#fuck anatomy I just wanted to see the if the colours fit him

[iroissleepdeprived]

This man stole my last braincell.

#btw this is just a character design #it's not an actual drawing #my brain wouldn't manage to make a whole ass drawing #this has no details I'm sorry but it's all I can do tonight #I'VE BEEN SUFFERING WITH THIS FOR MORE THAN FOUR HOURS #fuck anatomy I just wanted to see the if the colours fit him #aaaaghhhhh #hermes #digital art #character design #epic the musical

[ja3hwa]

What Ateez would love to see their s/o dressed up in [Spicy ver.]

Genre: Suggestive, Fluffy, Romance

Type: Ateez x Reader [Most are Gender neutral but some have descriptions of the Female anatomy]

Warning: Hint of BDSM, mention of owner dynamics, Swearing, Dom and Sub dynamic, the boys are completely in love with y/n, Let me know if I missed anything.

Note: Thank you @anoooon13 for sending me an amazing request yet again. I tried doing dot points instead of a reaction type layout. I hope you enjoy the read.

[MAKE SURE TO REBLOG AND COMMENT FEEDBACK♡]

Hongjoong : Straps and Leather

The king of straps.

This man will die the minute he sees you wearing anything that has straps on it

Bonus if it's red or black

This man would tie you up with the straps if he wished or you were being bratty

If you are going out to an event, he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off you.

He loves the feeling of leather, and the tightness of it.

This man loves to be on top but let's face it, you have from wrapped around your finger.

"Fuck, I want to feel every part of you."

SeongHwa : Knee-high socks and one of his shirts

Oh boy if you want Seonghwa to lose it, all you gotta do is wear knee-high socks.

If you pair it with nothing but one of his hoodies/shirts, wow this man will be on his knees for you.

This man is a Pleasure Dom, with a corporation kink, so white is a must.

The socks have to be the pretty white ones with lace on the top or even a little bow.

If they have those little cat paws on the bottom, you win.

He would try to pair This outfit with maybe a kitty tail that pokes out the bottom of the hoodie and some matching ears.

"Damn kitty, you look so innocent, so perfect."

Yunho : Cosplay/Roleplay (Maid/Cat-Hybrid/Bunny/)

It wasn't an obsession, It was a craving.

The fluffy cotton, the pastel colours, cute tails and ears.

His heart will stop if he sees you in anything like this.

The first time he caught you in cosplay, it was because you were dressed up for Comic-con.

He didn't mean for his blood to go south, leaving his brain a mess.

But the way the outfit fitted you, he couldn't help but let his mind wander.

"Let's ditch the convention. I'd rather do something more fun with this sexy outfit."

Yeosang : Cute Pink, Frilly and Collared

This boy is sadistic, Charming and a fucking Hard dom with owner tendencies.

He adores seeing you in anything fluffy, cute and Pink.

Bonus point when you let him put collars on you.

When you're out, going to events or such, something he loves to see is you wearing the choker he got you.

He would buy you the most frilly and poofy thing he could find.

Like Seonghwa he lives for the innocent look.

"Don't you dare take those off, I wanna see you come undone while wearing this adorable outfit."

San : Fishnets, Skirts and Button-ups

You can't tell me twice, this man is an ass man and skirts mean three things.

1. A perfect view of under ass cheek.

2. Easy Access.

3. Thighs, Thighs, Thighs.

Any types of fishnets, squeezing your pretty thighs.

Topping off with one of his button-ups.

Woah are you trying to kill him?

"Fuck baby, Come here and let me touch my ass."

He would praise, degrade, punish, do anything!

You're his, and when you're dressed like that, you're in for a long night.

Mingi : His clothes or Nothing

Oh boy, there is no changing this man's mind.

There is no escaping the whining giant when all he wants is you to wear his clothes.

His shirt tucked into some jeans while you go with him to dance practice.

His hoodie consuming your figure when you lay on the dorm couch with him.

Or when he spots you in absolutely nothing but his big t-shirt on.

This man will go wild, bending at your will.

"Damn baby, I can see your beautiful cheeks sticking out of my shirt. Please let me see more of you, Please baby."

Wooyoung : Velvet, Tight, and Soft

This man might be cheeky and charismatic but he melts the minute he sees you in anything velvet.

He would just sit for hours, cuddling you, petting you.

Yes literally petting the velvet on your dress or nightie.

The soft texture would make him mesmerized for hours.

Now don't get me wrong, Wooyoung has intrusive thoughts whenever you wear such outfits.

But let's face it, this boy just wants cuddles and the fact you're so soft too makes it even better.

"God, You're so soft, So hugable, so fucking sexy."

Jongho : Nightgowns, Silk and Sheer

Let's face it, out of all the members, Jongho is the most composed.

He has a poker face when it comes to anything to do with turns ons.

But when you put on any of your nightgowns, especially the silk one, His composer goes out the window.

The soft silk on your skin, the sheer fabric that laces around the edging and the vibrant colour complementing your tone.

You were perfect in his eyes, and he would melt at the sight.

"Wow, How did I get so lucky?"

-

Ateez Masterlist

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Tag List : @yunhofingers @softforqiankun @violetwinters @kpopmademygradesgodown @lmhmh01 @strangertides @purrhwa @1stray-kids-cb @joti17 @jess-1404

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop reactions #kpop fluff #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez reaction #ateez reactions #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez scenario #ateez x reader #kpop scenarios

[ushiluv]

Good Little Girl 

step-daddy!atsumu x reader 

recently divorced, your mom was quick to find a new boy toy to spend her time with, but what happens when that boy toy finds interest in you? (wc: 1635)

warnings 

somnophilia (kinda?), creepy tsumu, overstimulation, age gap (reader is an adult), one (1) pussy slap and one (1) face slap, dumbification, reader has female anatomy, size kink, nipple play, breeding kinda, sex with no protection... also NOT proof read (yet)

note from the author 

this is the first smut i’ve ever published pls lmk what you think about it and what i could improve! always open to criticism 

The divorce did not take as big of a toll on your mom as you thought it would. You thought that being cheated on by her husband of 20 years would ruin her life but it didn’t, quite the contrary actually.

When you met Atsumu, you didn’t really know what to think. 28 years old and a career already secured, you wondered what he and your mother had in common. The age gap between them was big, big enough to make people’s eyes widen at the revelation of it, but neither him or your mom seemed to care.

Atsumu was quick to develop an interest in you. Who wouldn’t? You were everything he wanted and more; the thought of the woman he was dating was already far gone for him, he wanted you and what Atsumu wants, Atsumu gets. That probably explains the lingering touches on your body, the far too heavy stares on you, the weird interest in your love life. You couldn’t deny that the attention he gave you didn’t make you feel a little funny on the inside. Atsumu was a clearly attractive and successful man, but it felt wrong. Wrong, but not wrong enough for you to play with yourself at night, wishing it was his fingers instead of yours, and fantasizing about a reality where you two could be a couple.  

Little muffled moans left your mouth, it was late at night, your mom and her boyfriend already fast asleep. With a hand on your mouth and the other down your pretty baby blue panties, you started wondering how Atsumu’s hands would feel, how his calloused experienced hands would toy with you. The thought was enough to bring you to the edge and you finally released with a whimper of his name leaving your pretty lips. Too tired to move, you fell asleep in the same position, one hand on your stomach and the other on your naked chest.

Atsumu was a morning person. Getting out of the bed he shared with the woman next to him last night, he made his way to your room, hoping to catch a glimpse of you before the day started. Slightly pushing your bedroom door, the sight in front of him left him breathless. Your nipples were perked due to the cold temperature of the room, your sleeping face was so peaceful and calm, Atsumu felt his boxers getting tighter. He didn’t know what pushed him to do his next move, he knew deep down it was wrong but he couldn’t contain himself anymore. He welcomed himself inside your room and quietly closed the door behind him.

“You’re so pretty” he whispered to himself as he placed a knee on your bed and leaned down. A hand of his came up to your face to push away a few strands of hair, letting him catch a better view of you. He placed a kiss on your forehead, “Gonna take good care of you.”

He was quick to kiss the skin of your boobs, warming them up for his hot tongue. He would look up at you once in a while, checking if his ministrations had woken you up but you were still in deep sleep. Feeling bolder, he opened his mouth and let himself suck on your left nipples, coating the little bud with his saliva. He couldn’t stop himself from biting down a bit, causing a little whimper to leave your mouth. He smirked to himself as he continued toying with your chest.

The weight on your chest began to be hard to ignore. Opening your eyes slowly, the sight in front of you almost made you believe you were still dreaming.

“T-tsumu?” your voice was quiet and sleepy, but it only made his cock twitch.

“Shh pretty girl” he kissed your jaw “Just let me take care of you, yeah?”

You nodded. Taking this as a sign, Atsumu properly straddled your hips and helped you take off your shirt.

He let out a breath. “Bet you’ve been dreaming about this, haven’t you? Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you look at me when your mom is away.” his voice was raspy and soft, he tried to keep it down. “You’re a dirty girl, you know that? Fantasizing about your mother’s boyfriend.” a low chuckle left his mouth as your cheeks turned a bright red colour.

He left a kiss on your forehead and lowered his hand down your body until it reached your crotch. He didn’t break eye contact with you as his hand toyed with the hem of your cotton panties. With a finger, he circled your clit and hummed as he felt the sticky wetness that slowly grew on the fabric.

“You’re soaking wet. Gonna let me ruin your pretty panties? Gonna let me make a mess out of you?”

You were about to respond but the only sound that left your mouth was a loud moan caused by how two of his fingers pinched your clit. “Please touch me.” you breathed.

“But I am touching you, baby. You gotta be more precise, use your words.”

“Please touch me properly, daddy, I’ll do anything.”

Cooing at your begging attempt, he pushed your panties aside and pushed two fingers inside of you. The tightness made him groan and the sound only made you clench around him.

“I can’t wait to destroy you” he mumbled to himself. His fingers started going in and out of you as his thumb played with your little bundle of nerve. Your little whimpers started growing louder and he wanted nothing more to hear you scream his name but he couldn’t afford getting caught either. He leaned down to press a messy open mouthed kiss on your lips, his fingers still toying with your cunt.

“If you want daddy to keep playing with you, you have to keep quiet.” he said against your lips. You slightly nodded and brought a hand to your mouth, hoping it would lower your sounds.

Feeling you get tighter around his two fingers, he let a globule of spit fall in your cunt, making everything even messier. The sight it was enough to bring you over the edge. You climaxed over his fingers with a hand on your mouth while a few praises left his mouth and traveled to your ears.

“Good girl, good fucking girl.” he removed his hand from your messy hole and gave a small tap to your clit. The gesture made you flinch. “Came around daddy’s fingers with no shame.”

Seeing him bring his fingers to your mouth, you parted your lips open and invited them in. Your tongue swirled around his two digits and you could feel his hard on pressing against your thigh. Grabbing his wrist with two hands, you removed his fingers from your mouth.

“Wanna make daddy feel good now.” you said, looking up at him.

Atsumu swore he lost his mind at that moment. Without wasting any time, he lowered his boxers to his thighs and let his cock spring free. With wide eyes, you wondered if you would be able to take him. He started playing with you using the tip of his cock, sliding it through your wet folds.

“Is it gonna fit?” you asked with a small voice.

“Hm?” Atsumu was mesmerized by how tiny your cunt looked next to him. “We’ll make it fit.”

As he said those words, he pushed slightly into your hole. The tip made it past your entrance. Seeing the tears in your eyes, Atsumu smirked to himself.

“You’re doing so good, doll. Taking me so good” he pushed a bit more, “The worst is already over lemme bottom out, baby, please” he begged as he waited for any form of consent from you. When you nodded your head, he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. With one swift motion, his cock was finally fully inside you. You could feel his tip kissing your cervix and that one spot even you have a hard time to reach. It’s when he started moving that you felt yourself completely lost.

“ ‘so… is so good” you breathed.

“Yeah? Princess is going stupid over her daddy’s cock?” he gave a light slap to your right cheek “Look at you drooling like a dumb puppy.” he chuckled.

He kept drilling into you, muttering a few curse words and groaning when he felt your gummy walls clench around him. He started rubbing messy circles on your clit with three fingers, all thought of waking up your mom were already forgotten, he just wanted to feel you cum around his dick no matter how loud you two were being.

“I’m almost there daddy” you said as your nails dipped into his forearms.

“Cum for me, baby, wanna feel you cream”. He groaned

A few more thrusts were enough to make you come undone around him. The clenching of your cunt had him spill his load inside you. With his cock still in your warmth, he let himself fall on you, hugging your body closer to his. None of you said anything for a few minutes, still recuperating from the shock of your orgasms. He leaned back again and slowly removed his dick from your pussy, taking a mental picture of how you clenched around nothing as some of his cum spilled out of your hole. He put his boxers back to place and replaced your panties into their original position. 

He patted your crotch.“Keep it inside you, don’t want you to waste a drop.”

You hummed, too dizzy to hold a proper conversation. Suddenly, a sense of panic took over you. “Wait daddy, I’m not on the pill.” 

“I know, baby.” he placed a kiss on your forehead and left your room as quietly as he entered it.

#atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu fluff #atsumu smut #dark content #stepcest #atsumu miya #inarzaki #inarzaki x reader #hq smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu!! #hq fluff #hq drabbles #hq scenario #haikyuu scenarios #smut #fluff #tw. stepcest #tw. age gap #tw. dumbification #tw. somnophilia

[jungkxook]

—demon-etized. (m)

⟶ pairing: namjoon x reader

⟶ analytics: youtuber!namjoon / ghost-hunters au / smut

⟶ words: 6,260

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ warnings: idiot ghost hunter bts, ghosts making namjoon horny ig?, slight exhibitionism, fondling, fingering, standing sex, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ description: in this episode of unsolved, namjoon and the boys risk their lives by spending overnight in an abandoned and supposedly haunted asylum in the hopes of finding some ghouls — but the boys are pretty certain the real reason for the spooky moaning isn’t allowed to go on youtube. ***warning: very scary!!!***

⟶ pinned comment: this is part of the not clickbait series!

“Well, this has been fun. Let’s go home now.”

You were starting to think this was a very stupid idea ━ but stupid would be an understatement. The looming asylum standing before you with nothing but the darkened midnight sky in the foreground acts as a foreboding omen that you’ve seen one too many times in pretty much any horror movie. The creepy abandoned estate offering itself up as a seemingly perfect and totally innocent means of adventure for a group of friends only to end in murder or a demon possession should have been enough to scare you all away. Fortunately, you’re not the only somewhat sane person (and you say that very loosely because you did, after all, agree to come with the boys), because you’re both startled yet thoroughly relieved to hear the worried statement coming from a very tense-looking Jimin.

It really was a stupid idea. Spending overnight (which, really, just translates to a few hours and a clickbait-y title for the video) in a supposedly haunted and derelict asylum from the early 1900s offered all sorts of problems that weren’t just supernatural. Squatters, creepy cult members, and risking getting whatever sorts of diseases are riddling the walls of the ancient dwelling were starting to get to you. But it was Namjoon’s idea to come here for his next video upload especially when considering the fact that for the entire month of October he and his group of YouTuber friends host a fan favourite ghost-hunting series titled Unsolved ━ and, whatever Namjoon usually suggests, the boys usually tag along with, no matter how daring or how stupid it may be.

“We literally just got here,” Hoseok retorts as he hops out of one of the two cars you and your friends had shared on the way here. It was a three hour drive from the city with the estate being much larger than you expected it to be, four main buildings sprawling out amongst empty fields. At least the stories of its creepy atmosphere are all the same. Was it the cool autumn breeze sending chills down your spine or something else entirely? The moment you stepped foot out of the car and gazed upon the asylum, it was almost as if you could feel something watching you. But that was definitely just you imagining things. “Don’t be a pussy, Jimin. What’s the worst a ghost is gonna do to you? Rattle some chains? Ooooh, spooky.”

“Okay, first of all,” Jimin rounds on the older boy almost immediately, “vaginas are the strongest muscles in female anatomy, so I’m not being a pussy. Let’s get it right, okay? I’m being a little bitch, and I embrace it. Second of all, if a ghost does rattle some chains near me, I will definitely be booking it back to the car and leaving all of you stranded here.”

From beside you, Yoongi snorts amusedly. He’s the resident non-believer amongst your group of friends so you always wonder why he even bothers to come to these things. He says it’s to help filming, but you think he’s banking on maybe one day seeing a ghost even despite all that charade of hostility. Even now, he’s already filming for the vlog, getting shots of the building but also mostly just Jimin and Hoseok’s banter in the background. “If a ghost does anything tonight, I’ll be genuinely surprised.”

“Something is going to happen tonight. I can feel it,” Jungkook says confidently. He’d been huddled over the opened side door of one of the cars with Namjoon and Jin, sifting through their high-tech equipment that you’re certain they just bought off of Amazon or something. “This place is one of the most haunted places near us. Have you even heard the stories? Apparently there are two most popular ghost sightings. One is some girl━”

“Is she hot?” Taehyung asks.

“She’s dead,” Jungkook deadpans. “Also, pretty sure she was eleven when she died from tuberculosis. Anyway, she’s more of a benevolent ghost. They say you can hear her laughing sometimes. There’s a lot of activity in one of the kids’ rooms. And the other sighting is less friendly. They just call it a shadow man because it’s hard to see its face, but you can always see an outline of a person walking by in one of their treatment buildings. There’s even been physical attacks, with one person saying they got scratched by an invisible force.”

Jimin visibly winces. “Sounds very much like a demon than a ghost to me.”

“Sick!” Hoseok exclaims. You’re worried to find that the group’s morale (aside from yours and Jimin’s) isn’t any less vivacious than when Jungkook started his story. “This is gonna be awesome.”

But you can’t help but to roll your eyes, your feigned boredom really just a weak attempt at hiding your own fright. “Oh, shut up. That’s such bullshit.”

“Is it?” Jungkook quirks a brow, challenging you.  

“Well, whatever happens, we’re gonna catch it.” This confident statement comes from Namjoon. After he hands out the pieces of tech to the rest of his friends, he glances upward at the asylum with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Come on. Let’s find us some ghosties.”

As the group begins to follow Namjoon towards the nearest building, Taehyung can be heard wolfishly quipping aloud, “Time to rock and roll, ghoul boys! And, er, girl.”

“Don’t call us that,” Yoongi grumbles.

It’s comforting to hear the rest of the group erupt into fits of entertained laughter, but any banter is quick to subside as you walk up to the building. You’re relieved when Jimin decides to hang back with you and doesn’t seem to protest when you start to cling to his arm as you’re all ushered through the main entrance of the building and into utter darkness only broken apart by the dim glow of your flashlights. If you weren’t already so frightened, maybe some of it would be comical, like the way the front doors creak open so very slowly in suspense.

Under Jimin’s breath, you can hear him mumbling in chagrin, “We should have gotten holy water.”

As your eyes adjust to the darkness within, you’re able to make out that the inside is just as horrifying as it was on the outside. Dust and debris hang heavy in the air and on the ground, and almost every inch of any surface within the building is covered in graffiti works of art. 

“Oh, fuck that,” Jin scoffs. “We only just stepped foot into here and this place is already giving me goosebumps.”

“Aw, sweet, bro! Check this out!” Hoseok says abruptly, startling almost all of you. He’s standing a bit further off down one hall, beckoning the rest of the group to follow. As you approach him, you can make out what sort of graffiti marking on the ground has suddenly grabbed his attention. “Who wants to lay on the pentagram with me?”

“No one,” You retort.

“I will!” Jungkook says at once, much to your dismay.

Yoongi lets out an audible strained sigh. “If any of you fucks get possessed and kill me, I’m never gonna forgive any of you. Just letting you know ahead of time.”

“Yeah, what are you gonna do?” Hoseok asks. “Come back and haunt us?”

“No, I’ll be dead. Ghosts aren’t real,” Yoongi says. “But I will still be very angry.”

“Noted.”

Before Jungkook or Hoseok can haggle Yoongi into filming them laying on the pentagram drawing and potentially offering their souls up to whatever demon lays waiting beneath it for their souls, the group is moving on. You explore the first bottom half of the building together in a tense silence before making your way up the dilapidated stairs to one of the treatment rooms that Jungkook makes certain to point out is where the infamous shadow figure is often seen. Taehyung decides to suggest, “Should we try the spirit box?”

You almost groan aloud. You fucking hate that thing, for obvious reasons. 

Whether or not you believe in it, the loud gurgling noise is always unsettling and you’re already on edge. Still, you sit back with Jimin as the rest of the boys nod in agreement and fiddle with the piece of tech until it’s been turned on. You’re immediately met with a cacophony of crackling radio static so deafening that your instinctual reaction is to cover your ears. You refrain miraculously, but you still cower in one corner with Jimin as the boys listen intently to the noise.

“Is anyone here?” Namjoon calls out to no one in particular. “If you are, can you give us a sign? Move a chair or say something or push Yoongi━”

“What the━?” Yoongi gawks. “Why me?”

“‘Cause you said you don’t believe in them.”

Yoongi clamps his mouth shut, and nods in a way that admits Namjoon has a point. At that moment, there’s a pique in the static, a jumble of inaudible words that almost sounds humanlike.

“What was that?” Hoseok asks. “Sounded like… It almost sounded like it said ‘leave.’”

“Leave?” Jimin squeaks. “Think we should take that as a sign, guys.”

“Nah, I definitely heard Steve, not leave,” Yoongi says.

Jungkook frowns. “Who the hell is Steve?”

“Maybe that’s his name,” Yoongi suggests nonchalantly. “Be nice.”

After a handful of minutes of even more strained silence, the boys are only able to discern certain words that you’re positive don’t have anything to do with the asylum or ghosts. At long last, they shut the machine off and the room is once more plunged into a formidable silence so dense that you almost miss the spirit box. But almost as soon as the piece of tech has been silenced, does Jimin cry out in pure anguish. “What the fuck was that?”

The boys instantly round on their startled friend who is now cowering behind you. The colour has all but drained from his face, eyes wide in a frenzied panic.

“What’s wrong?” Namjoon asks.

Jimin looks hysterical as he shoves a pointed finger in the direction of the wall opposite the room in the corridor. “I swear on my life I just saw something move out of the corner of my eye over there. Like a-a person o-or something. Looked like a shadow. I don’t know! I thought it was one of you guys━”

“Stop it, Jimin.” Your voice treads on apprehension as you look over at the alarmed boy. “You’re scaring me.”

“Yeah, ease up, Jimin,” Namjoon says, though he seems more entertained than anything. “I’d prefer if you didn’t throw my girlfriend headfirst towards a demon or ghost or whatever it is you saw.”

“Joon.” His name rolls off your tongue in a scolding moan as you rub wearily at your eyes. His words do little to help console you, and you’re certain it fairs even worse for poor Jimin.

