#how the fuck am i supposed to sit through weekly releases

[mattved]

Kanban

Kanban is now well known in IT management of large corporations. Where did it come from? Who popularized it? And what is the best software to make IT work for you?

It has lately been a big hit in IT - both development and operations.

What is a Kanban?

First of all, do not call it kanban board - it comes from 看 "Watch over" 板 "board" - and you do not want to be the person who types their Personal Identification Number number in an Automatic Teller Machine machine.

In its native field of manufacturing, Kanban boards serve as a visual aid in materials release and workforce management. In a large blackboard-like layout, cards are arranged for the floor manager and those concerned with medium-term management get a clear information on production factor volumes held in each stage of manufacturing process.

Often color-coded by delivery date, contract, or intermediate products sub-step, the cards go into pockets arranged in columns. These represent stations, which may range in size - from a workbench to an assembly line to external facilities.

Additional ways to divide the board exist. One example is horizontal division into green, yellow, and red sections between load thresholds. There may be lines splitting to-do, in-progress, and done batches for purposes of floor logistics. Some companies bring in more than just that - sticky buttons, date indicators, even electronic components such as barcode scanners and RFID tags for data aggregation.

The specific use may also vary from station to station - assembly may be waiting for multiple specific cards in a row to begin work on a batch, stations using smaller parts may store them directly inside Kanban bin rack. Materials will organize their board in a weekly layout, foremen will use them for monthly rota, shift managers for even distribution throughout the day, sales may even need to work on quarterly basis to assign lead times.

With all this, the plant manager and their superiors could get all the information they need from a single view - either from the balcony, using an optional binocular, or from the less tangible but handy on-line dashboard.

Kanban in IT

How is this applicable in IT, though? With the field's importance growing, there was a need to rid it of its reputation throughout the corporate world. People had long seen it as the factor slowing them down.

"My company PC is slow, why can I not just use my own?"

"it is connecting to what?!"

"A week? Am supposed to just sit here and pick my nose?"

"Yeah, IT fucked up again, take out pen and paper."

There are many approaches, dusting off the good old manufacturing principles being one of them. In an almost religious way, a fairly recent IT management novel – The Phoenix Project – recounts them and highlights those that do apply to IT Operations with a sequel doing the same for software development.

Written in a tone of Eliyahu Moshe Goldratt's excellent piece on operations management -- The Goal -- it introduces a character of an "unconcerned" advisor. In this case, he is not as distant to the matter but appears on the main set, forcing the protagonist to observe their own company's manufacturing division.

And through these elementary observation, authors make it stand out. They explain how IT operations can structure tasks by type into infrastructure, user hardware, and software, by urgency, frequency, responsible teams, and finally steps. And that while being overly optimistic about Kanban.

The Phoenix Project Critique

Firstly, we've seen solutions to the matter in business IT ages ago in form of ticketing systems as well as project management suites. While the book is aware of both, they point at how difficult these are to follow. Company employees get access to them and slap them with overload of issues, tickets, feature requests, and cries for help. There always needs to be somebody to filter these, shielding their team from redundant or unnecessary workload. Ask for approval where it is needed, store the ticket in appropriate area, and finally assign the correct person to deal with them. And that is where it gets could get difficult.

Kanban is a pretty way to see who is busy with what and how much they can promise given the constraints. Showing this to the manager will shut them up for a while, maybe even make them understand how overloaded this business critical department is at any point.

The operations/project/product manager will also happily work with them - they can make tasks, break them down, split between teams, set deadlines and so on. Provided they have a 4K screen, there may even be enough space for them to see the whole thing.

For the developer, nowadays tied to their screen, it is not as great. With multiple columns showing up on the screen and limited width for some meaningful description of often difficult task, good 70% of the screen area becomes useless.

I may be happy to know that there are tasks coming once a prerequisite is complete but why waste an entire column with it where an expandable list with a counter would do? Upcoming tasks need work-hour estimates and have deadlines I need to track - both will do better in a simple orderable table. Backlog is not really a category for me, it's still a to-do. And completed tasks are great to check on to understand my impact but never helpful if they make my window horizontally scrollable.

The Ideal Kanban Software

Atlassian does have an okay environment in Jira but overloads it with a bit too many features I should be allowed to hide. Trello, Jira's sibling targeted at start-ups, takes the flashy stuff from her but only allows one task to be viewed at a time and does not really allow for the contingency we would love. Through the very open API, we can at least bring the relevant bits out but is it worth the time? And money?

Wekan does the same with an open-source license and a little better interface but still doesn't cut it for more complex operations with many details.

For a very similar yet more barebones solution, check out KanBoard. Being an open-source PHP project, it is very hackable on top of the great deal of ready-made plugins. It even allows toggling away from kanban view to a list-mode!

