the symbols, brushing over the sensitive skin of your wrist. His gaze returned to yours, a flicker of something heated in his eyes, calling butterflies to your stomach.

Lord have mercy.

“Thanks- uhm--- thank you. Here, I got you something too.” You quickly reached into the handbag again to hide how flustered you felt – for a different reason than awkwardness.

He had touched your wrist and you turned into a blushing mess. Fabulous. And to make the matter more humiliating, now a twinkle of amusement played in his irises.

“You gave me a plant. And cookies.”

“Yeah. Kinda? But that was more of a… gesture?” you offered reluctantly as you handed him the envelope. “I uh—this is probably stupid, but, uhm--- here.”

“Stop putting yourself down,” he muttered darkly, causing your cheeks to burn hotter. “Thank you. You didn’t have to get me anything.” Pulling out the firm colourful paper, he blinked a few times, seemingly surprised. Ha, you bet he expected a Walmart card! Instead, there was a voucher for five entrances to the swimming pool where your friend Lee worked at. “Oh. Thank you. That’s really nice of you.”

A stone the size of Texas fell from your stomach and you couldn’t help the sigh of relief. Andy seemed genuinely pleased by your choice of gift and you felt your whole body relax.

“It’s just… eh, just for half an hour each and you can pick them on a horizon of three months. I’m not sure how often you like going, so… uhm, my friend works at the place, so you just give her a call and it shouldn’t be a problem to book it for mornings right before the opening hours,” you explained lamely, earning a puzzled look.

“How did you know I liked going when no one’s there?”

That caused one corner of your lips twitch in slight amusement and your eyebrow arch, even if his reasons weren’t exactly funny; his cheeks flushed a hint of red, a sight to behold for more than one reason. It was nice to have the roles reserved, you making him feel flustered for once.

Really? The rather quiet lone-wolf Andy Barber, followed by reporters still, just asked you this? Cute.

“…that’s fair,” he said and for a brief second, you were afraid you had shared your thoughts out loud. But he didn’t look offended, so probably not. The self-awareness then. “Thank you.”

“No problem. I’m-eh, glad you like it.”

You stood there again, both smiling – a little reluctantly, a little soft – and once again you had no idea how to proceed.

What you did know was that you enjoyed talking to him, even if it was awkward like this. You enjoyed seeing him in his natural habitat, in his home, relatively relaxed. You thrived seeing more of this Andy Barber, just a handsome guy, not Andrew Barber, the hot-shot lawyer.

He was the first to break the silence, hesitantly gesturing further into the house.

“Would you—would you like to-“

YES! was what you brain screamed.

“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother…” was what you told him, mentally cuffing yourself on the head.

“You’re not,” Andy opposed lowly. The whisper of your name that followed made you shiver.

His gazed trailed all over your face, so intense you would swear he saw right into your soul and further. You felt naked, but for some reason not too vulnerable – Andy seemed to like what he saw, expression genuinely inviting and yet. Yet there was a subtle promise of this not being a friendly invite which was as exciting as unsettling. The air appeared the crackle and you found yourself yearning to taste the electricity on your tongue.

“May I?”

He beckoned to your coat, suddenly free hands already rising and all you could do was to nod, automatically placing your handbag on the floor and unbuttoning the garment. Once if fell open, revealing simple black jeggings and a light pink sweater, Andy sidestepped you, fingers sliding under the hem, cautiously skimming over the bare skin above your collarbones, leaving a burning sensation in their wake.

The warmth of his fingertips seeped into your flesh and yet you shuddered, goosebumps rising on your skin.

You watched Andy put your coat away with care, turning back to you torturously slowly. He filled all of your personal space, so close and too far. You weren’t sure when exactly the air turned so heavy in your lungs, but as your gaze travelled to his lips, not missing how his sought yours in return, you felt all the oxygen leave the room.

“Andy,” the word rolled off your tongue, nothing but a soundless breath of his name.

His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips again and back before he spoke, voice barely above a whisper, hoarse.  

“Am I imagining it?”

He didn’t have to say what and still you knew with absolute certainty that he was addressing the unbearable and delicious tension, the one that had been building and coming to life during those three nights you had spent talking in his office late--- and now it was back with smouldering intensity.