“I’m sorry. I just━” Jimin pulls you tighter in front of him. “I swear I saw something. Holy shit.”

Jungkook’s the first one outside the room, his own camera in his hands as he goes to investigate. As the rest of the boys file outside in the corridor, you drag Jimin along with you, favouring not to be alone in any part of the building. You can hardly see anything, let alone a shadow. 

Jungkook turns back around at long last, a devious grin on his face as he finds Jimin’s wandering crazed stare. “Maybe it was the shadow man. Told you he exists.”

“I don’t care what it was. My heart almost fell out of my ass,” Jimin gasps. He clutches at his chest over his heart, for added emphasis. “Let’s get out of here.”

You aren’t quite sure if the boys believe him, but you do notice how quick they are to move on from the room and corridor. A palpable tension hangs heavy in the air that makes you realize perhaps the boys are starting to lose their cool under pressure. 

As you reconvene below on the main floor of the building, Namjoon pipes up. “Let’s split up. See if we can find anything on our own.”

“Okay, Scooby Doo,” Jin snorts. “You do know that this is how every horror movie begins, right? There’s power in numbers.”

“Yeah. Which is what we’ll all be saying when this video reaches trending on YouTube with a million views,” Namjoon says, matter-of-fact. “Which we can only do if we get some interesting content. So, let’s split up into pairs of two. We’ll meet back here in an hour.”

“We could just fake it,” Jimin suggests desperately. “Like every big YouTuber does. The magic of editing, guys.” But no one seems to be listening anymore as the group begins to splinter off. Yoongi and Jungkook decide to venture back upstairs in pursuit of the elusive and supposed shadow man, while Hoseok and Taehyung wander outside. Lost and dumbfounded, Jimin gawks around at his retreating friends, calling out in one last effort, “Anyone? …No? Okay, cool.”

He nearly lets out a yelp when Jin clasps a hand on the boy’s shoulder in a reassuring manner. “You’ll be okay, Jimin. C’mon, let’s go.”

Finally alone with Namjoon, he offers up his outstretched hand to you. You take it at once, gripping his palm a little tighter than necessary as he pulls you towards him. 

“You doing okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” You lie, even though you know he can see right through it. 

You’re content to find that he at least keeps your hand in his even as he tugs you along with him to explore the rest of the asylum. You decide to leave the building you’re both in and wander to another one where you stumble upon Hoseok and Taehyung on the main floor briefly. Then, making your way upstairs, you find nothing out of the ordinary but empty rooms that you suspect were once upon a time sleeping quarters for the patients. It’s less frightening than the other buildings, though still a little unnerving the longer you stay to explore. You climb the stairs until you’re on the third landing and inspect almost every room to find nothing. 

At some point, you let out a wavering sigh. Namjoon is busy waving around an EMF reader in a room. It’s empty aside from a dusty cot and a broken wardrobe, amongst a few other oddities covered in a thick layer of cobwebs and dirt. You could have sworn you’ve heard footsteps in almost every room you’ve entered that wasn’t either yours or Namjoons, and the strange sensation that you’re being followed hasn’t been able to shake from you. “Joon? Can we go back now? I’m starting to get a little spooked.”

Namjoon comes to a halt at once, turning around to face you. He gives your palm a comforting squeeze. “Hey, you’re okay. There’s nothing to be scared of. I don’t mean to sound like Yoongi but I highly doubt we have to worry about any ghosts.”

“Well, what do you think Jimin saw?”

“Who knows?” Namjoon shrugs. “It was probably just his imagination. Your mind plays tricks on you in the dark, doesn’t it? Here, let’s talk about something else to distract you.”

“Like?”

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as Namjoon considers another thought. You don’t even realize the smug smirk unfurling on his face until it’s too late. “Well… I had an idea earlier. Just a passing thought, really, but I bet it’d be fun anyway.”

“What was it?”

“We could probably have a quickie in one of these rooms and the boys would never know any different.”

You nearly choke at this, sputtering for air as you reach out to flick Namjoon’s shoulder. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No,” You admit sheepishly. He places his hands on your hips then, pulling you delicately towards him in a manner that makes it hard to focus now. “But I don’t know how I feel about ghosts watching us. Also, the couple that has sex in any horror movie usually ends up dying first.”

Namjoon shakes his head at you, albeit a little amused at your worrisome thoughts. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you. At least not while I’m here.”

“Coming from the man who tripped going up the stairs at your dorm the other day,” You point out tauntingly. The distant reminder and the sound of his abrupt laughter is enough to momentarily soothe your hammering heart. 

Namjoon gasps, feigning a look of mock hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean!”

“Means I love you very much but I don’t know how well you’d fair against ghosts or demons.”

“Ahh, I see how it is.” 

He sounds mildly offended and pokes his fingers at your sides but, in the ensuing scuffle to flee from his grasp, the both of you trip and fumble until you’re pressed up against the nearest wall, the sound of your snickers like music to his ears. He comes colliding against your front, hands digging into your hips. He leans forward to kiss your lips slowly, feeling you smile against him. A delightful chuckle bubbles at your mouth and he parts from you in the next moment wiggling his brows suggestively while a teasing smirk stretches at his face so wide, his dimples start to poke through.

“Wanna?” he asks. 

It’s a simple question, weighing heavy with dirty implications ━ and honestly? You’re kind of into it. Or maybe that’s just because he returns to kissing at your lips, only this time at the corners of your mouth, then the underside of your jaw. Tantalizing motions that seem to make your head spin violently. Your head lolls back against the wall behind you as he droops his head to your neck, lips meeting with the soft flesh of your throat to suck a delicate blossoming hickey there.

“Okay,” You rasp, “so maybe we can spare some time for this.”

“Ah, so now you’re interested.” His voice is huskier now, muffled by the way he busies himself by nipping at the same spot on your throat. He hears your breath hitch, feels the way you part your legs just slightly enough to have him sink further against you. He marvels at your decision in the morning to throw on a skirt and a pair of thick wool tights. At the time, you had said it was because the weather wasn’t too brisk outside just yet; now, he was thanking you silently for unknowingly picking just the right outfit for the occasion. 

“Namjoon…” Your voice is strained now, a mix between a plea and a whine and he grunts against your neck.

It takes Namjoon a moment to rack his brain, realizing that he finds it hard to even form a proper sentence anymore. “Don’t even need to feel my dick in you. Just wanna get you off, baby. Can I?”

You’re already practically drooling. “Think the boys will notice if we’re gone a little longer?” 

“Who cares?” Namjoon quips. “Jimin’ll probably think we got possessed and lost in the demon world or something.”

You giggle, though your voice splinters off into a soft moan as he continues to nip and suck at your neck. His hand falls to your thighs then, fingers brushing upward faintly until he meets the short hem of your skirt before disappearing beneath it. His hand comes to grasp at the delicate curve of your ass, his palm hot and firm against your soft flesh. 

He groans into your neck. “Been dying all night to touch you.”

“Then don’t stop.”

If the way his hardening cock now forms against your inner thigh any inclination, you don’t think he has plans on doing so. Instead, you watch as he lifts his free hand to your mouth, fingers tapping at your lips in a wordless motion. “Open up.”

You do as you’re told, lips parting just enough to wrap around his two fingers. He gazes at you with hooded eyes as you suck at his digits, tongue laving against the sturdy form in your mouth until his fingers are coated thick with your saliva. His other hand, still attached to the rump of your ass, moves like water over your skin to your thigh once more, nudging you aside just enough, pinching delicately at the skin there; he pulls his fingers from your mouth then, then lets the same hand venture under your skirt in a similar fashion. He wastes no time in pushing aside the material of your panties, pressing his digits at your core, watchful eyes staying fixated on yours if only to watch your every expression. His dampened fingers slide over your folds, spreading them open, running across them, admiring the way your stickiness already forms between your legs. 

“Joon…” You cling to him tighter, both to steady yourself against the sudden ministrations and to shield yourself more from view, though you’re certain there’s a slim chance the boys will come across you and Namjoon like this. You hope.

Namjoon’s fingers slip past your folds then, slow and steady as he feels the tight constricting walls of your cunt. You throb around him, thinking only of his cock, imagining the girth of it fitting snug deep within you. The similar stretch of your walls, the fluid motion of his length burrowing in and out of you, wrecking you into shambles. Now, Namjoon wriggles his fingers upward, scratching at a spot within you that has you writhing against him, the slick wetness of your arousal sufficiently coating his fingers. His thumb finds your clit then, running small circles against the small bundle of nerves.

“So wet,” Namjoon moans, resting his forehead against yours. He notes the way your teeth sink into your lower lip, and pulls his free hand out from under your skirt to tap his fingers against your chin. “Gonna moan for me, baby? Let the boys hear you? Maybe wake the dead?”

“You’re such a brat,” You simper through a shuddering breath, and if you weren’t so consumed by him then maybe you would have laughed at the joke he manages to squeeze in at the last moment. But he’s not wrong. What’s the point in keeping silent in an abandoned building that you’re positive only you and your friends are currently occupying? How much longer do you expect to keep quiet, when the way he’s making you feel begins to slowly burn at your insides? 

He curls his fingers deep in you, and your jaw unhinges in a silent gap. You wonder how long you can last, face burning with every passing second as he fingers you closer and closer to your high. Your hips jut outward to meet his hand with every motion, grinding against his knuckles in a desperate need to get off. You’re shameless about it too, fingers gripping his shirt tightly, brows scrunched together in hardened dedication. 

“Such a pretty little mess,” Namjoon hums. “Want you to cum on my hand, baby girl.”

“Fuck, Namjoon━” You whimper now, head lulling back as he twists his fingers further in you. 

But, as soon as you do so, the echoing sound of footsteps has your eyes darting to the darkened corridor. You make out the sound of oblivious chatter, and the familiar voices of Taehyung and Hoseok echoing from somewhere down below. They must be two floors down, though you can hear them screaming at nothing in particular, except for a string of profanities that meet your ears.

“Jesus, fuck!” That definitely sounds like Taehyung, voice shrill with worry. 

“Chill!” There’s Hoseok, but you think he was also screaming moments ago with Taehyung. “It’s just a spider.”

“I don’t care! Get it off of me!”

“Bunch of dumbasses,” Namjoon shakes his head rigidly, a fleeting grin forming on his face that is quick to fade as he curls his fingers upwards further into you. And, while your attention is somewhat fixated on the boys, you find yourself treading a fine line of not giving a fuck as Namjoon’s fingers stay buried deep within your cunt. Still, Namjoon can sense the slight urgency in your demeanor when your hands wind around his neck to tug at his hair, as if to gesture to the strangers that he already knows are nearby. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs reassuringly, voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re doing so good, love.”

He slows his fingers almost to a halt as you burrow your face in the crook of his neck. Your walls continue to clench around his fingers, and he adds a third finger to stretch you out just enough in a teasing leisure manner. He does it on purpose too, this much you know for certain, as he pinches playfully at your waist. It’s lewd, the idea of him fingering you out in public like this but the emboldened adrenaline coursing through your veins doesn’t want him to stop. By now, your high overwhelms everything else, causing you to writhe against Namjoon as he cradles you to him. You cum moments later, your orgasm overcoming you before you can sense it, trembling beneath his hands as he continues to finger you through it. Warm, wet arousal leaks from your core, coats his fingers all over as a punctuating whimper of his name tumbles from your lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he says gently. “Let everyone hear how dirty you are. Let it all out.”

Your thighs shake, squeezing shut around his hand, and all he can do is rub soothing circles into your hips with his free hand. He waits for your breath to steady, as the coil in your belly loosens, instead taking the time to admire you to your fullest, drunken hooded eyes glazed over in that perfect expression he loves.

“Want your cock in me now, Joon,” You whine breathlessly. The whining persistence in your voice excites Namjoon, only amplified tenfold by the way you begin nipping and sucking at his neck. 

“Now?” he asks.

“Now.”

Almost instantly, there’s a noticeable shift in his expression, a shit-eating smirk tugging at his mouth. You smother the rest of it before it can become too smug, folding your lips over his. Still, he hums through your eager kissing, “Yeah? Gonna let me fuck you like this, love? Take you raw against this wall, right here, right now?”

“Yes, please,” You mewl. Growing restless, you beg silently, “Namjoon.”

“Better make it quick then, hm?” 

You can only nod, still in a daze from the orgasm that still courses through your veins. Namjoon’s quick to oblige, pulling his hands from your heat and wiping your slick wetness off on his thigh. Clumsy hands between the both of you fumble to undo the button of his jeans, hastily undoing them just enough to free his straining cock from within. He wedges himself between your legs, hiking your skirt farther up your thighs, and he hurries to free his length from its confinements, wild locks spilling out onto his forehead and into your own line of sight. You push his hair up and away from his face, though your fingers grip suddenly at the roots of his locks when he grips your thigh and hoists it up to his hip, and then pushes himself into you at once, the tip of his warm cock easily coaxed by your already wet walls. He moans into your neck but muffles it halfheartedly by kissing along your throat.

“Easy there, boy,” You snicker, though your own words are a weak drunken slur, drowning out into a muffled whimper as he thrusts himself into you all the way. His hips meet yours roughly, grinding against you as your walls stretch around his throbbing cock.

“I’m needy,” he whines. “Just wanna feel you around me.”

He wastes no time in moving again, pulling his hips back only to thrust into you, adopting a steady fluid pace in such a way that has your head lolling back against the wall, and your mouth popping open in a silent moan as you shift beneath him. The wall of the building behind you is rough and jagged but you don’t feel it, not with the way he continues to thrust into you. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, stretching you apart in such a way that has him pummeling his length into your core just right. 

“Fuck,” he grunts into your neck. Impatient hands move to yank your shirt up to your chest, pulling your bra down just enough for your breasts to pop out. He moves to leave a wet trail of kisses to your breasts, catching one of your nipples between his teeth and sucking harshly at it. The new sensation has your own walls clenching around him, and he almost comes undone then. Against your chest, you can hear him murmur breathlessly, “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

“Mmm,” You tug harshly at the roots of his hair. An unabashedly loud moan nearly tumbles from your lips before you can bite it back. Elsewhere, you can hear the sound of faint footsteps once more in the far distance, Taehyung and Hoseok much closer this time (quite possibly on the same floor as you, but the opposite end), but you don’t seem to care much anymore about the potentiality of being caught. “Fuck, Namjoon━”

“You like being fucked like this?” he rasps. “Out in public, for anyone to see?”

You feebly muster a nod, lips parting in a silent moan safe for the sound of your hot panting in his ear. Hurried yet deep shuddering strokes, he fucks into you again and again until your head is spinning. Every thrust sends a jolt up your spine and, still riddled by your first high, your body is quick to turn into shambles beneath him. Your hands flail outward to grasp onto every inch of his body, hands slithering beneath the material of his shirt, fingernails to dig crescent shapes into his torso, then snaking downward to grasp at his bum, pulling him in closer each time he rolls his hips into yours.

“Joon…” Your voice is an exhausted moan when it meets his ear. He almost doesn’t hear it, instead too caught up in the way your panting breaths mingle with the crude wetness of his cock delving past your folds each time. Somewhere, once more, in the distance even closer this time is the sound of footsteps once more. The thought of someone walking in one you like this━Namjoon wedged between your thighs, drilling his leaking cock into your wet cunt and tearing you to utter shambles━does something chaotically good to you. “Not gonna last.”

“Me neither,” he gasps. “Don’t care. Just wanna cum. Just wanna feel you cum around me.”

His thrusts begin to tread into sloppy territory, fervently itching to get both of you off. You reach your second high first, tumbling towards it with open arms. You can’t contain yourself, the tempting moan dancing upon the tip of your tongue, burning in your throat as your orgasm twists at your belly. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna━” 

But your voice splinters off into a delicious sounding whimper. Wary of being caught by your wandering friends when you’re both so close to being undone (because, really, the idea of someone else hearing you whimper because of how good his cock is exhilarates him), Namjoon’s hand clamps over your lips and you welcome it graciously, favouring the idea of his fingers poking into your mouth so that you have something to distract your moaning. It still comes, broken and inaudible, smothered by Namjoon’s hand, as your tongue lavs around his digits. 

Now, you’re truly a sight to behold, making Namjoon’s length twitch amongst your walls. Exhausted, fucked out eyes gawk at him, too weak to carry on, instead jutting your hips forward to meet his with each thrust. 

“Shit,” he whines. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N━”

He comes moments later, frantic slaps of his own hips having him spilling his seed sloppily into your already wet cunt. The abrupt sensation as your own walls clenching so impossibly tight around him, he feels as if he can’t move, though it’s not as if he immediately plans to. Instead, after a few more rocky thrusts into you to ride out both of your highs, he collapses against your chest and you smooth your fingers delicately through his hair. 

It’s a miracle when you both manage to finally pry themselves off of one another. As Namjoon hurries to tuck himself back into his jeans, you fidget with your bra and shirt, and then the hem of your skirt, tugging it as low as it can go. His cum is still warm and sticky between your legs, slowly beginning to run down your inner thighs. 

You catch him looking at some point and ask curiously, “What?”

“Nothing,” he says innocently. “Just wondering how you still manage to look so beautiful even after having my cum fucked in you.”

You roll your eyes as you reach out to ruffle his messy hair in an attempt to tame the damage you’ve caused. He smiles wide at the effort anyway. 

“Decent?” he asks.

“Good enough,” You say. “Now, let’s find the boys before anyone notices we were gone for too long.”

And this, he doesn’t disagree with.

Later, when you and Namjoon have regrouped with the rest of the boys back by the cars parked outside the asylum, everyone looks a little more on edge than when you left them. Except for maybe you and Namjoon. You wonder if the boys notice, judging by the way you and Namjoon keep giggling amongst yourselves.

“So,” Jungkook says, “did you guys find anything?”

“Nothing,” Jin admits. “Just freaked out Jimin a little bit more.”

The boy in question can be seen scowling to himself, arms folded over his chest. “All I gotta say is screw this place.”

Hoseok looks indifferent as he reviews a recording on the camera in his hands. When he speaks, his voice is a casual drawl. “Dunno. Thought we heard some suspiciously loud moaning from one part of that building that I’m almost positive Namjoon and Y/N were exploring.”

At this, Taehyung bursts out into wolfish laughter, only prompted further by your sudden horrified expression that you try to play off nonchalantly and fail miserably at doing. So they had heard you two after all? “Ha! They sure were exploring something.”

While the rest of the boys look either intrigued or rightfully confused, Namjoon shakes his head defiantly. “Nah, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Resisting the urge to hide behind your hands, you bite your tongue and try to sift through your brain for something else to discuss. Over the childish giggling sounding from Taehyung and Hoseok, you ask, “Well, did you guys find anything? Thought we heard you exploring the third floor.”

“Third floor?” Hoseok echoes, dumbfounded. “We didn’t get that far.”

“But I could have sworn I heard you guys.”

Hoseok’s brows knit together. He exchanges a look with Taehyung, then returns his stare to you. “You probably heard Tae screaming like a lunatic because a spider was on him. We were only in there long enough to try the spirit box out again, but that was on the second floor. Then the spider thing happened. Then, we left.”

Now, this is alarming. You gap at the boys as your mind tries to piece together the puzzles of this dilemma. Had you heard the boys, or perhaps something else entirely? Or maybe it was just your imagination. Namjoon did say your mind plays tricks on you ━ but the sound of footsteps had been so vivid. 

Even Namjoon looks stupefied, gawking at Hoseok. “Wait, you’re not joking, are you?”

“No,” Taehyung shakes his head. “We were filming the whole time. We can show you. Are you guys joking?”

“No,” You promise. “We were━ Erm━ We got distracted. We weren’t really paying much attention but━”

You’re fortunate when Yoongi decides to speak up, interrupting your embarrassed stammering. “So then what did you guys hear…?

A beat of silence passes amongst your group of friends. One-by-one, you each turn to look up at the haunting asylum still standing behind you, the night blurring its shape into one incomprehensible monstrosity. Okay, so maybe the ghost stories about this place are true. A shiver runs down your spine. 

Then━

“So does that mean the ghost is a Peeping Tom or━?” Jungkook asks. You wonder if you should be concerned by his serious tone.

The boys howl with laughter at the thought, though you’re still admittedly a little shaken up by the idea of a ghost watching you and Namjoon bone. Maybe you asked for it, what with deciding to have a quickie in a haunted asylum. 

“I don’t know, but can we please get out of here?” You press thinly. “Jimin was right. Screw this place.”

If the boys are as deeply unsettled by yours and Namjoon’s sudden revelation, you don’t know. You all manage to pack up your belongings and clamber in the cars in record timing, speeding away from the asylum unscathed. And if you really did just witness a ghost encounter, then you suppose it isn’t all that bad. 

At the very least, Namjoon’s video does make it to the trending page.

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[beckydoesthings]

various fics of hxl that i adore reading! this list is quite lengthy, but feel free to message me if you have any questions!

*will continue to be updated. also, if i mistagged you, i apologize, i do not know how to tumblr*

Love Is a Rebellious Bird

E | 134k | @100percentsassy and gloria_andrews

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don't hum Bolero.

i think this tickled every bone of my musical self and also made me cry (are you seeing a theme here??) one of the first fics i fell in love with and one i keep coming back to.

Collision

E | 226k | @tequiladimples

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

(Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

the world building in this one is insanity - so much good mythology mixed in and it made me screech with joy. i think i can firmly say that i did not expect where the plot went, but that made the story so much better.

Flour and Chocolate

M | 145k | @danosphere91

It was nice, for a bakery he supposed.

Then he approached the display cabinet.

And the foreboding slammed into him. Because every product had letters next to it. Letters. GF, DF, V, O, VGN.

What. The. Fuck?

Lifting his eyes to the chalkboard menu spread across the back wall Louis felt physically ill. ‘Gluten-free’, ‘organic’, ‘vegan’, ‘paleo’, ‘dair-…’ Wait, what the fuck was a paleo? He had entered some hipster-trash establishment and it was more than time to get out.

OR

Louis is a single dad and Harry works at the newly opened bakery down the street.

the miscommunication in this fic is SO REAL and makes for a good read. the rest of the flour and chocolate series is also fantastic. i thoroughly enjoyed both the ziam and ed/niall arcs that bring the whole story together.

run away home

E | 106k | @hattalove

Louis stands, in the middle of a clearing with his hands in his pockets, and stares. This boy—God, this gorgeous, gorgeous boy. He seems so clumsy, confused at the best of times, but there’s a wisdom about him as he speaks, a maturity that belies his age.

Louis is hopelessly, wildly attracted to him.

or, louis is a successful jockey down on his luck, struggling to get his life back on track after an injury. harry has a horse, a house fit for a prince, and a broken heart.

it takes them a while to figure out that they need each other.

this makes my inner horse girl extraordinarily happy - even if i don’t know anything about horse racing. louis’ story in this is beautiful and makes the whole piece worth a read.

waiting for the tides to meet

E | 60k | @nauticalleeds

Louis lets out a deep breath, thinking about Harry’s soulmate. Thinking about how Harry’s soulmate is probably as beautiful as Harry, some person that Louis cannot compare to, and how the universe has chosen them to be Harry’s. Fuck the universe. “Fuck you,” he calls out to the universe. He’s aware of how crazy he sounds.

Maybe he is crazy, with how he’s falling for Harry. And fuck that, too.

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.

Featuring a lovely cup of OT5, a road trip down the coast, and a scene where Harry eats a whole head of lettuce. Don't ask why.

gorgeous soulmate AU that gives me summer cruising vibes. worth the read for the lettuce scene alone (i kid, i kid)

Do Not Go Gentle

E | 70k | @afirethatcannotdie

“This is all a game to you, isn’t it? Well, it’s not for me. This is a real life or death situation,” Louis says, spitting the words at him. “And I just don’t think you’re cut out for it.”

For a moment, they stare at each other in complete silence. Harry can feel his blood thrumming between his ears, can see Louis glaring at him, feels red-hot anger. And then all he feels, oppressively and desperately, is lust.

Suddenly Louis is surging up to him to press his lips against Harry’s. Harry walks the two of them backwards, pressing Louis back against the door. Louis oomphs in surprise and brings his hands under Harry’s scrub top, scratching at his lower back.

“Lock — oh — lock the… fucking door,” Louis mutters.

When Harry Styles starts his first day as a surgical intern, he expects a lot of things: to treat patients, to observe a surgery, to feel a bit overwhelmed. What he definitely doesn't expect, however, is that the handsome guy he kicked out of his bed this morning is also an intern.

A Grey’s Anatomy AU where tensions are high, Harry and Louis are hooking up in secret, and no one has time for love. Or do they?

okay i’ve watched maybe 3 episodes of Gray’s Anatomy, but i feel like this encompasses the vibe of the show: medical stuff with a hefty dose of angst and sexual tension

Falling For Me Won’t Be A Mistake

M | 58k | @all-these-larrythings

Harry is married to his job and so overworked that he doesn't know how to stop. All it takes is a forced Hawaiian get-a-away, the warm tropical breeze of the island, and the most beautiful, elusive man he's ever seen to make him remember what living is like outside of work. Well, that, and the little souvenir he accidentally takes home with him.

one of my favorite mpreg fics so if that’s not your cup of tea, then don’t read it. i love surgeon harry with a vengeance, but honestly Gems and Niall are iconic in this one.

Watching the World Fall

E | 11k | @crazyupsetter why won’t it let me tag :(

This segment has been going on long enough that Louis knows what’s coming before James starts in on it, trying to sell him on something he knows that Louis wouldn’t normally be buying. But there’s four cameras surrounding him, and an audience watching him expectantly, so if Louis wants to continue convincing people that he’s doing just fine, he’s going to have to go along with it.

“We have a whole host of single men backstage waiting to meet you, Louis,” James tells him. “We want to help you find love tonight, on Late Late Live Tinder. Is this okay? Do you want to play?”

It actually kind of makes sense that his first date after the break-up is going to be just as public as said break-up. Something like coming full circle.

“Alright, James,” Louis agrees, hopping down off his stool.

“Okay, come down to the stage,” James says. Louis can’t even tell whether the excitement in his voice is genuine or not. “Right now, come on down!”

i have a soft spot the size of Antarctica for Late Late AU fics (we stan James Corden) and for exes to lovers so this checks all the boxes.

autumn leaves

E | 27k | @suspendrs

“Brave?” Harry frowns, caught off guard. “No, not particularly.”

“You seem brave,” Louis decides, pushing off the wall and stepping on the butt of his cigarette. “You are strong, and you are not mean. That’s good,” he assures, touching Harry’s arm gently.

“Thank you, but that’s not true,” Harry smiles ruefully. “I’m really not anything special.”

Or, Harry is an American soldier in France during World War II, and Louis is a French waiter that doesn't mean to fall in love with him.

love love french AUs and while this one isn’t sunshine and rainbows, it’s a beautiful yet heart wrenching piece. warning for period typical homophobia

caught up in your love affair

NR | 8k | @disgruntledkittenface

“And the corgis took to you straightaway,” Harry remarks.

“That’s true,” Louis chuckles.

 “I’ve spent the last 29 years being barked at,” Harry deadpans, jerking his hand toward Louis, “this one walks in, absolutely nothing.”

Louis outright giggles at that, saying, “They were just lying on my feet during tea.”

“Wagging tails,” Harry says, shaking his head.

“It’s because they don’t understand flirting,” Louis tells him, “you can’t charm them the way you do everyone else.”

Royal AU. Prince Harry announces his engagement to Louis Tomlinson in an interview with longtime friend and BBC host Nick Grimshaw. Inspired by Prince Harry and Meghan Markle.

just. 8k of royal fluff. that’s literally it and i adore it so much.

Apples Always Fall (As I Do For You)

M | 54k | @rainbowsandgucci

”Due to unforeseen circumstances, help is needed here at the orchard for the impending apple season. Looking for someone able to start within the next week or two at the most, is willing to do whatever miscellaneous tasks are needed, such as picking & packing apples, running the cash register, and other handywork that may need to be done. Must be good with customers, and able to lift up to 50lbs. Help will be needed until at the least the end of October. Please contact the number found on this page, or come out to the orchard and ask for Harry. All the love xx” --- Louis is staying at his Aunt's farm in a small town in Minnesota for four months. To deal with the boredom that sets in a week into his stay, he starts working at the local apple orchard, owned by twenty six year old Harry Styles. Louis quickly finds himself falling in love with the orchard, and he finds a family in Harry's friends Niall, Liam, and Zayn. He also starts to fall in love with Harry. Falling in love with him turns out to be the easy part.

i never thought i would enjoy an apple orchard fic?? but it’s so good?? farmer harry makes me laugh to think about, but the heartbreak in this fic is so. real.

Mine Would Be You

E | 114k | @crinkle-eyed-boo

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

exes to lovers drama but make it extra sad. the fact that we see so many facets to this story just makes it all the more painful, yet beautiful. this fic also reminds me of how much i love one mister niall horan.

One for Luck

E | 96k | @leavingonatrain

The very first time Louis remembers hearing Harry Styles' deep, deep voice, he's just won gold at the World Equestrian Games and he's officially back on Great Britain's Olympic team. He's also three sheets to the wind, drunk on victory and champagne, and there's a gorgeous boy whispering in his ear. Life's grand.

(AU: Louis and Harry are professional riders on the British Olympic team.)

again, i know nothing about horses, but i like to pretend i do for the sake of this fic. it’s beautiful, it’s smutty what else could you ask for?

Nothing But You On My Mind

E | 83k | @absoloutenonsense

Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.

i absolutely. definitely. sobbed tears at this fic. it’s just so beautifully painful to read. don’t want to spoil anything, but this is a must.

Adore You

M | 67k | @isthatyoularry

“We invited our new acquaintances from uptown. You’ve simply got to meet their oldest son!” said his mother with a flourish, and suddenly it became abundantly clear as to why his parents had so adamantly demanded he join them in Deansville for the entirety of the summer.

Against his wishes, Harry spends the holidays at his family’s summer estate, and is reluctantly pulled into a courtship he didn’t ask for. Harry doesn’t want to get married, but Louis does. They don’t fit, but then again they really, really do.

Vaguely set in the 1920’s. Headpieces, jazz, fashionable canes, and flapper dresses, and that.

i strongly relate to harry in this one! one of my favorite historical AUs and honestly i love the thought of louis in well fitting suits.

leave it to the breeze

E | 81k | @hattalove

Louis couldn’t be prouder of his bake, but there’s something—there’s something. Something about Harry Styles and the earnest way he measures, pours, mixes, scrapes. Something about the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth as he knocks the air out of his batter.

or a great british bake off au in which louis cares about winning and winning only, harry is made of sunshine and rainbow sprinkles, and niall sticks his nose into other people's business. also featuring liam as louis's best friend-slash-concerned mother, and zayn as a macaron connoisseur.

i. love. the. great british baking show. baking + h&l is amazing. and another reminder as to why niall is the absolute best.

Paint The Sky With Stars

M | 62k | @icanhazzalou grrr let me tag

On 10 April 1912, Harry Styles boards the finest ship the world has ever seen. Still grieving the death of their mother, he and his sister are being sent to America to live with a callous uncle who cares more about his business connections than family. Harry prepares himself for a long, disappointing voyage alone in his stateroom.

Louis Tomlinson has borrowed and saved, and finally has enough to purchase a Third Class ticket to America. With all of his belongings in a single ruck sack, he boards the Titanic filled with hope for a brighter future. Never one to sit still, he can’t resist exploring the massive ship, and soon goes sneaking into First Class in a stolen steward’s uniform.

By a twist of fate, Louis finds himself in Harry’s stateroom, entranced by the most attractive man he’s ever laid eyes on. He keeps returning day after day, even if he doesn’t understand what it is about Harry that continues pulling him in. That’s all right; Louis has a week to figure it out, and Harry is plenty willing to help.

Except they don’t have a week. They have four days. Because on 15 April, their entire world will be turned upside down.

Or, the historically accurate Titanic AU with a happy ending.

gorgeous historical fic that’s so accurate and painstakingly written. i keep coming back to it!

When It’s Late At Night

M | 25k | @all-these-larrythings

Louis has zero interest in an ex-boybander turned solo artist when his appearance on the show gets announced, but that's exactly who he gets stuck with when Harry Styles shows up at the Late Late show to promote the release of his debut album. For an entire fucking week.

Or

The Late Late prompt that we all need to get through this excruciatingly hard time.

remember when i said i love Late Late AUs? yeah. i love that louis gives absolutely zero shits in this fic until he gives all the shits.

Chasing Empty Spaces

E | 79k | @domestic-harry

The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

gorgeous historical AU that goes through Harry’s struggle with his sexuality wonderfully. this one also made me cry.

Resist Everything Except Temptation

E | 100k | @domestic-harry

The lethargic sound of heels clicking against wood resonated across the sea. Footsteps descended the staircase, every assured step creating a menacing aura as it grew closer. Perspiration gathered along Louis’ palms as the rhythmic sound halted in front of him.

“Captain,” Malik greeted.

Louis watched out of his peripheral as Malik’s boots shuffled back a few steps. Sweat matted the hair along the nape of Louis’ neck as he waited for something to happen. He felt as if a sharp blade was twisting his gut as the silence became tangible. There was a metallic slide of a sword being pulled out of its sheath, the sound startling Louis out of his cocoon of sterile shock. His shoulders jumped as the tip of a blade flattened underneath his jaw. Louis’ distorted reflection stared back at him in the polished metal. Engraved rose petals twisted his appearance as they crawled up the length of the sword. The sword lifted and took Louis’ chin with it.

Standing in front of Louis was Captain Styles.

OR

The one where Louis is the commodore's son who is forced to become a part of Harry's crew when he is captured.

love this pirate AU that’s got one badass gemma styles. also, harry as a super cool pirate in gorgeous clothes makes me super happy!

i’ll make this feel like home

E | 49k

Harry to groans himself and then takes a deep breath. “Okay, well. Here’s the thing. I peed on a stick.”

Louis isn’t able to get more than a shocked “What!” out before Harry’s steamrolling on.

“I peed on a stick and it says it’s positive, but you always prattle on about how it’s best to go to the doctor’s before you get excited, you know to confirm it because sometimes hormones are off or you have like a tumor or some shit and get false positives and what if I’m dying and-”

“You’re pregnant?!” Louis shouts out, stomach dropping as the words leave his mouth.

“Um, yeah… maybe.”

[the one where Louis' hopelessly in love with his best mate... who just happens to be pregnant with another man's baby.]

baby momma harry with hot mess!Louis is a recipe for disaster, but this one has plenty of fluff to make up for it.

Hands Clasped Tight

E | 44k | @afirethatcannotdie

“What am I looking at here?” Harry asks.

“This, my friends, is a ‘proof’ Instagram account, run by your students,” Liam announces.

“It’s got all this stuff about how the two of you are together,” Niall adds.

“I heard about that,” says one of the math teachers. “Confiscated a kid’s phone today when they were looking at it. I have to say, the evidence that you’re dating is pretty damning.”

“Really,” Louis says dryly. “Do you think being married for three years might have something to do with it?”

Or the one where Harry and Louis are high school teachers and their students have been playing matchmaker for over a year. Little do they know, Harry and Louis are already married.

love love teacher harry and louis that’s mostly funny fluff with a little angst. just a teeny amount. reminds me of my own experiences with meddling students haha.

*updated 2/16/21*

#fic recs #hl #hlcreators #ao3 #in no particular order #message me for other fics! #yourlarrysource

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 18

First time reader click here

TWs/Summary: We stan ✨women in science✨. Bruce uwu. Twitter social media AU nobody asked for. Stephen and Tony are dicks and I'm not talking about their anatomy. Setting up mood for Bruce smut, ngl. PTSD makes things spicy. I'm depressed so please be kind ✌🏻💀🙃

"I really do wonder how can you two fit those egos of yours in your pants," I kept my tone forcefully casual, cheerful even. "Why don't you just fuck already?"

I was met with stunned silence. Suddenly, the room seemed far too large and the people in much too quiet, staring at me with various expressions of horror obvious in their faces. As the strange friendship began developing between me and the team, my "outbursts" - how Steve liked to call them - lessened considerably. I had no need to provoke them into giving me attention, just striking up a casual chat was enough. The Avengers were great conversationalists, to my surprise.

Tony and Stephen, when paired, were the exception. I could count on one hand the amount of times they successfully came to a conclusion without fighting like cats and dogs. It was like each man had made it a personal mission to verbally top the other, more often than not resulting in a thirty-minute shitshow ending with one storming off in a dramatic flourish. It was mind-boggling how two supremely intelligent men could not find a way to communicate efficiently without infuriating the rest of the team.

Plus me. One way or another, I was almost always around. In the beginning, it was hilarious to see the free circus but it got old really quickly when they couldn't decide on dinner or a movie, leaving the rest of us starving and bored. Or the great Cloak debate - that one lasted days and the fussy thing was so upset, it point blank refused to part from Peter for a substantial amount of time. It's pretty fucking creepy that a semi-sentient, ancient piece of outerwear watches you when you sleep - just sayin'. I personally interjected with my own snark and sass whenever Tony and Stephen got too heated, successfully drawing the attention to myself. The fight broke up and I had amazing sex with Tony later, it was a win-win scenario.

Yet, Tony and Stephen didn't stop. To me, their way of "talking" (and I use that term loosely) looked a lot like unresolved sexual tension. Stephen frequently used his greater height to tower over Tony in a childish attempt to establish dominance; the engineer was no rookie and responded with extravagant peacocking such as "subtly" tapping the bracelet that hosted his nanotech suit or parading at dinner in a $30,000 custom made designer outfit. Because Tony could.

I was pleasantly surprised when Natasha started laughing at my remark. Full-blown, belly laugh. Those were rare, coming from the Widow, her usual mirth was quiet, sophisticated, just like her. Deadly (adorable). Bucky followed suit, snorting together with Clint and Loki.

Steve looked none too pleased with me. But then again, was he ever? "Doll, don't be rude."

"Brat," Bruce said at the same time, palming his face.

"People always call me a brat. And guess what, Steve?" I popped my hip, twirling a cotton candy pink coloured Dum-Dum between my fingers. "What can you do about it? Nothing," I shrugged, leaning my head against Bruce's shoulder affectionately.

Steve just shook his head in disappointment. "Can we get back on topic? Please?"

"Captain, I think that Stark..." Strange began talking with Tony dramatically groaning in the background and I instantly tuned out the useless babble. Steve should've been smarter and revoked speaking rights from Tony and Stephen. Or asked Loki to magically render them both mute for ten minutes.

"You're not wrong," Bruce quietly whispered next to my ear. "Ten bucks says Wanda meddles and those two finally work out their frustrations," The scientist hid a grin against my head. I felt the amused, giddy energy radiating off him like a plasma beam.

"I don't even have to bet," I rolled my eyes. "If she doesn't do it, I will."

Both Tony and Stephen were throwing me equally infuriated glances. One promised me a good, hard fucking and the other saw me a short, poisonous lecture on appropriate behaviour in the nearest future - you can guess which is which. If I had it my way, I'd skip the lecture and go straight to a hot, filthy threesome with two men twice my age. I wasn't blind, Strange was hot as hell and could be decent and even nice once in a blue moon.

He could, but he wouldn't be. I wanted that raw, unadulterated lust, tension so concentrated it walked the razor's edge between violent craving and repulsion. Ever since the incident with Clint, I had this ugly mess inside of me, like a live wire about to snap. My brain was constantly racing, darting between how utterly useless I am in a group of supers and embracing my normal-ness, amplifying it by hosting game nights and spending time trying to convince people to start a dungeons and dragons campaign. Or something.

My sleep was like Swiss cheese, riddled with holes where I stayed awake for one or two hours at a time in the middle of the night after waking up sweaty, with my heart hammering out of my chest. Sometimes I dreamt of Clint's lifeless, sickly white body, sometimes the whole room flooded with blood and I couldn't stop it no matter what, there was so much of it, I drowned in it, I startled up with the taste of it in my mouth. Rarely, the worst of it came - the one where Clint was alive as millions of millions of little fluorescent, poisonous jellyfish burst out of him and he screamed and screamed and screamed...

I had PTSD. Yay, me. As if my uselessness wasn't enough of a burden, my brain decided for me that it wasn't good enough that I saved Clint and now it was punishing me for being close to a group of people who routinely saved the WORLD.

I contemplated my usual habits - going to a party, getting trashed and dancing until my legs were numb. I just wanted to shut my brain off for a moment, give it a hard reset so-to-say, but with Tony on my back like a jet-pack, I didn't doubt he'd show up to the place and drag me out of there even if I was kicking and screaming. And he was a Stark, a billionaire, so visiting my dad in Cali wouldn't be possible on my own. Tony would gas up the jet and the rest of the team would find and excuse to tag along, too. As much as I loved being the baby menace who could get away with anything, I hated the way they all herded me, like I was an actual child. I couldn't get away from myself, not even for a moment.

I had the backup-backup plan and I was going to have to execute it. Desperate times, desperate measures. "I don't doubt y'all enjoy listening to Tony and Steph flirt," The nickname escaped unmoderated from my lips before I could catch myself. "But what are we doing for Halloween? I need to know if I gotta get a costume," Bruce chuckled next to me and wrapped an arm around me, happy for the distraction. Unlike me, the scientist was obligated to listen and participate in the avengers-themed discussion. Which was difficult because the engineer and the sorcerer constantly bickered, inadvertently taking over the talk.

"Halloween?" Steve groaned.

"We should do something," Bucky side-eyed his boyfriend. "For the children." Something told me he wasn't thinking of the children, at all. The man was positively leering, probably thinking about what kind of a tight suit he could convince Steve to squeeze into.

"A party!" Tony immediately exclaimed, interrupting Stephen mid-setence.

"Tony, no," Steve stated firmly.

"Tony, YES!" Clint perked up. "A snack bar. A bar-bar."

"I will not be helping you all if you get alcohol poisoning," Stephen crossed his arms.

"So it's a party," I stated firmly, throwing a contemplating look at Wanda and Pietro. The twins looked unsure but excited. I knew I could count on fellow young people to support my decision to have fun, dance a little, drink a little. Let loose. To nail my point, I turned to Bruce with a mischievous smirk. "Fifty bucks says Stephen is too stuck up to show up in costume."

"Beg pardon?!" The sorcerer exclaimed. His eyebrows threatened to meet his hairline.

"I think you give him too little credit, Princess," Bruce winked at me and we solemnly shook hands. It was great having a fellow partner in mischief. Loki's approving smirk just sealed the deal for me.

"It's not my fault you sometimes act like you have a stick up your butt," I gave in the way of explanation, shrugging my shoulders innocently in Stephen's direction. "I'm just pointing out the obvious."

"I don't dare to imagine what's been up yours," The sorcerer retorted dryly, in an uncharacteristically childish fashion, arms still crossed. It almost looked like he was pouting.

"Tony," I simply said, leering salaciously at the man.

"Ooh, kinky," Clint reached over and we promptly high-fived each other in the wake of multiple embarrassed groans emanating around the room. "Strange, you're a boring old man, get over it."

"And you regularly end up in dumpsters, Barton," Strange retorted quickly. "Not my idea of fun."

"You wouldn't know fun if it hit you in the face!" Tony grinned triumphantly, confident in his superiority over Strange. Look at that, the team was doing the work for me and I didn't even have to try.

"I'll show you fun," Stephen retorted darkly. It was obvious the man was planning something.

"Ok, boomer," I raised my eyebrows in muted satisfaction before turning around and grabbing Bruce to drag along with me. "I'm confiscating your best scientist to amuse myself. I am bored. We will go and do actual science whilst y'all argue. Bye."

My patience had run out. We were examining the parasites we found in the murder-anthropods-from-space, codename MAFS, courtesy of yours truly, and their amazing properties to penetrate cell membranes and feed on metals in organic life forms. Without Bruce's help I understood maybe half of it but he had the patience of a saint and dutifully and understandably explained to me the finer points of studying aliens. Signing half a dozen NDAs was never more worth it.

Steve's sigh consisted of 99% suffering and 2% disappointment. Natasha face-palmed silently in the corner, clutching a mug of coffee, a poster child for existential dread.

"Wait for me," Tony whined, going for the door and promptly being stopped by Steve pointing out the team needing his input on one mission or another. The engineer sighed. "Baby girl, don't let the green mean to start any experiments without me." Tony instructed, pointing an accusatory finger in our direction.

I clutched at Bruce dramatically, feigning hurt feelings and was rewarded with a swift motion of his arms. I shrieked delightfully at being thrown over the scientist's shoulder as he hastened his pace towards the elevator, hightailing it out of there. "I'd never snitch on science daddy," I wiggled my eyebrows in Tony's direction, sticking a hand down the back pocket of Bruce's pants, dangling over his shoulder like a happy sack of potatoes.

The lab smelled strongly of alcohol and bitter chemicals, the solution that Bruce developed to ensure the optimal state of the alien pathogens. The man's genius never ceased to amaze me: Bruce came up with the needed formula in the span of a few hours while running low on sleep, post a Hulk-out session.

We put on our protective gear - "science onesies" I called them - along with a respirator and goggles and set to the segregated part of the lab where the specimens were kept under a blue light. The glass wall between Bruce's and Tony's lab was dimmed; I reflected in it, looking positively futuristic in my double-stacked white platformed boots and white hazmat suit.

"Wait," I motioned to Bruce to come over.