“You’re not.”

You shivered and gulped when he cautiously took a single little step further into your space, your gaze falling to his chest, lowering in sudden surge of the deep-rotted insecurity, whispering about your and his world being thousands of miles apart. And yet, your heart raced in anticipation, your hopes dizzyingly high that you might touch heaven, even if for a few moments.  

When his fingertips grasped your jaw, tough light and oh so careful, your eyelids fluttered close, already indulging in the sensation. God, his touch was so soft despite the roughness of his fingertips…

As if he wished to torture you or to indulge that sweet little moment before lips met lips, he stopped an inch from his destination, his breaths as wavering as yours, the words whispered straight into your mouth just a little broken.

“I’m fucked up.”

Your brain basked in blissful fog, but this got across, causing you to tense briefly.

You couldn’t deny what he was saying, you both knew he spoke the ultimate truth – well, you guessed. What had happened to him, having his life dismantled and then losing his family, that sort of thing was bound to leave a scar. Confirming it bluntly though, that felt unforgiving, only adding insult to injury.

“We all are,” you whispered instead, not only because you wouldn’t say ‘fucked up’, the words too harsh.

And it wasn’t trivializing the tragic turn his life had taken. It wasn’t downplaying the depth of his wounds. It wasn’t necessarily implying that you had been through something equally horrible either. Most importantly, it wasn’t you mocking him.

And somehow, he understood that; even if he could have interpreted it in every wrong way imaginable and shove you away, insulted, disgusted.

But no, in that fleeting moment that meant everything, Andy understood that this was your acceptance; this was you telling him that you were willing to try; take whatever he offered and give anything you could in return.

Finally, his lips brushed over yours, slightly chapped and oh so warm and delicious, withdrawing too soon, leaving you to savour the taste as your ran your tongue over your own lips. You inhaled shakily, overwhelmed by everything that was him, powerful, electrifying and then your hand was somehow on his chest, your palm laid over his racing heart, your fingers twitching as his ribcage expanded with a sharp inhale.

Blindly, your mouth searched his again, his whiskers tickling softly and scratching at once, a pleasant sensation on your sensitive skin as he grew bolder, and truly attached your lips in a kiss that made you feel lightheaded with the emotion poured into it. Your hand curled around his nape, an instinct to pull him closer, fingers toying with the short soft hair there, drawing a hum from within the expanse of his chest.

You granted him access to your mouth when he wordlessly asked, but it was him who retreated shortly after that, his heart now appearing as if in pain with its furious beats under your palm. His breaths started coming out short and it dawned to you what was wrong. How fast this could have felt to him, even if he was the one to start it.

‘I’m fucked up,’ he had said. Too caught in the moment, you hadn’t fully realized the extent of his words perhaps.

But you did now – at least a little better than before.

So when he rested his forehead against yours and a breathless ‘sorry’ slipped from his lips, you shook your head lightly and planted a kiss on his cheek, hand still on the back of his head, fingers running over his scalp in a hopefully soothing motion.

“I’ve got you, Andy. You lead.”

You had no strength to keep him close when he pulled his face away, your eyes snapping open in fright that you had said something terribly wrong.

But Andy’s cerulean eyes were big and glassy, grateful and softly speaking about him being… moved by your proposition. Your heart felt like it just grew twice its size, too big to fit into your chest at what a breath-taking picture he was.

The next thing you knew, he dropped a chaste kiss to your forehead and pulled you into his arms, an almost protective embrace, kissing the top of your head for a good measure and you melted against his large frame, smiling into t-shirt.

“Thank you,” he murmured breathlessly into your hair and your smile widened, remembering the note he had left with the exquisite gift that had started everything that led you right here into this moment.

“Happy Holidays.”

Thank you for reading! I’ve been sitting on this since the beginning of damn November. I hope you enjoyed.

It was my first (and maybe last) time writing Andy, so I hope it was alright. Feedback always appreciated.

P.S. – sorry if the nosy reporters thing offended you.

P.P.S. - …I know, the prompt was veeery loosely filled. Shush.

Pretty divider by whismicalrogers.

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