"Oh, right, our music," He was already half-way to being in total Science Mode. "Friday, please put on the "Get Schwifty" playlist, 60% volume."

The playlist that me and Bruce came up with for our lab sessions. The man was such an adorable dork. Thirty percent my music, thirty percent of his indie rock shit and forty percent 00's bops. In other words, utter perfection.

I finally managed to fish out my phone from my pants. "No, let's take a selfie," I struck an impressive pose and pointed the camera as Avril Lavigne sung the first verse to Sk8r Boi.

Bruce laughed but abided by the request, giving me bunny ears in the photo, tapping the fingers of his other hand on my waist to the rhythm of the song.

"He was a skater boy, she said see ya later boy!" I sang along, switching my Instagram to stories and posting the short clip of us just vibing with the caption #sciencetime, Bruce laughing openly behind his respirator. I looked cute and silly in my outfit.

"Send the video to me, I'll post it on my Twitter," Bruce requested. I indulged him then put my phone away, ready to conquer the world of microbiology. Or die trying. Science was calling...

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie

#stephen strange x y/n #bruce banner x y/n #tony stark x y/n #stephen strange x you #bruce banner x you #tony stark x you #stephen strange x reader #bruce banner x reader #tony stark x reader #party favours #bun writes #avengers social media au

[kayvsworld]

Definitive ranking of the SPN comics from bad to worse

Definitive ranking of the SPN comics from bad to worse

1. Supernatural: Caledonia/The Dogs of Edinburgh

OK SO the art in this comic is fucking BUCK WILD. it tests my fight or flight response at every turn. Everyone is melting and anatomy isnt real and it’s absolutely delightful 1000/10. this art fucks

Do you want to read a story that uses supernatural’s characters without actually wanting to be a supernatural story at all, instead painfully spiralling into a tale of sam winchester (not played by jared padalecki) falling in love with a manic pixie dream girl? also guns? if so, this is the comic for you!! 

the ending is the most melodramatic thing ive ever seen in my life, and i laughed a lot, though that was not the intended reaction i dont think.

very bad. very fun  (for the first half) if you ignore the feeble attempts at a plot and just marvel at the vibes :)

2. Supernatural: Beginning’s End

Is it good? obviously not, its an spn comic, but it IS a GENUINE spn comic—meaning that it actually feels like it could maybe fit into spn. it focuses on the relationships between john and the boys, and has a fun monster-of-the-week vibe that we dont get with any of the others. the art is also bearable. 

is it still racist, mind-numbingly sexist, and desperately searching for a coherent plot? yes, it’s an spn comic,

fun fact: there are also several instances of on-page physical abuse, which is one of many reasons why i now believe i should be legally permitted to hunt john winchester for sport!

3. Supernatural : Origins

do you wish john winchester was the protagonist of supernatural? OF COURSE NOT! NO ONE DOES!! but between these pages you will find, in eye-straining colour and questionable (but compelling) art, the answers to your deepest questions:

where did john get the impala? where did he get the empty notebook that became John’s Notebook? how many strangers can he ditch his kids with in the span of 48 hours? the adventure is yours to explore

the plot is so bad. it’s so so so bad. they have an OC in a cool hat that they made to hold john’s hand and lead him to, like, every familiar john winchester backstory touchstone, just so you, the reader, can point at the page and go “oh! the roadhouse! i remember the roadhouse. oh! that creepy doctor guy! i know who that is”. pastor jim gets a tragic backstory. no i am not kidding

literally the only reason this is ranked lower than Beginning’s End is that i was bored out of my Entire skull,, HOWEVER,,,,,,,,,,there IS one section where they’re trying to get to an inn at the end that i did legitimately enjoy. so.

4. Supernatural: Rising Son

this comic really transported me into the world of supernatural, in that i truly felt like i was experiencing being trapped in a goddamn car with john winchester for six straight hours against my will. why did they do this to me

every woman is either 1) a mother, 2) Uncomfortably Sexualized 3) target practice, OR if ur TRULY INSPIRED, 4) ALL OF THE ABOVE!!!! do you love john winchester more than any other spn character. do you want to see 2 pages devoted to john winchester, the worst winchester, having sex. do you hate women. this will thrill u

 i did not pay for this reading experience but i still feel that i deserve a refund

VERDICT: please don’t read these. they are, for the most part, not even fun-bad (except for #1 which is just. inspired and felt like a bad indie comic with the names tacked on). i feel like my time was deliberately wasted. learn from my sacrifice 

#laexploradoraaa #kayvswords #kayvsspn #:^) #spncomics

[therockerfromspace]

The complete list of Easter Eggs in "The Thing About"

As promised on my AO3 account, here's the complete list of Easter Eggs that I scattered into my The Thing About Harry Fanfiction, "The Thing About".

Chapter 1:

- Harry singing Shawn Mendes is a reference to Harry's Shawn Mendes vest top in the motel scene in the film.

- Shawn's song "If I Can't Have You" is also played over the scene where Harry runs to the rally to confess his love for Sam.

- Sam loving Grey's Anatomy is a reference to Jake Borelli's role as Levi Schmitt in Grey's Anatomy.

Chapter 2:

- Not really an egg but Stasia's Toy Story pyjamas are a reference to Harry's favourite film being "Up", as revealed in the motel scene.

Chapter 3:

- Reference to the Chvrches concert - the opening of the film has "Here With Me" by Marshmello and Chvrches over the pan of the city and then into Sam's room.

Chapter 4:

- Britt Baron voices Tifa in the "Final Fantasy VII Remake", hence the Final Fantasy game on the PlayStation.

Chapter 5:

- Stasia loving Kate Nash is a reference to GLOW, the show Britt Baron and Kate Nash both starred in, as Justine Biagi and Rhonda Richardson respectively.

Chapter 6:

- Troye Sivan is on the soundtrack of the film - "What A Heavenly Way To Die" plays in the motel scene.

Chapter 8:

- Another tenuous link but the previous Freeform Original movie, "Same Time, Next Christmas" has protagonists named Olivia and Jeff (yes, I have seen too many Freeform Original Movies. No I will not be commenting further at this time.).

Chapter 9:

- Harry being a Jock zombie is because Harry initially plays into the "dumb promiscuous Jock" stereotype (obviously this is unravelled during the film.).

- Sam is a Doctor because Grey's Anatomy and Jake Borelli's role as Levi Schmitt.

Chapter 13:

- Stasia is seen being a commitment-phobe throughout the film until she meets Zach, but I wanted there to be emotional reasoning behind this.

Chapter 14:

- So generally I tried to make their dreams align with their characters?

- Stasia wanting to travel I just felt fitted with her, her not wanting to settle down etc.

- Sam running for Council Elections or work in a Political capacity is because he has a politics degree, and is seen working for various candidates throughout the film (e.g. Nadia Kusto for Mayor).

- Zach wanting to be a chef is a reference to Japhet Balaban's role in the short film "Bitter Melons", where he plays Brett.

- Harry says in the Motel scene that all he's ever known is that he definitely wants kids.

Chapter 15:

- On the road trip, Sam ends up swerving and nearly hitting a truck, leading to Stasia calling him "a fucking awful driver".

- The "road trip to hell" is the road trip to Liberty where Sam drives Harry to Kelly and Kris's engagement party.

Chapter 16:

- Sam and Harry's ties (blush and crimson) are a reference to the coloured suits they wear to Stasia and Zach's wedding towards the end of the film.

- Stasia wearing a suit to Sam and Harry's wedding is a reference to her wedding outfit.

- "You can never fall in love with your best friend" is Sam's past situation with Malcolm which is referenced throughout the film. That you shouldn't date friends because you end up losing a friend and a partner.

- Sam and Harry's honeymoon to Barbados is due to Niko Terho's recent trip there (there are pictures on his Instagram).

Chapter 17:

- I assumed most of you would make this link, but to me, Amy is the baby we see at the end of the film! She's played by Jake Borelli's IRL niece.

- Scab the dog is two Britt Baron references. The first is Justine's wrestling persona in GLOW is Scab. Britt Baron also owns a Pitbull in real life. (again there are pictures on her Instagram).

- Casey is Sam's roommate, who is played by Peter Paige (who also wrote and directed the movie!).

I think that's everything! Thank you all for reading, I appreciate all the love I have got on this fic.

This film deserves all the love it gets.

#fanfiction #fanfic #the thing about harry #the thing about #sam baselli #niko terho #britt baron #japhet balaban #jake borelli #harry turpin #stasia hooper #easter eggs #fic notes #god i love this film

[nightsonights]

sleeve- z.k.

masterlist

summary: zion gets his sleeve and doesn’t forget about you ;)

warnings: the slightest smut, absolute fluff

authors note: i’m back! feels like i haven’t posted in forever. remember, my inbox is open to requests (might take me a little bit to write them but regardless). enjoy!

•••

i sat in hypnotic daze at the squint inducing LED display of the TV. my manicured hand reached into the polymer bag to retrieve another corn-baked snack.

the credits quickly rolled from the current episode of grey’s anatomy; netflix inquiring of my current engagement. my hand retreated in disappointment as it gave up its search through the empty reminiscence of cheese dust and polypropylene.

i reached for the remote when i caught sight of the orange dust that had seeped into the creases of my fingerprint. i mentally scolding myself at the pigsty state i had afflicted upon myself.

the cheese dust fingers. the wrappers hang daintily on the foggy glass of the coffee table. the unconscious awareness of elapsed time watching Netflix.

deciding enough was enough, i lifted my weight from the plump cushions of my couch and carried myself to the kitchen sink.

i towered over the silver faucets lining the sink and switched them on in opposite positions. i laundered my hands with the fruity soap nearby, rubbing over the small tattoos lining the length of my fingers.

i smiled to myself as i recalled the mocking tone of zion on the topic of tattoos earlier that morning.

~~~

/“mY fInGeRs taTs lOok dOpe”/

“stop! they slap bro!” i protested, playfully hitting his bicep.

“tHey SLaP brO.” zion threw his head back as he giggled at his playful derisive.

“you’re so annoying”

“i’m just joking witchu. i think your tattoos are... okay” he sided, shrugging his shoulders in comprise-able comprehension.

i let out a short scoff at his lack of impression. “you’re one to talk, flower boy” i teased, referring to the tattooed rose that stood out on the bare of zion’s forearm.

“okay talk your shit now but when i get my sleeve, it’s gonna be hard,” he rubbed his biceps in a boastful manner, “harder than your little finger tats.”

~~~

i washed over the palms of my hands once more before letting the transparent liquid seep through the slips between my fingers. the orange artificial cheese hugged the drops of water and together they slithered down the drain.

i quickly retreated to the living room with clean hands and the full intention to continue my sinful Netflix marathon.

as i plopped onto the faux fur decorative throw blanket that lined the couch, the house alarm indicated that someone had entered.

“kaliyah?” zion called out, his voice vibrating throughout the empty spaces of the house.

“i’m in the living room!”

within a few silent footsteps, zion towered over the loose-cushion back of the couch. his large palms fell to the board of my shoulders; massaging his fingertips into the slips of my scapula.

i melted into his touch, reaching to direct his hands to my most pained areas. i let out a sigh as his hands left my shoulder blades; leaning down to plant a small peck on the soft of my cheek.

“hey baby. how was your day?” he inquired.

“it was good, just catching up on grey’s” i replied, tilting my head up admirably at my boyfriend.

my eyes traced venerably over his attractive features. the curtain of platinum blond locs that hung over his dark, passionate eyes. the loose fitting graphic tee that lightly brushed against his muscle structure.

my examination travelled to his arms, my breath suddenly hitching in my throat at the recognition of the plastic wrap encasing his arm.

“um, z? what’s going on with your arm?” i inquired; eyebrow furrowed as i studied the series of cartoon characters dotting his upper and lower limb.

“oh this? i went to get some ink after work” he acknowledged, glancing down at the fresh puncture of pigment.

“some ink? z, it’s your whole arm. come here, let me see” i urged, patting the spot on the couch next to me.

zion circled around the arm of the long upholstered seating place, plopping down onto the cushion. i gently extended his arm, examining the intricate piercings of the fictional personas.

“it’s just an outline. i have to go back for some shading this week” zion protested, watching nervously as i took in the intricacy of the fictional artistry.

“why didn’t you tell me?” i inquired, my bottom lip sticking out in a pout.

“why? do you not like it?”

i glanced up into his doubtful eyes. “yeah, it’s dope. for a nintendo colouring book.”

i let out a series of unrestricted giggles as zion rolled his eyes dismissively. he sheepishly bit the inside of his cheek; attempting to suppress the laugh threatening to slip past his lips.

“haha good one,” he passively brushed off,” but seriously, do you think it’s okay?”

“yeah baby, it’s hot. id fuck you”i shrugged.

“you’d fuck me huh?” zion challenged.

his large hands groped the soft of my thighs; fingers lightly dancing along the bare of my inner thigh.

“hmm” i hummed, catching onto his salacious proposal and holstering my leg over his pelvis.

zion hooked his finger underneath my chin and slowly reeled my lips onto his fleshy embodiment of love. the kiss left me lightheaded at its simplicity; zion teeth tugging at my bottom lip as he pulled away.

his lips parted to form a sentence but i quickly reunited our moment of fervent inclination. the tension from whatever he needed to say disintegrated as i shifted closer to him; deepening the kiss.

his body hitched forward; lips trying to mirror the hunger found in mine. i gently placed my hands on his chest, signalling him to stop.

“we should go to the room” i suggested, thinking about the tedious work a cum stain would leave on the couch.

i excitedly lifted myself from his lap, reaching for the remote to turn off the tv.

“kaliyah, hold on” zion pleaded, reaching toward to catch my wrist.

“what? i mean, we could do it on the floor but i mean the bed would be more comforta-“

“no, it’s not that” zion interrupted, half smiling at my enthusiasm.

“then what’s wrong?” i inquired.

“i have something to show you” he voiced, ushering me to have a seat.

“okay?” i giggled cautiously at zion’s sudden serious tone.

“don’t be mad at me okay?” zion preferenced, his smile nervously twitching.

zion proceeded to tilt his head, folding the flexible cartilage encasing his external ear. squished between the petroleum jelly and plastic rap stood a nonchalant K.

i lightly traced its swollen properties, brow furrowed at its insignificance. “this is cute.”

zion whipped around to face me, frantically batting his lashes at me in astonishment.

“just cute?” he clarified.

“yeah, i think it’s a cute family tat. kekleli and elom should get one. make it a sibling thing” i suggested innocently.

zion let out a breathy chuckle as he shook his head at my ignorance.

“what? isn’t it just your last name? k for kuwonu” i puzzled as he continued to find the situation amusing.

“that’s a good coverup but i didn’t get this as a family tattoo. i got it for you” zion declared.

i abruptly let out a sharp gasp; clasping my shaking hand over the wide of my mouth. i stared at zion in complete incredulity.

his eyes sparkled with excitement as the corners of his mouth contagiously remained upwards.

“z, you didn’t have to do this” i breathed, misty tendencies forming in my eyes.

“i know, i wanted to do this” zion paused to massage away the lone tears painting my cheeks, “you mean everything to me.”

“you’re amazing z. this is beautiful. thank you. i love you” i cooed, pressing my lips against his.

“you’re welcome baby. i love you too” zion replied as we both feel back onto the couch; eager to reel in the benefits of our love.

#prettymuch #zion kuwonu #prettymuch preference #zion kuwonu preference

[hypnoshatesme]

All Eyes

The world was over but the hallway stayed the same, even if hallways outside ceased to exist as they used to. Gerry spent a lot of time in it. So did Michael. They had to do little to feed anymore as the only thing certain about the new world was the fear. So they often spent their time in the hallways, doing nothing in particular, and, sometimes, everything.

It was the closest Gerry had ever come to having a normal home where he spent more time in it rather than hunting down books or doing research to find them. In a way, it felt nice. It didn't matter that his home gave him a headache. It was slight. He'd had worse.

Gerry was sitting by the open door, as he often did, smoking and watching the world burn, metaphorically and literally. His eyes were eager to drink all in, even the ones covered by clothes seeing just fine, seeing details he realistically shouldn't be able to see.

His original two eyes were looking into the middle distance, not focusing on anything as he drank in the suffering. Part of him wished it wouldn’t feel quite so natural, but he knew that was pointless to linger on. This was his life now. And Gerry wasn’t sure whether he liked it worse than how it used to be before. He probably should.

Too long, too thin arms wrapped around him from behind as a too heavy head came to rest on his own. Neither felt right, but this sense of wrongness had become a comfort. It still made Gerry's head buzz slightly, and he welcomed it. He wasn't completely numb to everything, at least.

"Enjoying a meal?", the words fell from Michael’s lips directly into Gerry’s ears, like it was talking directly into them, not resting its head on top of Gerry’s.

It used to give him a headache, that voice, but now the distorted many layered noise made him buzz pleasantly and he leaned into the hug. Gerry couldn’t really bring himself to like this less than before.

"Yeah.", he mumbled, flicking the ashes of his cigarette down. The door was on some kind of high building or tower right now. It didn't matter. The world looked the same everywhere. Gerry could see.

Michael's finger came to trace it's way down the side of gerrys neck, around the eye right under his left ear, currently trained on some poor bastard being fucked over by the Stranger. Gerry shivered. The eye had done little to make that spot any less sensitive.

The fingers wandered further, between the cluster of eyes on his neck, all watching different horrors. They were forced to blink as Michael dragged its finger between them. With this cluster, Michael had no problem getting through while his finger kept its three dimensional shape. Some of the eyes were too close to each other for that.

Michael brought its hand down Gerry’s arm, eyes there fluttering close, irritated by being interrupted in their watching. It didn't bother Gerry much personally. He loved the slight electricity of Michael’s touch.

Gerry had plenty other eyes that were still wide and taking in the fear that had now become the only thing really there on earth. It was a feast, really. Gerry hummed as Michael digged his sharp fingernails into Gerry’s arm, feeling the muscle.

"What about you?", Gerry mumbled, leaning his head back a little. It did little to see Michael’s face. His chin was out of focus, though, and Gerry wasn’t sure if it was his brain or if Michael was just not bothering to keep its shape somewhat.

Michael chuckled, "Mhm, there's currently quite a few lost in the hallways. Been making for a good snack for quite some time now."

Gerry nodded, turning his head around to press his lips against Michael's throat. It felt as wrong as ever, and Michael made some sort of noise that sounded like a pleased buzzing. Gerry grinned at that.

Gerry had wondered in the beginning if he would ever run into any of Michael’s snacks while wandering the hallways. He had asked, once, watching Michael changing the colours of the hallway out of boredom, losing its form more and more as it was having, what Gerry assumed, some sort of fun. It would be cute, if watching Michael dissolve into spirals and patterns and colours, drifting apart, moving together, everything at once wouldn’t still make Gerry’s headache spike.

"Only of you want.", Michael had chuckled, shrill and gleeful, and Gerry had to control the urge to press his hands to his ears. It was too late anyways. The sound was already in his head and it was making his brain vibrate in his skull. "I don't mind sharing food.", Michael laughed, its laugh head-splitting and Gerry managed a pained grin, hands clenched into fists underneath his folded arms over his chest. His knees felt a little wobbly.

Michael was coming together again, and then it was right in front of Gerry, wrapping too-flexible arms around Gerry’s neck, “Too much?”, it giggled, and this time Gerry’s head didn’t feel like bursting.

It leaned its head against Gerry’s, ignoring the fact that a neck should not be able to bend like that. That was a big positive with Michael, Gerry guessed. There was little problem in pressing it close and kissing it at the same time if Gerry wanted, despite the height difference. Anatomy was a mere suggestion to it. And by now Gerry was getting used enough to it for his brain to not shut down at every wrong twist. Well, there was more fucked up shit going on outside. That probably helped with desensitising.

“Do you want to meet them?”, it asked, and its voice could barely contain the excitement radiating from its form.

Gerry shook his head slightly. He didn’t feel like adding to Michael’s playthings’ horror. Well, part of him did. Part of him was very curious about what their reactions might be. He wasn’t outside much anymore. He didn’t know how people might react, if they were still present enough to really see him. If they weren’t consumed by a different fear already.

Eventually, Gerry would probably give in to that curiosity, as always. But for now, he was fine, closing the gap to press his lips to what passed for lips on Michael, arms unfolding to bury in the ever-moving curls that eagerly wrapped themselves around Gerry’s fingers.

Gerry was used to his new existence. It had been a gradual process after the Eye took over. He had known that he was becoming too close to it before that already. It had been surprisingly easy to give up his humanity. He had been desperate. He hadn’t want to die yet.

And Gerry had always been too curious for his own good. He couldn’t have resisted for very long.

The eyes had started to appear when the tower became the centre of the new world and Gerry started to be able to see . It took some getting used to and he was thankful that they appeared slowly, new eyes breaking through skin at seemingly random. One more eye to watch another misery with.

Gerry had been dreading they'd take over his whole body, but after some time he had known that was it. There was still plenty of skin that was without eyes overall, through the eyes were often spread out so it wouldn't go long before there was another. Gerry didn't think he would care anymore. Except that he quite liked the feeling of Michael's fingers finding those patches, mapping them out with too sharp fingers. They didn't feel half bad when brushing over his eyes, but there was something about the spots that were still Gerry as he used to be that made Gerry shiver pleasantly.

Michael had let him stay in the hallways to give him a break from the overwhelming new experience of seeing. It was easier to get used to it that way. He couldn't see very well in the hallways. It distorted his vision. The eyes were eager to get out and take things in again, twitching and moving most of the time he was inside the hallways.

Gerry liked to draw it out, see how long he could go before the urge, the curiosity became too much and he’d had to open a door to look outside. Otherwise, it didn’t bother him. He joked about fitting in better, that way, watching Michael’s ever shifting and glitching form from where he was laying in Michael’s lap. Michael would be an absolute pain to draw, Gerry thought, and grinned. Michael laughed, high and painfully beautiful, or maybe beautifully painful.

It was hard to think straight with Michael’s long fingers touching his face tenderly, lovingly. Gerry would never figure out if it was due to Michael - or the hallway - fucking with his brain, or because of the fact that somehow Michael put himself together enough to clearly convey those feelings and that was just a little too much for Gerry to take. He was still very much himself, in that aspect. He sighed and closed his eyes, enjoying the touch of Michael’s finger against his lips.

All the mirrors in the hallways made Gerry stop getting too bothered by his reflection, too. Michael had offered to remove them for him when it caught Gerry stare at his reflection too intensely, looking anywhere between disturbed to outright disapproving. Gerry had shook his head. He was determined to get used to it. He was curious to see where the next one would be, to keep track of them. It was fine.

He did wish the eyes would have all been the same colour, though. They were messing up his aesthetic. Michael laughed when he heard Gerry complain about it once.

“I always told you some colour would look good on you.”, it had said, playfully twirling a strand of Gerry’s hair around its finger. Gerry had been relieved to find out that it had just stayed black for good after he started changing.

He huffed out an amused laugh, “And yet you seemed to be unable to resist the black.”

Michael tugged at the strand, covering Gerry’s mouth with its own as he let out a small whine. “Hasn’t changed.”, it muttered against Gerry’s lips, and Gerry rolled his eyes, but before he could say more Michael closed in again, wrapping its arms around Gerry and pulling him flush against its form.

Gerry let his cigarette fall to the ground beneath. Michael was tracing the eye at the back of his hand, seemingly enjoying finding out just how close it could go before the eye closed.

"You done?", it asked, pressing a kiss to Gerry’s forehead, right where his hair began. Its neck really shouldn’t bent like this, and Gerry was glad it did. The kiss felt nice and Gerry sighed.

"Think so.", he mumbled.

Michael got up and pulled Gerry to his feet and turning him around to face it. It pressed a kiss to Gerry’s cheek - the one relatively devoid of eyes - before pressing its lips to the cluster of eyes on the other, lingering there as it took Gerry’s hand in its own and squeezed gently. Gerry could never tell if Michael did this because he liked annoying the eyes or because it might like them.

Michael had been quite interested in the eyes from the beginning, fingers constantly coming to touch them whenever they were sitting around relaxing, Michael usually sprawled over Gerry’s lap at some ridiculous angle, barely bothering to keep his form humanesque since Gerry didn’t seem to mind it that much.

He used to keel over, overwhelmed with perceiving Michael’s chaos, but now he just scrunched up his nose a little, staring up - down? - at the ceiling - floor? - of the hallway. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered and nothing ever was right, and Gerry had come to just roll with it.

"Do they feel like eyes?", Michael had asked him, once, early on.

Gerry looked down at it, regretting it instantly as his headache spiked for a moment. He bit his lip and swallowed a grunt. Michael was slowly coming back into focus, as much as it ever did. It started to look vaguely human again.

Gerry sighed, running his fingers through hair that curled and wrapped around his fingers, seemingly caressing them, "Do you have any idea what eyes actually feel like, Michael?"

"No.", Michael said cheerfully, grin wide and sharp, but a little lopsided on its face, a little warped at the edges. “I was just curious. They react like your eyes when I touch them.”

“When have you ever touched my actual eyes?”, Gerry raised an eyebrow.

“That one time in the archive? It was an accident.”, its grin said otherwise.

Gerry took a moment before he remembered. That had definitely not been an accident. Gerry had been spacing out while Michael had been talking about something or another, or both at the same time, probably, and was suddenly jolted back into reality because Michael’s sharp fingertip was suddenly dangerously close to his eye.

Gerry scowled at the memory, making Michael laugh his shrill, shattering laugh, that still got under Gerry’s skin, but maybe in a slightly different way than when he had first heard it, “I remember now…”, he was trying to pull his hand away from Michael’s hair but the strands didn’t let go and he sighed, continuing to run his fingers through the too sharp hair. “Don’t do that again.”

“Why? You have eyes to spare now.”, it chuckled, and it reverberated around them until it seemed like the hallways were chuckling. In a sense, Gerry guessed, they were.

“‘Tis unpleasant. My eyes haven’t changed much. I’d like to keep them.”

Michael reached up, tracing Gerry’s cheek, the one that was relatively eyeless, “How sentimental.”

Gerry grinned, “You’re one to talk. You never change too much from Michael’s form.”

“I am Michael.”, it grinned.

Gerry returned the grin, “You really aren’t.”

Michael’s mouth curled into a cheerful smile, “That’s just as probable.”

Silence had settled as Gerry kept petting its hair, the strands becoming more and more staticy as Michael melted into the touch, then snapping back into something more corporal when it couldn’t actually feel Gerry’s fingers too well anymore.

“I think I want you to keep them, too.”, it eventually said, eyes focused on Gerry’s face.

Gerry looked back down, “Hm?”

It smiled, “Your eyes. They’re still the prettiest of all.”

Gerry laughed, “Is that so.”

It nodded, “I checked.”, the smile was toothy - still too many teeth, it never got that right, which was probably the point - as it brought a thin finger to trace Gerry’s jaw.

It was endearing to look at, adorable, really, and Gerry stopped questioning the fact that he thought that way a long time ago. He put his hand over Michael’s, running his fingers along the too big, too thin hand. The skin felt all off, but it was closer than it had been in the start. It didn’t cut anymore, at least. Michael was looking at his eyes now, the original two, smiling somewhat deamily. It looked really off, and Gerry chuckled. Its giggled.

Gerry had asked it, once, when there was sparsely a spot on him left without an eye, if it bothered it. He had sounded genuinely curious. Michael hovered over Gerry’s bare form, watching those eyes twitch and rapidly move, trying to see, to no avail. But they still tried, only the two original ones trained on Michael, heavy-lidded and expecting.

A couple of the others would join if Michael waited long enough, curiosity getting the better of them and, well, there was little else to look at for so many eyes in the hallway. Michael liked to wait, liked to guess which one would turn to meet its eyes, would like to give itself more eyes just to return all those gazes equally. Gerry rolled his original eyes when it did.

Michael licked what went for lips as about a dozen eyes settled on it, and it brought its long, pointed fingers down to travel up Gerry's sides, enjoying the bumps of the eyeballs underneath as they closed where his fingers passed. The noises falling from Gerry’s lips were delicious and Michael shivered, hands travelling over Gerry’s chest.

"Are you finally going to kiss me?”, Gerry gasped, when Michael’s fingers started wandering down his stomach, as it stared down at him, eyes frantic and wanting. Gerry somehow still managed to fit some annoyance in his breathy tone.

Michael laughed, "Mhm, I love when you get all impatient like this.", it purred, bending down, stopping when its face was mere inches away from Gerry’s. It could feel Gerry’s breath hitching as Michael brought his hands to his hips, thumb running over the navel piercing on its way.

Gerry looked up at it, meeting its eyes, "You love the weirdest shit, Michael.", he bit his lip as he felt Michael’s hand wander further south.

"You included?"

Gerry groaned at that, “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”, he buried his hands in Michael’s hair and finally pulled him into a bruising kiss, face burning a bright pink. Michael didn’t miss that, eyes never closing if it didn't want to - and it never did when they were looking at Gerry - and giggled into the kiss, before kissing back.

No, the eyes didn't bother Michael at all. There was something quite thrilling about it, a pleasant tingle running down its warped spine when it could feel the many eyes focusing on it. Michael wondered, distantly, if something might be wrong with it.

Ah, but that was the whole point, wasn't it?

#gerrymichael #Gerard Keay #gerry keay #michael the distortion #michael tma #fluff #body horror #? #depends on what you're into rly

[mymelodyheart]

Forget Me Not Chapter 8 ~Cuddles and Talks~

We're just going to cuddle. That's what he said to Claire before they left Lallybroch earlier. He groaned inwardly as Jamie replayed the images of them alone in his house, surrounded in quiet with all time restraints fading away. He knew he was setting himself for torture, knowing full well that this time there would be no distractions nor intrusions from his family. As much as he fought it, visions of Claire, naked on a pile of blankets by the fireplace, the light of the fire illuminating her pale skin, kept popping in his head. The thought made his cock twitch and tightened his muscles to the point of pain. It was going to be a very long night, and he wondered if cuddling would be enough to assuage the aches from years of wanting her. But they needed to have that talk before anything else went any further, and he had only five days to erase whatever doubts lurking behind Claire's eyes. 

Willie's reaction from earlier didn't go unnoticed.  What the fuck was that all about?  Jamie wanted to believe that it was nothing other than an overprotective older brother's response. Although he was relieved the rest of his family took their news in a stride, he couldn't help but feel the gnawing sensation in his guts that Willie's reaction was more than brotherly.

As he opened the door to his house, Jamie gestured Claire to precede him. "I'll get the fire started... and...uhm...ye can make yersel' comfortable," he said, trying to swallow what felt like a cotton ball lodged in his throat.  Christ, keep it together! The last thing ye need is Mick Jagger doing his stand up routine! Focus!

"I'll prepare the drinks. I saw you slipped a bottle of whisky in your bag, but I brought some red wine too." Claire walked in, kicking off her ankle boots and taking out bottles from her duffel bag that she placed on the floor in the process.

Following her to the kitchen to look for matches, Jamie's eyes involuntarily skimmed the length of her body as she slipped off her jacket and placed it on the worktop. His gaze settled on the black pants she wore, which was way too snug in the curves department. Good Lord, he figured restraint was going to be more difficult than he thought when he felt his heart relocate to his throat. He could feel it beating there painfully, making breathing difficult.

Thanks to boobs, Jamie first became aware of Claire's womanly charms at a tender age of twelve when one night she had agitatedly barged into his room, holding a tiny bra in her hand. At age ten, she was an early bloomer, and like his ma, he hadn't failed to notice the changes that were occurring with her body. "Ma says I have to start wearing these because my tits jiggle when I run," she wailed while waving the offensive undergarment in the air.

Naturally, his attention had been immediately drawn to her breasts. Alarmed like she was with her physique's transformation, part of him had been curious what it would have felt like to touch that part of her growing anatomy. Although guilt, shame and confusion plagued his thoughts, his love for Claire was always at the forefront of his mind. 

It had all started when three older boys stole his brand new bicycle. He was only ten, and she had been with him, on their way back home from school. The bullies had pushed Jamie off his bike, and Claire bravely fought back swinging his cricket bat at the offenders. She ended up being propelled into the mud and having her eyeglasses smashed. Instead of crying, she had run to Jamie to console him. "It's alright, Jamie, I'm here for you. I chased the bullies away. Don't you worry, I have a bit of pocket money saved, and I'll buy you a new bike. You know that I love you, don't you?" she had crooned in his ears, sounding like a sweet angel that she was, her small hands rubbing his back. 

From that moment on, looking into her huge honey, coloured eyes, he knew he would love her forever and swore to himself to protect her whatever harm or hurt came her way.

"Jamie, is there hot water? I would like to have a shower first." Snapping out of reverie, he noticed she had turned around, puzzled features staring back at him, golden eyes big and questioning.  Why does she look all flustered all of a sudden?

 Suddenly aware that his expression must have spoken of all sorts of filthy intentions, he mentally kicked himself on the arse. Remedying that split second of awkward moment, he closed the distance between them. Framing Claire's jaw with both hands, he kissed her briefly, careful not to make body contact. It was important to have his wits about him and not be distracted from what he had planned. "Aye, we had the boiler installed last week. Ye go have a shower, and I'll bring the drinks in the living room," he replied hoarsely. He needed a few moments to start breathing again and hopefully, by the time he started the fire and prepared their bed for the night, he would have regained control of his runaway thoughts.

Twenty minutes later, hearing Claire exit the bathroom, he lit the scented candles on the fireplace mantel, muttering to himself that all his preparations weren't any form of seduction.  Yeah right, Fraser lad, who are ye kidding!  He had five days to make their time together count and convince her that she's the only woman for him even though he would be leaving her side to help Annalise for an indefinite period. He didn't want to leave her doubting his love for her, fully aware of the many insecurities she had. And not to forget Frank,  that damn prick , who had his eyes set on his girl. Shaking his head to refocus on the present, he quickly scanned the room, glancing at the warm glow from the fireplace, the flickering light of the candles and the mattress in the centre of the room, layered with blankets and pillows. Satisfied with his handiwork, he poured whisky in two tumbler glasses. 

Claire walked in with bare feet wearing one of his shirts, the hem dangling just above her knees. His whisky glass froze midair as he watched her twirl her damp locks into a bun on top of her head, keeping it in place with a hairband. She looked like she just stepped out from his wet dreams.  Christ, reel it in, lad. Stick to the plan...it's cuddles and talks, mind?  "Enjoy yer shower, Sassenach?" He thought he sounded like he swallowed a handful of sand with crushed glass. How could he ever withstand leaving her when its time to go to France?

"I did." She paused for a while before saying anything further, her eyes lighting up as she took in the room. "Aww, Jamie, this is so romantic and cosy. Are you trying to seduce me?" She laughed, the words coming from her own mouth seemed to have startled her, making crimson slowly creep up her neck.

Ignoring her question, he stifled a groan. "Do ye like it?"

She nodded eagerly, the smile on her face making his chest ache. "Sorry for nicking your t-shirt. I prefer them to my pyjamas."

So do I.  For as long as he could remember, Claire had taken to using his t-shirts as her nightwear, and he loved the idea of her wearing something that belonged to him. Refilling his own glass, before handing her a tumbler of whisky, he hoped the task would lower his pulse enough to enable him to concentrate. "Nick away...ye look better in it than I do." 

"Na-uh, not true. You fit in it nicely in all the right places," Claire replied softly, her eyes animating playfully as she took a sip of the single malt, a different hue of red spreading across her cheeks.

Jamie took a healthy gulp of his own drink, instantaneously feeling the lethargic effect of the whisky, making him loosed-tongue and relaxed. "Christ Sassenach, keep talking like that and ye're going to see what's underneath really fast." Taking the glass from her, he turned away to place their tumblers on the floor with a resounding whump. "Come here."

Claire didn't hesitate. In a heartbeat, she was stood before him, her arms around his neck, and on tiptoes gazing into his eyes. She tilted her head to the side and quirked an eyebrow. "You're still in your jeans. Don't tell me you're going to sleep in that...that can't be comfortable," she breathed, making his head whir.

"Aye, I'll change later," he replied a little too gruffly, one hand unconsciously raking through his hair. Jamie was grateful for the snugness of his jeans, hiding the torturous throb of his cock, that seem to be in a full protest mode, begging to be freed. He stirred the conversation to a safer subject. "I wish I had more comfortable furniture in the house...maybe ye could help me once the house is completely done."

"Jamie, don't worry about it. Making a house a home takes time. Besides, it's a charming set up for cuddles and talks."

"Aye, that's the plan." God help him, he wanted to take it slow, but here they were in an empty house with a girl he loved almost all his life. She was so trusting, provocative with a side of cute, and her mouth was poised for a kiss. He knew if he succumbed to that kiss, he wouldn't be able to stop this time around. The plan was to spend the evening talking, and he was determined to see it through. Reluctantly, he eased her back away from him with a kiss on the nose. "Let's get ye under the covers, shall we?" he suggested in a low voice.

She nodded with a small smile, a slight frown puckering at her brows. "Alright, then." Turning away from him, she lowered herself onto the mattress, and instead of going under the blankets, she sat cross-legged, hugging a pillow close to her chest.

Jamie followed suit, lying on his side to face her, propping his head on one big hand with elbows braced on the pillow. He badly wanted to have her in his arms, but he knew if he so much as touch her, there would be no talking done. "Ye ken it's tearing my guts out to leave ye behind...ye only need to say the word, and I'll stay," he started.

Claire's head bobbed down as she tugged at the corner of the pillow, contemplating her response. When she finally looked up, she had a cloudy look on her face. "If you don't go, Jamie, you'll never forgive yourself, and if I told you to stay, one day you will resent me for it if ever the worse happens. And we have to remind ourselves, there's also a possibility you could become a father..." she said ever so quietly that he had to strain his ears to hear her.

He was distracted by the tension forming in her shoulders, but he refrained from reaching out. "And if I was the father, would that change anything between us?" Jamie studied her expression and tried to be quiet about letting go of the breath he'd been holding.

"I can't answer that, Jamie. I honestly don't know how I would feel. This...us...it's all new to me...and I'm just coming to grips with this whole transition of our relationship from what we were then to what we are now. I'm still trying to digest the fact that ma and da are alright with this...meaning us."

Jamie straightened and became aware of a dull ache ticking at his cheek. "Sassenach, do ye doubt our love for one another?" God, he was so in love with her, he wanted to bang his head on the floorboard.

Her eyes widened, seemingly shocked at the question. "Oh God no, not at all. I don't doubt the love between us. It's always been there, and always will be no matter what happens. We've had that since we were kids and that doesn't simply go away. But we can't deny that there's a possibility...that us...what we have now, our relationship...it might not work. And if that happens, I still want you in my life. You're too important to me, and it would devastate me if I lost you," she murmured, now tugging at the hem of Jamie's t-shirt that she was wearing.

"Ye'll never ever lose me, Sassenach. And why even go there...what makes ye think our relationship won't work? Because if it's about Annalise that ye're worried about, I will stay." He could feel an ooze of panic seeping out of his heart.  Christ, where is this conversation leading to?

"No.No. It's not Annalise." She sighed, taking a deep breath. "Did you know that, on my way back home on the train, all I could think of was Frank? I thought I was in love with him and then..." Jamie flinched at the mention of Frank.

"And then I kissed ye..." he said softly.

"Well, there's that among other things." She paused, unsure of what to say next. "Jesus Christ, damn it, sometimes I wish I had previous relationships to compare this...us to. It's so bloody confusing that I can hardly form a sentence that would do justice to what I actually want to say. What if...the bond we have is merely sibling love, and we're both mixing it up..." 

"Hold on a minute and stop right there, Sassenach..." Jamie was more confused than ever as a multitude of thoughts bounced within the walls of his brain.

Without warning, Claire got up and grabbed her whisky. "No, Jamie, I won't stop. You brought me here to talk, right? So we're going to talk. I'm confused because...because... you're giving me mixed signals..."

"Wh-what mixed signals? What do ye mean by that?" He watched her walked towards the fireplace and downed her whisky, an audible swallow coming from her throat.

Claire shook her head, staring into the fire. "When you first kissed me...it was very nice. No...it was more than nice. It was mind-blowing. I felt things...you know...I've never felt before," she stammered, trying to catch her breath. "And I wanted more, and every time I wanted more, you always pulled away. So it got me thinking, maybe you're confused about your love for me. And here I thought...when two people are in love, they can't keep their hands away from one another. Well...I can only go along with all those film romance I've watched. Maybe...just maybe, you're the one who's confused about us. I mean, I get it, really. I experienced first hand how I mistook my childhood infatuation for Frank for love and boom, just like that, suddenly all those years of thinking I loved him, was nothing but an illusion. Perhaps it was a disguise to what I actually felt about you because I always thought it would be unethical to fall in love with a foster brother. So I understand if that's what you're actually feeling and the kiss we had just confused you into thinking you were in love with me. That's the reason why you want to talk, right?" By now, she was babbling, still resisting to look at Jamie.

He stared at her with stunned disbelief. Here he was trying to do the right thing by taking it slow lest he scared her, and she thought he was pushing her away. He sighed, a load lifting off from his shoulders. After Claire's statement, he knew, there was no chance of getting his pulse to simmer down now. Getting up from the mattress, he walked to where she was stood and from behind, he reached out to take the glass from her hand and placed it on the mantelpiece. Claire stood still, not saying a word. He sensed she was trying her hardest to suppress the tears threatening to fall.

Dipping his head, Jamie grazed his lips against the side of her neck, resisting the urge to touch her. "Ye have nae idea, Sassenach, have ye?" he murmured close to her ears, his heart slamming against his chest. "Ye have nae idea how much it pained me not to touch ye the way I want to. Though I am less than impressed with what's going on through that pretty head of yers, I am rendered speechless by yer explanation of my actions." He leaned in closer, burying his face on the curve of her neck. "Now, what I am about to do is open to yer interpretation. And I look forward to hearing yer accounts of my efforts."

Claire spun around bringing their faces inches from each other, his one hand pressed against the edge of the mantelpiece, as he drifted towards her. She blinked like a madwoman, trying to read his eyes. "What are you trying to say?" she croaked.

Without warning, his mouth brushed against hers in agonising slowness. He wasn't rushed as he stared directly into Claire's widening honey coloured eyes, merely breathing against her lips, their warm breaths mingling. "I think we're done talking, for now, Sassenach. May I touch ye?" he asked hoarsely, his eyes dropping to her heaving breast.

..........

Holy Christ in cheese and crackers!

Nodding shakily, Claire cleared her throat to speak, but no words formed her lips. She lifted her head and saw eyes she'd never seen before. There was no longer a trace of the sweet Jamie she knew and in place was a man in severe need, the pain of sexual frustration etched across his face. He brushed his lips once more against hers, his breath tasting of whisky, and male while looking at her with erotically focused eyes. 

Jamie's hand hesitantly went under the hem of her shirt, and when she didn't object, his fingertips slid slowly to the side of her hips, tucking a blunt digit under the thin strip of her lace panties. Holding his breath, his hands stilled as if in anticipation. She almost cried as the movement ceased and his mouth continued to hover over hers, denying her of kisses. "I can stop right now, Sassenach," he rasped, his breath turning more shallow by the second. "Just say the word. But once I touch ye again, I dinna ken if I'll be able to stop."

Hearing a touch of a moan in his low expulsion of air, a delicious shiver coursed through her. Before the cogs of her brain could begin to function again, which seemed to be stuck in suspended animation, she placed both her hands on his chest. "Jamie, please make love to me." Her words seemed to ring out in the room, surprising herself.

Silence hung heavy between them as she watched Jamie's throat work as he swallowed. "Are ye sure, Sassenach? I don't want ye to have any regrets."

She touched her parted lips against his neck, extracting a guttural exhale from his throat. "There will be no regrets, and I will not change my mind," she said. To prove her point, she slowly took off her top, allowing them to fall on the floor and dipped her fingertips to the waistband of his jeans to pull him towards her.

Jamie's breath hitched, and she looked up to see his face. His eyes were closed as he swallowed convulsively. She was so surprised she could evoke this sort of reaction from him. When he finally opened his eyes, he stared down at her momentarily, his darkened blue resting on her naked breasts. "Christ Sassenach, I still can't believe that ye have absolutely no idea how beautiful ye truly are."

The reverence in his voice brought tears to her eyes. For as long as she could remember, it was always Jamie that reminded her she was beautiful. Memories of taunts and rejections faded into obscurity as her love poured out for the only person that mattered. Suddenly feeling conscious of her nakedness, she smiled shyly as she reached out to touch him. Muscles rippled beneath her fingertips as she smoothed her hands over his broad shoulders, his arms and sculpted chest. Elevating her feet onto her tiptoes, she kissed him, slipping her tongue into his warm mouth to stroke his. "And you taste of whisky," she said huskily, against his lips.

With a groan, Jamie took over, moulding one his hands on the back of her head, angling it for a deep kiss as his other free hand held her lower back against his arousal. He dragged his mouth along the underside of her chin, pressing a trail of hot kisses before stopping to playfully to nip at the side of her neck. When she moaned, he unexpectedly lifted her into his arms, making her squeak in surprise. "Time for bed," Jamie teased, the corner of his eyes crinkling. Although there was humour in his voice, there was raw hunger too evident in his expression. 

After easing her gently on the middle of the mattress, Claire watched through hooded eyes as Jamie stripped naked, before prowling toward her like a sleek animal about to devour his prey. Slowly he stripped off her panties, exposing her only for a second before his tongue teased her wet folds with a lick, before moving upward, leaving trails of kisses on its path. Her mouth went dry as she stared at his jutting cock.  Good Lord!  Expecting him to go on top of her, she was surprised when Jamie laid on his side, his arousal pressing against her thigh.

"Are ye alright, Sassenach?" he asked gently, his free hand pushing away a strand of hair away from her face. She could only nod and smile, feeling shy with the newly discovered intimacy.

Before she could guess his next move, he slipped a hand down ever so slowly between her legs to gently part them, eliciting a gasp to escape her lips. "Jamie...what are..."

Smothering her next words, he lowered his head to kiss her, his tongue stroking her lips while his fingers caressed the insides of her thighs with long gentle sweeps, making Claire whimper. "Oh God, ye're so wet, Sassenach..." he muttered under his breath, before running his mouth down to her breast to suckle a nipple.

A hard shudder went through Claire's body, making her gasp involuntarily. Encouraged by his bold moves, she ran her hands behind his back and kissed him back boldly, her hips writhing eagerly with each stroke of his finger. "Jamie, please...I want you on top of me," she breathed as shivers sparked through her, his caresses coaxing impatient movements.

A vibration ran the length of him as Jamie shifted his body, bracing his forearms on either side of her, giving Claire his weight little by little, both of them moaning at the contact. "Ye're so beautiful, Sassenach. I can't believe I'm with ye like this," he gritted, his hips grinding down, pushing the hard length of his cock between her thighs.

Squirming underneath his weight, a throbbing ache started to bloom between her legs, her hips pushing upward for more friction. "Jamie, please..." she begged.

Once more, Jamie slipped a hand between their bodies, and then his fingers were there, delving inside spreading moisture around her opening. He groaned as he surged over her, stopping to give her a hard, bruising kiss. Reaching for the pocket of his jeans, he took a foil packet and ripped it open with his teeth, his hand vanishing between them to cover his erection. "Look at me, Sassenach," Jamie bit out through his teeth. "I want ye to look me in the eye when I take ye."

Whimpering, she could only nod as she watched the sweat beading on his upper lip, her hands moving erratically all over his flexing muscles.

He bent his head to suckle on one of her breasts again, his tongue flicking at her sensitive nipple before positioning himself at the opening of her centre. Taking his cock in hand, he rubbed the throbbing tip around her moisture, moaning out loud as if he was a starving man.

Claire instinctively hiked her legs up high around his waist and pressed his taut arse with her heels as an indication of urgency, while bracing herself from the discomfort that threatened.

"I'm going deeper now," Jamie groaned, pushing his hips forward and letting loose a string of curses over her head. "Oh Christ, Sassenach, ye're so tight...so, so tight." Trembling with the strain of holding himself still, he stared into Claire's eyes. "Are ye alright? Did I hurt ye much?"

The sudden pressure of Jamie's penetration made her eyes water. "Just a little. But don't hold still, keep moving Jamie," she whispered as she shifted her lower body around, raining kisses on his jawline.

He complied, his jaw rigid with great restraint while his hips ploughed of their own volition, his large hands lifting Claire's hips tightly against him, controlling, rolling her with him in a primal rhythm. "Oh my God, Christ, Sassenach...ye feel so good."

The burn between her legs began to ebb as pleasure took hold, Claire moaning deliriously, as tension built within her core aching to be released. Her hands travelled down his muscular back to settle on the swell of his arse, pulling him close.

Grunting, Jamie shifted his hips slightly, angling his body so that part of him rubbed against her sensitive flesh. Staring down at Claire, he pumped his hips harder, his tongue tracing a path across her lips as he breathed heavily, pressure threatening to erupt from his balls. Then he felt her body quaking violently underneath him, her whole being gripping him tightly.

Claire's voice locked down, only allowing a strangled scream to emerge as she arched off the mattress, waves of pleasure engulfing her. Jamie gripped the underside of her knees, grinding her down, faster and faster, Claire watching in fascination, as Jamie found his own release, the cords of his throat stood out, his mouth open and her name on his lips. "Sassenach, Christ..."

Then they were both still, catching their breaths and holding on to each other, her legs still wrapped around his body. For Claire, it was the most incredible moment in her young life as she witnessed Jamie being rocked with tension to being utterly devoid of it. 

Moments later, Jamie lifted his head, searching her eyes as his hands cradled her face. As unspoken thoughts, but understood passed between them, Claire gave an answer to the silent question Jamie sought. "Jamie...I'm completely and irreversibly, totally in love with you," she said hoarsely, her arms wrapping around his waist.

Jamie gave her a brilliant smile, his handsome face lighting up with satisfaction. "Och Sassenach, I'm glad to hear it. It was all worth the effort to pry that answer from ye." Then he collapsed to her side, gathering her into his arms, and they both fell asleep with her head wedged beneath his chin.

#melodyheart #forgetmenot #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

[ageofevermore]

1-96

(1) Do You Sleep With Your Closet Doors Open Or Closed?

it’s a dual sliding door, so usually one sides open. but preferably, both doors are closed. 

(2) Do You Have Freckles?

sometimes in the summer, not often though. 

(3) Can You Whistle?

yes! 

(4) Last Song You Listened To.

well for some reason there’s a guy on my TV singing God Bless The USA

(5) What Is Your Favourite Colour?

purple

(6) Relationship Status.

single because my favorite omegle guy won’t answer me 

(7) What Is The Temperature Right Now?

48F / 9C

(8) Did You Wake Up Cranky?

i woke up wishing i was still asleep

(9) How Many Followers?

835

(10) Zodiac Sign.

Sun: Capricorn, Rising: Aries, Moon: Aquarius 

(11) What Is Your Eye Colour?

brown / hazel 

(12) Take A Vitamin Daily?

no

(13) Do You Sing In The Shower?

obviously, i’m not completely insane

(14) What Books Are You Reading?

whatever fucking book my english class assigned...

(15) Grab The Book Nearest To You, Turn To Page 64, Give Me Line 14.

i literally only have a text book by me and opening it is triggering

(16) Favourite Anime?

i don’t watch anime

(17) Last Person You Cried In Front Of?

my mom...about greys anatomy...but still my mom about christmas and my birthday. i cry alot, but i like REALLY cried about those two topics

(18) Do You Collect Anything?

chapstick, trauma, candles 

(19) What Did You Have For Lunch?

it’s only 10am and i haven’t even thought about breakfast 

(20) Do You Dance In The Car?

yes, and then my mom yells at me because i do nothing “subtly” and the entire car shakes

(21) Favourite Animal?

white siberian tigers, snow leopards, dolphins, and now elephants

(22) Do You Watch The Olympics?

unfortunately. i love gymnastics, but like, i’m not trying to watch men in toboggans and swim caps 

(23) What Time Do You Usually Go To Bed?

anywhere between 12pm and 3am

(24) Are You Wearing Makeup Right Now?

no, i never wear makeup because it makes me look more ugly

(25) Do You Prefer To Swim In A Pool Or The Ocean?

ocean

(26) Favourite Tumblr Blog?

besides my friends i don’t really have a favorite blog, i stick to my circle and don’t venture very far 

(27) Bottled Water Or Tap Water?

bottled. 

(28) What Makes You Happy?

i couldn’t tell you...

(29) Post A Gif Of What You’re Currently Feeling Right Now.

(30) Do You Study Better With Or Without Music?

without, but i always start with it on. it never lasts more then two songs.

(31) Dogs Or Cats?

dogs

(32) If You Were A Crayon What Colour Would You Be?

a shade of purple from the crayola 200 pack

(33) PlayStation Or Xbox.

wii

(34) Would You Swim In The Lake Or Ocean?

ocean

(35) Do You Believe In Magic?

hell mothering fucking year i do baby, lets take that train to hogwarts 

(36) What Colour Shirt Are You Wearing?

its a friends pj crop, so black and white stripped with the central perks logo

(37) Can You Curl Your Tongue?

yup

(38) Do You Save Money Or Spend It?

save money 

(39) Is There Anything Pink Within 10 Feet Of You?

my cup 

(40) Do You Have Any Obsessions Right Now?

stranger things ig

(41) Have You Ever Caught A Butterfly?

no, those assholes scare me, but i’ve grown + released them 

(42) Are You Easily Influenced By Other People?

um chile, i would follow my best friend off a cliff with no hesitation

(43) Do You Have Strange Dreams?

all the fucking time 

(44) Do You Like Going On Airplanes?

ITS MY FAVORITE FORM OF TRAVEL 

(45) Name One Movie That Made You Cry.

the hannah montana movie

(46) Peanuts Or Sunflower Seeds?

peanuts 

(47) If I Handed You A Concert Ticket Right Now, Who Would You Want The Performer To Be?

one direction 

(48) Are You A Picky Eater?

yes 

(49) Are You A Heavy Sleeper?

yes, but it takes me forever to fall asleep 

(50) Do You Fear Thunder / Lightning?

yea, depends on the day and the level of scardy bitch i feel like being 

(51) Do You Like To Read / Write?

i love both 

(52) Do You Like Your Music Loud?

hell yeah, let me feel the beat in my kidneys 

(53) Would You Rather Carve Pumpkins Or Wrap Presents?

carve pumpkins 

(54) Put Your Music On Shuffle, What Is The First Song That Came Up?

no tears left to cry by ag

(55) What Season Are You In Right Now? (Weather)

fall

(56) What Are You Craving Right Now?

a churro + peppermint mocha frap

(57) Post A Screenshot Of Your Tumblr Feed.

(58) What Is Your Gender?

female (she/her)

(59) Coffee Or Tea?

iced coffee / sweet tea

(60) Do You Have Any Homework Right Now? If So, What Is It About?

yeah, i have environmental homework and US I homework and Algebra II homework

(61) What Is Your Sexuality?

bruh, idk 

(62) Do You Make Your Bed In The Morning?

no, that shit’s never made 

(63) Favourite Pokemon?

jigglypuff 

(64) Favourite Social Media?

pintrest 

(65) What’s Your Opinion On Instagram Stories?

they’re okay

(66) Do You Get Homesick?

no. i don’t miss thins very easily, i’m away from home for a week and i have no doubt that i could spend the rest of my life without going back. 

(67) Are You A Virgin?

yes sir

(68) What Shampoo And Conditioner Are You Using Right Now?

idk, some really thick and heavy in hydration set 

(69) If You Were Far From Home And Needed To Sleep For The Night, Would You Choose To Rent A Crappy Motel Room For $60 Or Sleep In Your Car For Free?

sleep in my car, though both options scare me 

(70) Are Both Of Your Blood Parents Still In Your Life?

i have a strained relationship with my bio dad, but unfortunately i still have to associate myself with him a few times a year 

(71)  Whats The Next Movie You Want To See In Theaters?

black widow or spiderman 3, but i’m willing to see anything just take me back! 

(72) Do You Miss Your Ex?

i’ve never had an ex, but i do wish krystian would stop ignoring me. stupid scotland boys 

(73) What Is Your Favourite Quote Right Now?

“friends dont lie”

(74) What Eye Colour Do You Find Sexiest?

green / brown 

(75) Did You Like Swinging As A Child? Do You Still Get Excited When You See A Swing Set?

i loved swinging, but a few years ago it started making me dizzy so i don’t swing very often anymore. but tire swings especially are my shit 

(76) What Was The Last Thing You Ate?

chicken flavored ramen 

(77) What Games Do You Have On Your Phone?

yes 

(78) Would You Give A Homeless Person CPR If They Were Dying? Why Or Why Not?

yeah...because they’re dying and if i have the skills to save them...why wouldn’t i?

(79) Been On The Computer For 5 Hours Straight?

honey, i do full virtual high school. we stan a pandemic (we don’t)

(80) Stalked Someone On A Social Network?

social media stalker is my middle name. not anymore though, i haven’t been asked to find a boy in a while 

(81) Do You Like Meeting New People?

no. i hate it. anxiety city man. 

(82) Do You Wear Rings? If You Do, Take A Picture Of Them.

i don’t wear rings, but i really want to.

(83) Do You Sleep With Your Bedroom Door Open Or Closed?

closed

(84) What Are Three Things You Did Today?

woke up, watched stranger things, made ramen 

(85) What Do You Wear To Bed?

whatever i fall asleep in. 

(86) List All Of Your Different Beauty Products You Have Right Now.

are beauty and skincare the same? because i don’t own much makeup. 

(87) Are You A Day Or Night Person?

i used to be a night person. but this pandemic has hit hard with depression and i’ve become a stay in bed all day person

(88) List All Of Your Video Games On Your Phone, Console Etc.

2048 balls, among us, ball sort puzzle, bubble shooter, bubble sort, color roll 3D, drag n merge, fit and squeeze, hole.io, mario kart, match 3D, nonogram.com, paint the cube, roof rails, solitare, spit, stacky dash, stair run, timber run...

(89) Tell Me About A Dream That You Had And When It Happened.

After my moms fiance died, I had a dream that he was able to come see my fifth grade play (he died just before it happened) and when we were walking out he got into the white car from fast and furious (we watched the movies together) and said he would see me again soon, then he drove off...like talk about weird 

(90) Favourite Soda Drink?

rootbeer 

(91) What Sounds Are Your Favourite?

i like a good clicking sound 

(92) Do You Wear Jeans Or Sweats More?

sweats everyday all day 

(93) How Do You Look Right Now?

like a fucking wreck 

(94) Name Something That Relaxes You.

netflix 

(95) What Tattoo Do You Want?

i want a bunch of little symbols, and i think it would be cute if i got a T for my mom, but i can’t tell her that because she might think i’m going soft and exploit my show of affection (jfc why am i like this lmao)

(96) Favourite YouTuber?

colleen ballinger 

#soapy tag #pink tag #ask game

[elulallemant-d]

au: eliott surprises lucas by dyeing his hair black and lucas has forgotten how to function

you can leave fic requests if you want! i have a lot of free time and i’d like to write more elu uwu also feed back is very very appreciated

—

Knowing Lucas Lallemant, he was the type to cram all his due work until the last minute, unsurprisingly, gaining him no benefit what so ever. He partially wanted to blame it on Imane for not reminding him about the biology midterm he had the following day— she was his partner after all, but this was his own fault, really.

That’s how he found himself; uncomfortably hunched over his biology books, face dug into three different books, trying to inhale all the knowledge presented in front of him at once all whilst trying to answer a few questions on the side.

He vowed, initially, to ignore any type of disturbance, and, frankly, it worked for the first two hours. He successfully managed to ignore the constant flashing of his notifications even if he got dangerously close to unlocking it and scolding his friends for spamming him multiple times, tired of seeing ‘Le Gang grp chat’ pop up on his screen every so minute.

Lucas was immensely proud of himself for having so much self-control.

Except, all that self-control seemed to cease to exist once used srodulv made an appearance on his screen.

Lucas cursed at himself for giving in once he dropped pen, hands diving for the device in desperate need to contact Eliott.

srodulv

i’m like

5 minutes away, can’t wait to see u <3

‏ lucallemant

do you want to tell me where you went now? <3

srodulv

not yet !!

uh just letting you know

i’m not sure how you’ll react

‏ lucallemant

‏should i be concerned

‏if you killed someone i want no part of this

srodulv

): there goes my plans

‏ lucallemant

‏ .eliott

srodulv

ok ok

you’ll see don’t worry

almost there <333

‏ lucallemant

‏ alrighttt

‏ see u soon

‏ i love youuu

srodulv

love u too <3

so much

Lucas smiles to himself as he sets his phone down before shamelessly re-reading Eliotts replies a few more times. Even after a healthy, long amount of months, Lucas is always incredibly flustered around Eliott and his heart disconnects from his brain.

He tried to get back into studying, reading over pointless details on random parts of human anatomy, but none of the details fully processed. All he thought about was Eliott at that moment. They were supposed to have a quiet afternoon together, but Eliott clearly had other plans. It was also kind of frustrating when literally everyone around him knew about Eliotts plans; everyone except Lucas himself.

All Lucas knows is that Eliott has been talking about it to other people for the past few days since whenever he’d talk to anyone, they’d get an excited smile and tell him he ‘isn’t ready’.

At this point, he had no idea what was in store for him.

Eventually, he got back into the flow of studying, the thought of Eliott only lingering in the back of his head as he reads through a lengthy paragraph.

He hears the door click closed, cautious steps making their way to the open door.

“Here,” Lucas calls, telling himself he’d finish the remaining paragraph before officially forgetting about biology.

Lucas sees Eliotts figure by his table, instantly forgetting about bio and turning his head, only to be met with a pair of lips before he could spot anything.

“Hi,” Eliott whispers into the soft touch of Lucas’ lips, who’s eyes were still closed due to the proximity of their faces.

“Hey,” Lucas feels himself unwillingly smiling, resting his forehead against his boyfriends.

Once Lucas takes the time to recompose himself, he remembers what was happening. He jolts back, looking to the floor around Eliotts’ feet, trying to spot any objects he might’ve gotten.

“What did yo—“

Lucas was stopped abruptly once his eyes trail up Eliotts body, all the way to the top of his head.

Holy shit.

No, he wasn’t stressing his thoughts enough.

Holy fucking shit.

Eliott, his boyfriend, who was already unfairly attractive, had the audacity to dye his hair to a raven black shade and was sporting a nervous yet wide smile in addition.

Lucas didn’t know he could get more beautiful than he already is.

The darker shade against his pale skin make his features more noticeable, his dents and crevices sharpened more than they already were. The black colour brought out the best of his eyes and holy shit, their vast green-blue complex vividly stood out. He even noticed his eyebrows were a darker shade, matching and fitting the whole thing together.

Lucas didn’t know how long he stood there, gaping at the most beautiful man in the world— his boyfriend.

“So,” Eliott prompted nervously, carding his long fingers through the darkened strands, “do you like it?”

Lucas opened his mouth, but to no avail, nothing came out. He was still processing the sheer beauty of it all, thankful he was sitting down or else he would’ve literally fallen over.

Eliotts’ face falls to this, reading the situation completely wrong, “Oh, god, you probably hate it.” He withdraws, inching in on himself. “This was a bad idea, right? I probably look so stupid. I knew it was a mistake, shit, I didn’t think this through, I—“

“Fuck,” Lucas exhales quietly, his mouth still agape, lips parted slightly. He tentatively steps up from his chair, raising up to almost eye contact as he steps all up into Eliotts’ personal space, their noses almost touching. “You look so fucking amazing.”

Eliotts’ face lights up at that, the insecurity that was previously building up all broken down, “You think so?”

Luca doesn’t give himself time to reply. He hunches forward, colliding his lips with Eliotts’ for a full force kiss. He works their mouths against each other, hands roaming until they found themselves on the back of Eliotts’ head, running through the soft locks.

“Yeah,” Lucas nods into the kiss, breaking for a mere second to glance back at his hair, taking in the sight all at once, “how are you so beautiful in everything?”

To this, Eliott breaks the kiss in a fit of giggles, one hand resting firmly on Lucas’ hip while the other repeatedly runs through his hair. His smile practically radiated at this point, his eyes bright and his hair— his hair was black.

“It’s a serious question, why are you laughing,” Lucas dramatically gasps, stepping back to get a better view of the boy laughing in front of him, “I’m pretty sure it should be stated physically impossible for this to happen.”

“Stop,” Eliott whines, a tinted pink spilling over his cheeks, making him even more admirable.

Lucas raises both his hands, carding them both through Eliotts’ messy hair as he stares at the dark complex against his light skin. He repeatedly goes over it, eyes darting between his boyfriends radiating face and the mass of darkened hair tangled between his fingers.

He pulls back for a second, keeping one hand tangled in the mess and reaches for his phone. He snaps a quick photo of Eliotts’ reddened face and darker hair with his hand resting on top of the curls.

“You’re so beautiful,” Lucas resumes, peppering short kisses all over Eliotts’ face in-between his words while Eliott was fighting a larger smile, “hottest boyfriend in the world award goes to Eliott Demaury.”

“I think you’ve already won that title,” Eliott smirks, hugging Lucas closer to him.

Later that day, Le Gang grp chat got a series of continuous texts as well as a new instagram post from Lucas.

lucallemant

HOLY FUCK HAVE YOU GUYS SEEN ELIOTT

HE HAS

BLACK HAIR

I REPEAT:::::::::

BLACK FUCKING HAIR !!!!!!!!!

basile_simple

i think eliott broke him...

lucallemant:

lucallemant have you EVER seen someone so beautiful in your life???

#elu #axel auriant #eliott demaury #lucas lallemant #maxence danet fauvel #skam fr #skam france #eliott x lucas #elu fic #skam #elu fanfiction #one shot

[spine-buster]

Alone, Together | Chapter 5 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: Here we are, 4600 words later, because I don’t fucking know how to write succinctly.  Guest appearances by Auston Matthews and Frederik Andersen!

Morgan was hardly ever anxious.  He was usually cool, calm, and collected about most things, even on the ice.  Bad or missed calls by the referees,

He was officially nervous.  

It all started when Auston Matthews came over to his place.  Auston was in town for a few charity events he agreed to do, and on an off-day in-between, he went over to Morgan’s house to play video games and catch up.  Though they had spoken regularly, they had barely seen each other since the end of the season – just the occasional FaceTime.  It was good to be together again; good to be playing video games and shooting the shit.  

Then Auston got hungry and, well, everything went downhill.

“Dude, I’m starving,” Auston said, putting down his controller on the coffee table in front of him and springing up from his seat on the couch.  “You got anything in the fridge?”

“There’s some chips in the top right cupboard,” Morgan said, continuing to play the game.  He always had chips on hand.  It was his trademark.

“Any beers?”

“Uh…” Morgan honestly couldn’t remember, but at the same time, he was extremely close to getting his targeted kill count so he wasn’t exactly paying the most attention.  “I can’t remember.  Just fuckin’ check.  Go wild.”

Morgan heard the crinkle of the chip bag and the fridge open, Austin moving some stuff around.  “Um, excuse me,” Auston said.  “What the fuck is going on here?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Since when the fuck do you use Tupperware?” Auston questioned, turning to look at Morgan.  “You never use your Tupperware.”

“Matts, what the fuck?” Morgan digressed, pausing the game to look at his friend.  In Auston’s hand was the Tupperware Bee gave to Morgan for the leftovers of the fish tacos.  Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.  “I use Tupperware.”

“No you don’t,” Auston said, looking directly at him.  “You made me buy it with you, and now we both never use it.  Why are you…” his thoughts trailed off as he connected dots in his head.  His eyes bulged out of his head when he came to his realization, his mouth even dropping a bit.  “Bro.”

“What?”

“Who is she?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.  “What are you talking about?”

“Who’s the girl?”

“There’s no girl, Matts,” Morgan gulped.  

“Bullshit!” Auston yelled.  “You never use the Tupperware we bought, and now all of the sudden it’s being used in your fr…THIS ISN’T EVEN OUR TUPPERWARE!” he screamed even louder, feeling completely betrayed.  “Ours has red lids and this one is BLUE!  Is this her Tupperware?!  Oh my GOD!”

“Matts, calm the fuck down, for fuck sakes!”

“NO!  I can’t calm down!  Do you know what stage in a relationship you have to be to bring someone else’s Tupperware home with you?!”

“Seriously, Matts, you’re gonna have a hernia over Tupperware.”

“Stop deflecting!  Who is she?  What’s her name?  Why didn’t you tell me about her?!”

“Matts, please,” Morgan rolled his eyes, trying to brush him off.  

“Nah nah nah nah, I will shut this game off if I have to.  Either you tell me what the fuck is going on or I’m stealing your phone when you nap and finding it out for myself.”

Morgan looked Auston dead in the eye.  He knew Auston wasn’t bluffing.  Auston would go so far as to spike Morgan’s drink in order to get to the bottom of this is if he didn’t fess up.  “We met at a restaurant,” he practically mumbled.

Morgan couldn’t describe what Auston did next.  It was a sort of fist-pump into the air, but he was still holding on to the Tupperware container, so it looked like he was celebrating the Tupperware.  He practically threw it back into the fridge and slammed the door before running and plopping himself back onto the couch, forgetting the chips altogether.  Morgan rolled his eyes.  “You are honestly the fucking worst, Matts.”

“When am I gonna meet her?”

“Never if you keep this up,” Morgan answered quickly.  

Auston convinced Morgan to meet Briony.  Morgan prayed to every god imaginable that Auston wouldn’t embarrass him, or more important, embarrass Briony.  Later, when Morgan met up with Freddie, he begged Freddie to join them.  Freddie would provide some decorum at least.  It wouldn’t turn into a complete shit show.  

Freddie made a point in asking why, after only a month, Morgan didn’t put up more of a fight in denying Auston in meeting Briony.  Freddie understood how private Morgan was.  He understood how much Morgan liked his privacy, despite being a Toronto Maple Leaf.  He knew how much Morgan liked to be alone.  Everybody on the team commented on it.  Babcock commented on it.  The team doctors and physiotherapists commented on it.  Even the equipment guys commented on it.  And now Morgan had agreed to let Briony meet Auston, the most recognizable Leaf on the team…when he could have just said no?  

‘But I like her’ Morgan had answered.  ‘I mean, she’s going to have to meet everyone eventually, right?  Especially if this becomes serious.’

‘Usually people are honest and tell the other what they and their friends actually do for a living before getting a girl to meet them’ Freddie called him out.  Morgan couldn’t win because he knew Freddie was right.  But he made Freddie promise he wouldn’t say anything to Bee.  He agreed reluctantly, only because Morgan was a really good friend.

Were they moving too fast?  Morgan knew people who moved faster…much faster.  But were they?  It was a legitimate question.  It was just over a month since they had first met.  They’d slept together once after a few dates.  He hadn’t met Angie, Bee’s “person…you know, like in Grey’s Anatomy?  She’s my person” because she was currently in Kingston with her boyfriend Mason.  This would obviously be the first night she would be meeting any of Morgan’s friends.  He thought the pace was fine.

Okay, maybe he rationalized it because he really liked her.

Bee looked at herself in the mirror once again, the luxurious bathroom of the Four Seasons Hotel in Toronto providing good enough lightning that, for a second, she thought she looked half-decent.  She had on her work clothes – a pair of cropped, tailored pants, a flowy heart printed top, flats instead of her usual Tom’s shoes – and she couldn’t help but feel a little bit self-conscious about it all.  When Morgan said he had friends visiting in the city and they wanted to meet her, she readily agreed, thinking it would be something small at his place.  When he later told her they were meeting up at dbar at the Four Seasons Hotel in Yorkville…well, that’s when the nerves started to hit.  

She had agreed to meet Morgan and his friends at dbar, since they were all apparently coming from work and she was grading the last of the exams in the solitude of her apartment.  The fact that she was even going out during Labour Day Weekend was new for her.  She knew everybody in the city would be out tonight.  She didn’t like to go out on these types of nights.

Angie would always make fun of Bee for how much she liked being alone.  Bee guessed it was a quirk she had, something she developed while growing up.  When Bee was old enough to realize that her mother was an alcoholic, she would escape to her room (when she had her own room) and do anything to distract herself, sometimes even repeatedly doing her homework over and over again so she wouldn’t have to face her mother.  When she was old enough to leave the house, she would – she’d take a walk around the neighbourhood or sit aimlessly in the local park while her mom binged alone or with “friends”, preferring to be alone rather than witness her mother succumb to the alcohol.

It really solidified itself when she finally turned 16, when she won legal emancipation from her mother.  If she was going to do this – life – all on her own, then she needed to be focused, with no distractions.  And if she was going to make it, she needed to work hard.  And work hard was what she did.  Alone.  Nobody to support her, nobody to cheer her on, nobody to guide her.  She did it all by herself.  Alone.

Now Bee had to begin reconciling the fact that she also liked being with Morgan.  That she was willing to go out in order to be with him; that she was willing to go to places that made her slightly uncomfortable if it meant she could have fun with him.  It was a weird sensation, walking both sides of the feeling of wanting to be alone but wanting to be with someone else.  She didn’t know how to justify it – all she knew was that she would continue to.  

When she exited the washroom of the Four Seasons and walked around the building to wait in the lobby of the bar, she checked her phone again to see if Morgan had texted her.  He hadn’t.  She settled into the plush bench near the hostess, pretending to be on her phone.  She wasn’t going to dare approach her.  The hostess would probably laugh her out of the entire Yorkville area.

“Excuse me, are you Briony?”

Bee’s body stiffened as she looked up from her phone slowly.  She saw a man – a very ginger, very tall, very big man – staring down at her, a soft smile on his face.  He was dressed smartly: a pressed pair of slacks with desert boots, an unbuttoned collared shirt, a stylish sport jacket that fit impeccably.  He was completely colour co-ordinated.  Who was this man and how did he know her name?  “Uh…yes?” she squeaked out, still trying to take all of him in.

“I’m Frederik.  I’m one of Morgan’s friends.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, jolting up from her seat immediately.  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.  Morgan didn’t tell me your names or what you look like and I had no idea who I would have to look for and --”

“It’s okay,” he laughed, extending his hand for her to shake.  His hands were massive.  They were like mittens.  She was pretty sure they could wrap around her entire head.  She was also pretty sure he had a least a foot on her height wise.  Where the fuck did this guy come from?  “Morgan and Auston will be here soon.  Auston said they just gave Morgan’s car to the valet.”

“So Auston is the other guy’s name?” Bee clarified.  Frederik nodded his head.  “And you guys all work together, right?  That’s how you know each other.”

“Exactly.”

“How long have you worked in the sports industry?” Bee asked, trying to make small talk.

“The sports industry?” Frederik chuckled slightly.  “I’ve only been here since 2016.”  He nodded his head to motion for Bee to look behind her, and when she did, she saw Morgan making his way through the door, his typical slacks and button down t-shirt on.  She was starting to feel overdressed.  His companion, who she could only assume was ‘Auston’ walked in with a beanie and what could only be described as extremely-expensive-and-tailored-but-still track pants.  Track pants.  Bee felt like she was in the twilight zone.  Did Auston not know where he was going?  Were they going to be denied entry now?  

Morgan made a beeline to her, enveloping her in a hug.  Auston looked on with a bemused look on his face.  “So you’re Bee,” he said once she had turned towards him.  

He, too, had at least a foot of height on her.  She wondered if they planted themselves in manure every night to grow.  She’d heard that saying once and thought it was the most ridiculous thing ever, but seeing the sizes of Frederik and Auston – now she wasn’t so sure.  “I’m Bee,” she nodded her head.  “Frederik tells me your name is Auston.”

“So it is,” he smiled, shaking her hand.  “Morgan’s told me so much about you.”

Bee stiffened at the words.  “Good things, I hope.”

“He’s mentioned how good your fish tacos were once or twice,” Auston winked at Morgan, who looked like he was going to stab Auston right then and there.  “Good on you for getting this guy to go out, by the way.  Usually he just likes to be alone.  Have you ever been to dbar before?”

“No.”

“You’re in for a treat, Bee.  It’s one of the best bars in the city.”

As they made their way towards the hostess Bee earlier tried to ignore as much as possible, she watched as Morgan tried to discreetly elbow Auston and mouth to him ‘Behave’.  “Table for four please, under Auston Matthews.”

“Of course,” the woman smiled, clicking a few times on her computer screen.  “Welcome back to Toronto, Mr. Matthews,” she nodded, then turning her attention to Morgan and Frederik.  “Mr. Rielly.  Mr. Andersen.  Did you all have a good summer?”

Bee gulped.  What was going on?  How did she know who Auston was automatically?  How did she know Morgan?  Frederik?  Did they really come here that often?  Could they really afford to come here that often?  What the hell did she get herself into?

“The best, doll,” Auston smiled, the first to follow her into the restaurant.

They were seated much like she and Morgan were at Cibo – in a booth in a back corner where nobody could really see them unless they specifically walked that way through the restaurant.  Morgan sat on the same side as her in the booth, immediately grabbing her hand underneath the table and caressing it tenderly.  Frederik and Auston shuffled into the other side.  The waiter that attended to them asked if they all wanted their usual, which they all did, which made it awkward for Bee because she was still trying to get over how fucking expensive the cocktails were so she had to choose on a whim.  

“So Morgan tells me you’re getting your Master’s,” Frederik said in his soothing voice, and it was only then that Bee realized he had an accent.  “Where are you studying?”

“I’m at U of T.  I’m getting my Master’s in Financial Economics,” she explained.

“Where’d you meet Mo?” Auston piped up.  

She looked over at Morgan quickly.  “He sent a drink to my table in a restaurant.”

“He what?!”

“I did not!” Morgan denied emphatically.  “How many times…I did not send a drink to your table!  You got pranked!”

“You’re a lot smoother than I thought,” Auston commented.  “In all the years I’ve known you, you would have never done something like that.”  Auston turned his attention to Bee before adding, “He must’ve thought you were really cute.”

Bee couldn’t help but blush.  She thought the last word anybody would use to describe her would be cute.  “So how long have you known Morgan, then?”

“Well I’ve been in the Toronto sports industry since 2016,” he smiled, glancing over at Morgan quickly.  “Mo became one of my best buddies.  Showed me around the city, took me to all the good places to eat.  He totally became the dad of the group.”

“The group?  So there’s more of you?” Bee asked innocently.

“There is,” Auston nodded his head.  “You’ll meet us all in due time.”

Bee’s nerves quickly dissipated the more she got talking with Auston and Frederik.  She learned that Auston was originally from Arizona and that Frederik came all the way from Denmark.  Even Morgan relaxed the more everybody got talking, his stiffness making way for more relaxed body language.  They sat and talked for what seemed like hours.  The one time Bee looked down at her watch – 11:15pm – told her that they did talk for hours.

Bee was able to discern a few things about Auston and Frederik during her time with them.  Frederik was definitely more sophisticated (hello colour co-ordinated outfit), a lot calmer than Auston, and seemed to genuinely listen to what Bee was saying.  She appreciated his soft smile and the way he would roll his eyes at Auston.  Auston was definitely the playboy.  He seemed cocky, fun, and confident – definitely the guy you would want to show you a fun night out in Toronto – but still humble enough to know when to apologize, to say please and thank you, and to leave a very generous tip to the waiter after he picked up the exorbitant bill.  

As they made their way out of dbar, Morgan’s arm draped around her waist, she couldn’t help but notice the stares from other patrons.  She wondered if the same stares happened when they had made their way into dbar.  Stares made her self-conscious.  Stares made her feel like she wasn’t supposed to be there; that she didn’t belong in such a swanky, upscale, expensive place.  Stares like the ones she was seeing just made her want to be alone.  There was one part of her fighting to say she had the right to be there just like anyone else; but the other part of her just wanted to curl up into a ball.  

Right at the moment they were going to walk out, a man approached them with a giant smile on his face.  Judging by the way he was dressed, Bee assumed he was the manager or someone important to the bar.  “Matthews!  Rielly!  Andersen!  How are you guys?” he asked loudly.

“Hey Joe,” Auston smiled, shaking his hand politely.  “Good to see you, man.  It’s been a while.”

Joe moved on to Frederik and Morgan before focusing his attention back to Auston.  “You guys just heading out?  Was everything good?”

“Great as always,” Frederik offered politely.  

“It’s so good to see you guys again.  You make sure all the other guys know they’re welcome.  We’re gonna take good care of you guys this season.”

“You always do,” Morgan offered.

“Let’s get another one for the books,” Joe said, quickly taking his phone out of the pocket in his suit jacket and handing it to Bee.  “Do you mind?”

Bee was taken aback for a quick moment, looking at Auston – who was still smiling – at Fred – who was pursing his lips together, trying not to look at her – and at Morgan – who looked so anxious it was as if he would throw up on cue.  Why did he want a picture with them?  Why did he…why did he want a picture with them?  “Yeah, of course.”

They posed quickly and she took the picture, Joe the only person smiling from ear to ear.  Auston and Frederik were smiling politely but she didn’t think whatever was going on on Morgan’s face constituted as a smile.  She gave the phone back to the man quickly.  “D’you guys mind if I tag you?” he askd the boys.

“Go right ahead,” Auston said on behalf of the group.  “We’ll see you again sometime soon.”

Bee stayed silent as they waited for valet to bring Morgan’s car around.  Frederik was on his phone, typing away on the Uber app.  Bee kept looking at Morgan, who seemed to be avoiding eye contact.  She wanted to ask what that was about, but she didn’t want to ask in front of Auston and Frederik.  There were a million different thoughts running through her head, and she didn’t know which one to verbalize.  

“Am I…I mean, do you mind if I get a ride home?” she asked quietly.

Morgan looked at her as if she was crazy.  He squeezed her hand.  “Of course you’re getting a ride home.  God Bee, you’re something else.”

“I didn’t want to make an assumption.”

“I’d drive you to Vancouver right now if you asked me to,” he said quickly, and Bee knew he meant it.

“Mo-daddy, you gonna drive me home?” Auston chuckled, the over-priced alcohol clearly getting the better of him.

“No.  We’re going to take an Uber,” Fred answered for him.

“But Riles promised he’d drive me home!” Auston whined.

“Auston, we are taking an Uber,” Fred said definitively.  He looked at Morgan before looking at Bee.  “It was nice to meet you Briony.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Frederik,” she said politely, letting go of Morgan’s hand so she could hug him.  “Get home safe.”  She turned to Auston who had given up on his fight, though valet was pulling up with Morgan’s car.  “It was nice to meet you, Auston.”

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing a lot of you,” Auston said, his filter apparently gone as he hugged her.  “Mo will eat anything you put in front of him, including an entire ice cream tub if you let him.”

“MATTS!” Morgan yelled.

“See ya!” Auston waved sarcastically, running away to hide behind Frederik.  Bee climbed into the passenger’s seat of Morgan’s car, watching Auston and Frederik as he drive away.  

Bee was silent as Morgan began winding through the streets of Yorkville, eventually finding his way to Bloor Street.  It was the first time she had been in his car, and she noticed the Porsche logo on his steering wheel.  She took a deep breath in.  Okay, so maybe they all made good money.  Great money.  Maybe they made enough disposable income that they could go to places like dbar regularly and get to know the manager.  Maybe they all had really good jobs and were able to go out on the town a lot.  Maybe they could all expense it to a company account.  And if there was a group, like Auston said, maybe there were a lot of them.  All going out on the town.  All expensing their nights to a company account.  

But they why would that guy want a picture with them?

She was so deep in thought that she didn’t even notice Morgan had already arrived at her apartment.  Bloor Street at 11:30 at night wasn’t as busy as Bloor Street during the day, she thought.  

“Briony…” Morgan’s soft voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Why’d that guy want a picture with you guys?” she asked, her voice a whisper. 

Morgan gulped.  There were butterflies in his stomach, knowing that everything would change now.  The night had been perfect up until that point.  It was now or never.  “Because uh…we all play for the Toronto Maple Leafs.”

He looked over at her quickly and couldn’t discern the look on her face.  “Like the hockey team?” she asked, as if there was another professional team in Toronto called the Maple Leafs.

“Yeah…like the hockey team.”

Bee nodded her head slowly, looking away from him momentarily.  She mulled over the new information in her mind for a few moments.  “So you, Auston, and Frederik…are you guys, like…good?”

Morgan couldn’t help but chuckle slightly.  “Some people say so,” he answered her question as diplomatically as possible. So it was adamantly clear she had no clue about hockey.  She had no idea who Auston Matthews was.  No idea about “Steady Freddie”.  Did he tell her she just had drinks with the franchise centre?  A franchise centre who had girls practically fighting their way to get his attention?  “So you’re telling me you’re the only person in Toronto who doesn’t watch hockey?  Didn’t watch hockey growing up?” he tried to inject some humour, hoping it would diffuse the situation.  

“Watching hockey requires having owned a TV growing up,” she said curtly, reminding him of the poverty she grew up in.  

This was going to be a harder conversation than he imagined it would be.  He was an idiot for thinking this would go smoothly.  “Briony --”

“So when you told me you worked in sports, what you really meant is that you’re a professional athlete.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me that?” she asked, trying not to sound angry.  “I wouldn’t have minded.  Better finding out straight from you than from someone demanding a picture with you or an autograph or something.”

“You wouldn’t have minded?” Morgan repeated.

“No!” she exclaimed.  “Morgan, you’re still a person.  You’re a person before you’re a professional athlete,” she stressed.  “You’re…this whole time…this whole time…it’s almost been a month, Morgan.  How did you even hide it for so long?”

Morgan shrugged his shoulders.  “Luck, I guess.”

“The people at the restaurant where we met – they didn’t know who you were?” she asked.  He shook his head.  That one was actually luck.  “And Cibo – nobody knew there?”

“The guy who led us to our table, he knew.  He always handles, like, VIP bookings or people.”

“How did he know we were there?”

“When you were in the washroom, I told the hostess my name and she called him and he came right out.”

Bee huffed.  On one hand, she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  She didn’t watch hockey, and she wasn’t in tune with the names, the news, the games and the trades, but she still understood how much the Leafs meant to the city.  She still understood their power and influence.  On the other hand, she should have known better.  The clues were there – at this point, they were glaring at her, so obvious that she could only think how stupid she was to have not picked up on them.

“Talk to me, Briony.”

She looked at Morgan.  “I just wish you would have told me earlier.  I wouldn’t have cared.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do people like…usually care?”

Morgan nodded his head.  “Yeah, they do.  A lot.”

“So, what was it?  You didn’t want me to care?” she asked.

“No!” he exclaimed quickly.  “No no, that’s not it at all.  I just…God, I feel like I’m digging myself into a hole here,” he sighed, trying to find the right words.  “A lot of people recognize me.  Most, actually.  So when the drink thing happened at the restaurant and you were like ‘what do you do’ and I clued in that you had no idea I was Morgan Rielly it just felt…nice,” he tried to explain as coherently as possible.  “Like, you were talking to me because I was…I don’t know, a guy.  A guy reading the same book as you.  You weren’t talking to me because I was Toronto Maple Leaf Morgan Rielly, and it just felt nice to be seen like that.”

He watched as Bee furrowed her eyebrows the more he tried to explain himself.  “And you feel you’re not seen like that enough.  As just a guy,” she used his words.

“Yeah.  Exactly.”

“So what happens now?”

Morgan got scared by those words.  “What do you mean?”

“Well, the mystique of you being just a guy is over.  Now that I know who you are…what happens?  Does this stop?  Do you move on to another girl who doesn’t know you’re Morgan Rielly?”

“Absolutely fucking not,” he said immediately.  “I would never…no,” he stressed.  “It’s not about that Briony.  It was never about the mystique or trying to fool you or anything like that.  Whatever bad thought you might be thinking, it’s not…there’s no way I would do that to you.  To be honest, I don’t…I don’t know what happens next.  The ball is in your court.”

He was surprised to see a smile grow on her face.  “What a pun, Morgan.  Shouldn’t it be like ‘the puck is in your zone’ or something?” she giggled.

Morgan couldn’t help but laugh too, realizing his words were so stereotypical for an athlete to say.  It definitely diffused the situation.  “What I’m trying to say is are you...I don’t know, okay with me being a professional athlete?”

“I already told you I don’t care.”

Morgan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.  How did he find this girl?  Where did she come from?  “Then this doesn’t stop.  I definitely don’t want it to stop.  Do you?”

Bee shook her head.  “No.”

#morgan rielly #morgan rielly imagine #morgan rielly fic #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #alone together series

[kinnoth]

sex pollen, pt 1, 1st draft (gehrman/laurence) EXTREMELY NSFW

Q: After one of Laurence’s early experiments at college, he goes to Gehrman’s room and [fill in the blank] A: Begs

It is Laurence at his door that rouses him, Laurence draped in the darkness of the hallway and a moonless night, Laurence who says, “Help me, Gehrman, please,” as Gehrman feels his stomach drop.

 “Laurence,” he says, hurtling from his desk. His chair topples to the floor and the candle drops from his nerveless hands. The room goes pitch, but Gehrman cannot see, cannot think, cannot feel again until he has Laurence beneath his hands. Laurence is shaking and he smells of blood. His clothes are damp and Gehrman fears when Laurence falls against him, his blood goes cold and still when Laurence moans as if in pain.

“What’s happened? Laurence, where are you hurt?” he asks as his fingers fumble against his clothes, his buttons, pulling them back, baring his skin, searching for injury. Laurence’s breath plumes, hot against Gehrman’s neck, and he clings tight against him, whimpering. Gehrman tries to pry him back. “Laurence, tell me where you’re hurt,” he pleads, as his palms slide over skin that is slippery but whole.

Laurence shakes so badly Gehrman can hardly hold him. “Gehrman,” he says again in a voice that gasps. His fingers clutch into the cloth of Gehrman’s shirt and he hangs from him.

His heart in his throat; Laurence breathing raggedly into his collar. Gehrman tries to move him, but he’s heavy, pressed against him shoulder to knee. “Laurence, I can’t see, you have to–” but it’s only when Laurence groans again and this time presses into him that Gehrman realises it’s not injury that he smells on him but sex.

Gehrman pulls away, vertiginous comprehension rushing into his head. Laurence moans again, wetly, and stumbles, and Gehrman catches him on instinct, trying hopelessly to ignore the senseless strings of repetitious words, the low noises Laurence makes when Gehrman loops his arm around his middle to get him into the room. He extricates himself to find a light as Laurence, piteously, whines and tries to pull him back with him.

He fumbles with the match as Laurence groans. His knuckles creak on the back of Gehrman’s desk chair, holding himself up, and in the light, his face glows with perspiration, his colour high and his pupils are blown wide. A very fine sheen of animalism radiates from his skin, and, in the light, he squirms and tries to hide. Gehrman moves toward him again, bracing against the inevitable, careful that he does not touch.

“Who did this to you?” Gehrman asks at last. A species of nausea simmers at the bottom of his gut at how Laurence clutches for him, at his sharp, short noises. Murder, rising in the disquiet of his mind as it conjures an image of anonymous flesh, shadowy figures and their copulation. He shuts out all other thought, other speculation, all else which does not serve.

Laurence reaches for him again and Gehrman hasn’t the bravery to deny him twice. He holds himself still as Laurence presses himself against him, holds his breath against the stink, makes himself a stone against the conflict of rage and guilt that threatens him, undirected and unpacified though Laurence is with him here, now.

Gehrman feels his small noises more than he hears them. So softly, on the edge of coldness, he commands, “Laurence, give me a name.”

Breathless or on the very end of a breath, like shock, like pain, Laurence gasps, “It was an accident. The blood. My hypothalamus.” His insinuating fingers find the edges of Gehrman’s self-restraint and pries at them. Gehrman stops him, holds him, understands the dread that alliviates but not the shame that stays. Laurence writhes. “Hours,” he says. “I tried, I tried, I can’t. Help me.” He seizes Gehrman’s hand before he can react to it and thrusts it into his trousers.

Gehrman flinches. Instinctively, he tries to recoil, but Laurence’s grip is fast as iron as his hips roll recklessly into Gehrman’s touch. His prick is slick where it slips against Gehrman’s fist and Gehrman smells the oil on him, fine and mild as if something made of fruit. Laurence pushes in closer and Gehrman feels it on his thighs. “Please,” Laurence begs, folding his arm over Gehrman’s shoulders, his mouth at Gehrman’s ear, breath sticky and shallow and his every breath a moan.

“Please,” he says again as he holds him there and Gehrman is stronger than he is, faster, larger; Gehrman knows how to fight, but something more powerful than Laurence’s bony fists has seized his limbs as Laurence seals his mouth to his and touches his tongue with the taste of blood.

Black draws over him; his vision dims; his hearing narrows til only the pulse of his blood rushes through him and a feeling like contempt, like anger, like hatred, like he wants to rend a thing til it breaks. Laurence crashes into the far wall with a force that rattles the room. Gehrman doesn’t care; his hands have found Laurence’s gaping collar and they want skin. Seams tear like paper, the bone buttons keeping the rest of Laurence’s slanderous modesty in place scatter into the dark like birds.

He gasps, makes as if to speak, but Gehrman shoves a palm over his mouth, the side of his face, pushing until his neck bends into a long arch. “Please,” Laurence says against his fingers. “Gehrman please, please,” but Gehrman doesn’t know how to kiss anymore, doesn’t know how to soothe just closes his teeth over the pulse of Laurence’s throat and bites. Laurence cries out loud.

“Shut up,” Gehrman tells him, shoves the first three fingers of his hand into his mouth and stops his tongue. “Shut the fuck up if you know what’s good for you.” His fingertips hit the back of Laurence’s throat and he gags around him.

Laurence’s eyes: red, wet, unfocussed, shutter and search but never fully close. Gehrman can feel his tongue working, sliding into the cracks between his fingers, a soft thing, soft and warm and still pleading. Drool leaks from the corners of his lips and Gehrman pulls himself free as Laurence gasps again, mouth bruised, red, open, his own shaking hands clawing into Gehrman’s sleeve, the front of his collar. Please, he says again, but as Gehrman shifts his weight back, his knees buckle, and this time Gehrman doesn’t catch him. Laurence, shaking, shaking, his hands at Gehrman’s shoulders, slipping, slipping. “Please,” he says, level with his navel. “Please,” again lower down.

Flames crawling up his neck, tongues of it lashing his skin, Gehrman rights him, drags him up by the back of his collar. More tearing, more gasping, but Laurence is light: fine-boned, thin-shouldered, narrow-hipped under his clothes, a paper doll, and Gehrman levers him up to the tips of his toes with little effort. He tumbles when Gehrman slams him face first onto his bed. The force of his landing expels the air from his lungs, the bedframe shrieks across the floor and Laurence scrabbles, breathless and shaking, tries to turn himself, but Gehrman is on him, bearing him down, covering his body with the weight of his own, his left hand never leaving the back of his neck as his right searches and cleaves and parts its way past his belt, his flies, the mess of cloth between his legs as Laurence writhes and pants and tries to free himself from his own tangle. His struggle unclothes him; he is wearing no smallclothes.

“Please, let me,” he begins, but Gehrman pushes his face into a pillow. The skin of Laurence’s back is pale and smooth, hot to the touch when Gehrman drags his hand down over it, leaving streaks over him with his nails, a path to follow for his mouth, his teeth. Laurence has a taste to him like salt, like copper, like a bitter drink of agrimonia and something deeper, something ripe. Gehrman follows the scent of his arousal blindly like a hound on a trail, sucking bruises so blue that Laurence fights to twist away from him, even as his flesh trembles and gives wherever he goes. His fingers find his hole, fever hot, slick, loose, and Gehrman can suddenly see him smell him, taste him. His imagination clears: Laurence alone in his own room, on his stomach, fucking himself frantically on his own fingers until he was as he came to Gehrman’s door, shivering, needful, raw and slack.

Laurence gasps, pitched on the back end of a moan. Penetration does not sedate him as Gehrman had, in the dwindling mind that still conjured wisdom, hoped that it would. Laurence profuses his senses: his scent, his cries, his oiled hole stretching readily as Gehrman presses in another finger and then another. Laurence is soft. He clings. He yields. He could take the whole of Gehrman’s hand if Gehrman cared to try, but Gehrman has never known hunger before, not like this, deeper than flesh, than bone, the whole of his viscera on fire and rushing toward his cock.

He mounts him. With one hand, he grapples at his own flies until he frees himself and crowds into him, his cock resting dark and heavy against Laurence’s buttocks. Laurence keens and his back arches beneath Gehrman’s body. “Stop squealing,” Gehrman snarls and moves over Laurence’s body, seizing his hair and his flailing arm, pins it to his side, and it is no revelation at all, simply the mechanics of anatomy when Gehrman bears him down with all his weight and fits himself inside

“Fuck” Gehrman curses on a long exhale as he sinks into deep, slick heat. For a moment, relief steeps through him – a calm and clarity – and for a moment, he sees Laurence in the lamplight: the vivid welts and avenues Gehrman has marked into his skin, the straining prominence of his vertebrae, the way his shoulders shudder beneath the weight of his breath, and Gehrman can almost touch something like sapience, can almost germinate something like thought.

Then Laurence tenses and whimpers. His knees pull up on the sheets, a near imperceptible struggle, and the fire builds up, burning away the delicate bud of rationality; fire once fed burning up faster, higher than before.

Gehrman shoves with the full virtue of his body and Laurence nigh but screams.

There is a pounding in his ears, in his veins, as deafening as the beat of the ocean in tempest, of his hips beating into Laurence’s, bones grinding, flesh yielding, hunting for a flickering spark of pleasure in a foreign terrain.

Laurence’s voice stutters in time with his beating, his breathing shattered into irregular gasps, skin mottled and febrile. He says between his cries, shrill, panicked, “Gehrman, please–” his hands, bone-white and paper-thin, claw pale-knuckled into the sheets, searching for him. His fingers scrabble upon Gehrman’s knee, twist into his trousers and tug, and Gehrman in this moment cannot abide with any more of this: Laurence’s ridiculous demands, his incessant need. Always wanting, always asking, Laurence who will never be told no, barging into Gehrman’s room in the middle of the night, demanding his help, his care, his body – he dares to assert himself now, when he has it, when Gehrman has given him everything, he always gives him everything–

Gehrman snatches up his hand, snarls “Don’t you dare,” and bends it up behind his back. Laurence’s eyes go wide and he strains with a pleasing ineffectualness underneath him. “Don’t you even start with me,” Gehrman repeats and twists his arm up his back until Laurence gasps and gives. Laurence pants, the low keening of his voice still at last as he trembles, and Gehrman leans down over him, an imitation of tenderness as he snarls into his ear, “You’ll take it how I give it and you’ll like it, Laurence,” and he fucks him.

Laurence wails a long, sustained note. There is a creak from the corridor, a floorboard giving underfoot. Gehrman hears this, recognises this, turns his head as if to confront this, but he does not stop. Frenzy burns behind his eyes; he can not stop; he would sooner kill. He fucks him. Laurence cries out and Gehrman pushes his face into the mattress. “Shut up,” Gehrman hisses to him. He fucks him. Laurence whines. Gehrman snatches the pillow down from where it’s wedged up against the wall and shoves it down over Laurence’s head. He fucks him. “Shut up.” Laurence does not.

Gehrman pulls him up. He claps a hand around his jaw. “Laurence, I have warned you.” His cheeks are hot. His eyes half-closed and dark with water, his mouth slick and red. Gehrman would stuff his cock into it, stop his bleating, stop his interruptions, but that he can’t, the insistent draw of Laurence’s hole consumes him, clings to him, dissolves the thin boundary between his body and the beating heart of his pleasure; he could as readily extract his own liver.

The long, slim strap to his syllabus is coiled on his bedside table where he had discarded it earlier in the evening. Gehrman takes it in both fists and pulls it between Laurence’s teeth like a bit. Laurence gags, fights, tries to push it aside. Gehrman pulls the belt tight in its loop and yanks it hard enough that Laurence drops his hands to catch himself. He says evenly, “Or do you want it around your throat instead?”

Laurence whimpers but he shakes his head. He closes his eyes and there is something about the roll of them beneath their lids, the tuck of his arms beneath his body, and the dark stretch of his hissing mouth that pleases Gehrman, a warmth that might have been gentle in another life. Gehrman touches the back of Laurence’s hair. “There,” he says. “Isn’t that better?”

Laurence nods and hides his face and a sudden surge of altruism draws over Gehrman, powerful and close. Gehrman leans over him, puts his nose to Laurence’s temple and inhales. He puts his lips to Laurence’s cheek in a gesture more kiss than teeth and strokes his palms down over Laurence’s throat, over his shoulders and back, down over the length of his arms. “Give me your hands,” he says lowly and Laurence does. Gehrman thrusts shallowly, rocking small measures into his hole. Laurence sighs, his shoulders drop, and Gehrman loops his belt around Laurence’s wrists and knots him there, just below his scapulae.

Gehrman builds himself a hard and steady rhythm and Laurence lets him, acquiescent and obedient to Gehrman’s every instruction. When Gehrman fits hard fingers into his drooling mouth, Laurence laps at them and then gags beautifully when Gehrman pushes past his tongue. When Gehrman trails a wet path away from his mouth and down past his backside, Laurence spreads his legs out and gives him access. When Gehrman slips two fingers into his hole next to his cock and jacks them in and out, Laurence pushes back against him, taking him deeper, taking everything Gehrman has to give.

Gehrman moves him to his knees, and he leans his head back against him as Gehrman holds him up, one hand looped loose around his throat and the other searching down his torso, leaving light gooseflesh along his stomach and hip. He finds Laurence’s leaking cock and circles it loosely in his fingers, a cantilever to his thrusting. Laurence buckles and a spasm jolts through him, moaning wordlessly and shaking. His hole tightens around Gehrman’s cock, and Gehrman moans with him, letting him loose and letting him topple. His arse in the air, his back a long arch to where his face disappears into the sheets, Gehrman levers him up to spreads his legs and settles between them. He pumps his fist slowly over Laurence prick and buries his own cock deep as he goes tight and tighter around him. Gehrman squeezes his balls and Laurence bucks. “Good,” he commends. “Tighten up, Laurence. Make it good for me.”

Laurence quivers and cries but he is so good, so sweet when he does as he is told, pushing himself, rocking and building up to match Gehrman’s unrelenting pace. His hole clenches and slides as he fucks Gehrman’s fist, fucks himself onto Gehrman’s cock, bound up, leaking, good for one thing only like this, he should only ever be good for this one thing.

“Yes,” he tells him again. “That is better, isn’t it,” and Laurence, muffled, only moans quietly and nods his head to agree. His eyes are black and unfocussed. He strains beneath his bindings, but turns just a quarter turn and meets Gehrman’s gaze.

“Well then,” Gehrman says, beneath his breath. He releases Laurence’s bit and takes the leverage of the headboard. His efforts redouble and Laurence gasps and twists but there is nowhere for him to go: Gehrman has him double-bent, trapped between the geometry of his own need and the weight of Gehrman’s body. He makes a choking sound that Gehrman hardly registers, but then the softest, most bathysmal of sounds emerges from the depths of him. Something yields and then Gehrman’s thigh is wet, Laurence’s hole milking him like an eager mouth, and Gehrman feels his relief tremble through him as he goes limp, gone again, untouchable, ejected from their present circumstance.

A fresh madness rises into him as he seizes Laurence by his leg and drags him until he’s half turned. Laurence moans, his eyes still shut, his tongue pushing at the leather between his teeth. “Whore,” Gehrman snarls, and cracks him on the meat of his thigh. Laurence’s turgid flesh goes instantly flush again, and he sobs, delivered once to mercy but again drawn back into the fray. Gehrman scathes, gratified, his own relief at once a finite and insatiate: “Did I say I was finished with you?”

Bracing, bruising, Gehrman takes him by the hips and pummels him between his legs, thrusting, grinding. Laurence’s hands have come undone, though he doesn’t seem to realise. His front is slick, his heels swing. His voice, contained no longer by his gag, rises and falls like a song. Gehrman doesn’t care. Mania has its claws within him and it will not let him go. His satisfaction is elusive, like a deep itch below the skin, below the flesh, inside the nerve itself, unreachable despite his frenzied efforts at the surface. His sight narrows and his hearing fills with nothing but his own rushing blood. Laurence is a hole, no more, no mind no hurt not his friend not even a man only flesh, heat and a keening wail, consuming and surrounding, depthless and endless: void calling to void

Time has no meaning anymore; space collapsed. Gehrman cannot comprehend his body, cannot feel his own flesh. His sinew is marionetted to a will beyond his own, his prick pulses, aches, and all is black, black neverending.

Laurence comes again, somewhere in that darkness, and again after that, when Gehrman flips him over and pins him knee to shoulder on his back. He loses track after that, the chase overlong, the darkness overwhelms, and all Gehrman can do is his small work, fanning distant embers to catch their light.

“Gehrman,” says a voice, and it is coarse from ill-use and quiet, but Gehrman knows it enough that it bends his ear. He looks up and Laurence looks back at him – his friend, Laurence, pale-eyed and unafraid. Gehrman chokes, the cold fingers of sanity touching him through the fog, and he cannot bear it, he cannot bear this nightmare if Laurence –

“Gehrman,” Laurence says again. He takes the hand spread over the welted skin of his throat and places it, slowly, against his cheek. He kisses it once, on the heel of it. “Enough.”

And like daylight breaking upon a troubled night, Gehrman finds his light, and the rest finds its own way.

#bloodborne #first pass draft #gonna be some choose your own adventure shit when it's done #(choose your own tragedy) #mitigated???consent?? #it's almost like laurence has a pattern of behaviour where he keeps gehrman in the dark about everything he's doing #but nonetheless comes to gehrman when he gets over his head and has him clean up his messes #it's almost like gehrman is & has been real fucking frustrated with not being treated as an equal partner deserving of basic communications #IT'S ALMOST LIKE IF LAURENCE HAD JUST FUCKING TALKED TO SOMEBODY ONCE IN A WHILE WE WOULDN'T HAVE HAD A FUCKING BLOODPOCALYPSE NOW WOULD WE #co dependence is bad news kids (but plenty fun to write) #bloodborne meta #happy fuckin xmas to all 3 of you who follow this universe

[brydigdraws]

Goblin Week Day 1

Another year, another Goblin Week! Unfortunately, this particular week will be very busy for me so I’m unsure if I can actually do all seven days.

For now, though, please enjoy this short snippet about my goblins Rzekamien’s (originally made for D&D 5e) and Loc’s (originally made for a modified version of WH40K: Rogue Trader) first meeting (you can find out more about them by checking their respective tags on this blog). Please bear in mind that I’m not really a writer, and that this is a first draft and thus contains a few placeholder names and such.

It was an ordinary day as far as Rzekamien was concerned. The sun was shining through the trees, the birds sang their songs, and the wind was but a pleasant breeze. He liked it that way.

He sat in his cottage, writing in detail about the anatomy of the Etruscan shrew, referencing a skull sitting in front of him on the desk. He wasn't a published author or anything of the sort, nor did he wish to be. And even if he so wished, books written in Goblin weren't exactly in demand (not that he couldn't write in other languages - he was, in fact, quite the polyglot, but he held a certain fondness for his mother tongue). He simply wrote for himself, present and future. He also had a knack for illustration, at least given a reference. The sketches were scattered all throughout the book, complimenting texts about various plants, animals and fungi. This was volume twenty. He had opened a window to appreciate the ambient sounds it let in. For now, the forest was calm.

It was decidedly not an ordinary day for Loc. He was travelling through the galaxy at several times the speed of light, desperate to shake off his pursuers. He hadn't done anything wrong, really. Scavenging wasn't technically illegal, and how could he possibly have known that the wreckage of the huge ship that hadn't given off a single sign of activity for hundreds of years still, some-fucking-how, had survivors on it? Really aggressive, possessive survivors. With fully functional mini ships to chase his poor ass for way longer than was reasonable. He really wasn't the one in the wrong here.

Loc was quite a skilled pilot, but his ship could only go so fast, despite its small size. As he performed some impressive void acrobatics to stall for time, he also checked the radar for any planet that may be safe to land on.

Gas, gas, too cold, too hot...

After a while he came upon one with not only a survivable temperature, but also solid ground and breathable air.

Jackpot!

He headed straight for it, but just as he was about to enter the atmosphere, one of his pursuers finally managed to hit him with a projectile. As the error messages filled up the monitor, he did his best to regain control of the brakes to cushion the inevitable crash.

As though someone had snapped their fingers, the calm of the forest had come to an abrupt stop. Rzekk jumped at the sudden sound of branches breaking and trees falling not far from his home, quickly followed by a deafening boom. It was no longer an ordinary day.

After calming himself down a bit, Rzekk looked out the window to try to see what possibly could have caused so much noise and destruction. All he was met with was a tower of smoke beyond the trees - at least he didn't smell fire. He contemplated whether he should go and take a proper look; someone might have been seriously hurt, and he was a healer after all (not by choice, mind you, just came with the whole druid schtick). Then he remembered all the times curiosity had nearly killed him, and decided it was none of his business. It was probably just a powerful spell an incompetent spell caster had tried their hands at, or something of the sort. That was their own fault, and they'd have to deal with the consequences themselves - that's part of becoming competent. He went back to studying the skull.

Loc groaned. It was a rough landing, to say the least. But he did seem to still have all his limbs intact, thanks to his airbag suit. It looked absolutely ridiculous when inflated, but had played a big part in the drastic reduction of the amount of spaceship accident-related deaths in the last 20 years.

He pressed a small button to deflate the suit, and examined himself in the rear view mirror. Just some bruising, it seemed. ... Maybe internal bleeding? Oh, and definitely a headache. His bones seemed whole, at least.

He stepped outside on wobbly legs, and groaned anew when he saw that his ship now looked more like a pile of scrap than something he had spent 20.000 zilcons on. He put a caring hand against the hull.

"Don't worry, baby, Daddy's gonna fix you right up! Just stay put." And so he was on his wobbly way, hoping to find an engineering guild. Maybe a pharmacy, for some painkillers. When he was some hundred meters away, the engine exploded.

"Goddamnit."

Rzekamien was once again interrupted, this time by a loud knock on the door. Visitors were very rare this deep in the woods, so it did surprise him. But more than that, it annoyed him. He had been in the zone, and that knock knocked him right out of it. He was just about to ignore his visitor and get back to work, when they knocked again. And again. And again and again and his ears hurt. He sighed and went to open the door.

Before him stood a... goblin? He thought so, at least. They were about a head taller than himself, with blue-tinted, green skin, and big ears. However, he had never seen a goblin with such a nose before - it reminded him more of a bat's. And those clothes, they were made of materials he had never seen. The goblin's hair was as pink as lyre flowers - no dye he knew of was capable of such a rich, bright colour. ... Where the fuck did this person come from?

"Hey! I'm Loc, from star system LX-933-B. Nice to meet you!" The stranger stretched out a hand in greeting. Rzekk looked at the hand, then back to their face, then back to the hand. He really didn't want to touch it, but still did so reluctantly, for a lack of better alternatives. He retracted his hand immediately upon feeling the stickiness of the stranger's palm, and let out a small croak of disgust.

"Oh, sorry, forgot to retract the hairs. ... So, what's your name?" Rzekk didn't answer, he just looked at his unwelcome visitor suspiciously. He couldn't see behind their extremely dark-tinted goggles, which actually helped him sell the illusion that he was looking them in the eyes.

"Not much of a talker, eh? That's okay. Anyway, I just, uh, happened to crash here, so I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the nearest engineering guild? Oh, and do you have any pain killers? ... It wasn't a very pleasant landing, y'see." He laughed awkwardly. "Sorry, I'm asking for a lot here." (he really wasn't) "I could give you something for the trouble? Not sure what, though, I didn't have much on me to begin with, and I'm not sure how much is whole at this point." With every word, Rzekk grew more and more confused. He knew five languages, and had heard pretty much all others on the planet enough times that he could easily recognise them. But whatever this person was spewing? He didn't have a clue. Loc noticed the confusion in his eyes and came to a halt.

"Oh, don't tell me... Your planet's that backwards? You don't have translators? You know, those chips installed in your ears? You don't have those? Oh boy, have you even made contact with the rest of the outside universe yet? What about your technology? Do you even know what velcro is? What-" Loc got interrupted by a sudden coughing fit, which made Rzekamien jump backwards in surprise. It was so violent one could think his heart would jump out of his throat at any moment. When the coughing finally stopped, Loc noticed the blood on his hands, and felt it trickle down his chin. He wiped it off unceremoniously. Rzekamien just stared at him in disbelief.

"Ohh, shit. I'm worse off than I thought, huh? Hey, is it alright if I crash here? I'm not... I'm not feeling very well." And that's all he managed to say before he went limp and collapsed before Rzekamien's feet. After trying his best to process what had just played out in front of him, Rzekamien begrudgingly dragged his unconscious body inside (he was a healer, after all). Ordinary days as he knew them would never come again.

#goblinweek #goblin #goblins #Rzekamien #Loc #original #my writing #not art #if nothing else I think this showcases their personalities pretty well