For a more user-friendly open-source, take a look at taiga.io. It also offers views on the tasks and allows filtering using all attributes. There is also a collapsed Kanban mode for top-level overview, native zoom, dynamic sectioning, sense of contingency and time-management features. And a half-assed git integration.

Step aside from kanban-first apps, Asana may come handy for teams more concerned with business operations. One can toggle Gantt view, visualize dependencies and write-up on tasks. Progress reports are more clear. Ironically, working in it gets time-consuming and it won't satisfy the technical needs of an IT department. It integrates well, sure, but is it worth the money?

For less support-oriented purposes, Notion is a great pick, bringing together task management with knowledge base, scheduling, and even   allows for some custom table-form based micro apps.

Finally, there is the recently fallen big brother to them all - Phabricator by Phacility. It was an end-to-end solution for product-oriented companies in ITs with a great potential outside IT. Unfortunately, it is now, for whatever the reason is, gone.

[jeagerism]

heaven (it’s calling my name)

✒ word count : 7.1k

✒ characters : eren yeager x reader

✒ explicit warnings : smut, like graphic shit i’ve never written, u give eren brain (a blowjob), yes ppl call giving head giving brain, eren repays the favor, i think he choke u a little at one point, consensual sex bc we fuck heavy with that, eren wraps it b4 he taps it, he’s respectful and hot

✒ warnings : modern!au bc canonverse eren makes me sad, eren is the definition of "cold boyfriend who’s only soft around you", except he’s kinda not ur boyfriend, oh god, he calls you teach a lot, and sweet thing and pretty thing he just thinks ur an object, im joking, he’s really bad at history, eren is a little shit, he majors in criminal justice bc one day levi mentioned he’d be good at it, and eren looks up to levi cry cry cry, oh yeah it’s a college!au too bc eren would...be in col….my heart hurts, im down bad for a yt man

✒ summary : Eren’s an annoying type of pretty. The type of pretty that hurts to ignore.

✒ notes : fuck u mechelle, even tho u wont see this

You’re quite sure that you’re five minutes away from leaving Eren Yeager to lie in the mess he’s made for himself.

Sliding your notebook away from you on the library table, you sigh through your nose, pulling your phone from your pocket to check the time. The giant numbers on your screen are a cruel reminder that you’ve been waiting for Eren for going on thirty minutes now, going between sending him warning texts to cursing Erwin out in the shared group chat between him, yourself, and Levi. The passing time only makes you more and more agitated, watching the water droplets drip down the stupid drink you’d brought for him when you’d arrived earlier. 

A part of you curses yourself for deciding to take up tutoring him in the first place. 

Which isn’t to say you had a problem with Eren Yeager, at least not always. You’d see him fairly often before starting these weekly sessions, given the fact the two of you ran in overlapping social circles. You see him at parties, and game nights, and even the soccer games Levi always asks you to show up to. Some part of him just made you want to pull your hair out, from the way he fought with Jean at every social gathering, to the way you'd been forced to sit next to him during every spring break trip since you'd started college.

He was always too loud, too jumpy, too much.

Nevermind the fact that he looked terribly attractive most days, or that he was always the one to get everyone home safe if they drank too much, or that he’d bugged Erwin for his soup recipe because Armin had gotten sick one week.

He also never showed up to his lectures, and would always ruthlessly bicker with Jean whenever they were in the same room. You don’t think he’s ever been on time to anything your friends have invited him to.

Or to the study sessions he’d gotten Erwin to beg you for, you think. Dropping your head forward against the uncomfortable wood of the table, you release a quiet groan.

"How am I supposed to help him when he doesn’t try in the first place?", you’d sighed to Erwin. "He barely shows up for his own classes—which, may I add, he wouldn’t need a tutor for if he did—so what makes you think he’s going to come to a tutoring session with me?"

Every part of you is aching from spending so long cramped into the material of your chair. Brushing your shoes against the bag by your foot, you begin shuffling the papers strewn across the table into a neat pile, gathering your different colored folders together. Papers you’d spent forever printing out for Eren, because he’d complained about getting so many things mixed up. Folders that Eren had teased you for relentlessly during your first few times together, something about "history being white and not orange".

Just as you’re standing to swing your backpack over your shoulder, hurried footsteps meet your ears, a hand slamming itself down atop the table in front of you.

"I’m here." 

Rolling your shoulders back, you give the boy in front of you an unimpressed look. He doesn’t look the least bit sorry that he’s missed the crucial time you’ve been giving up for him, pale grey eyes trained directly on the hand you’ve got on your bag. Your eyes drag down his figure, across the hair that’s gathered at the back of his neck, run down sneakers and withering brown hair ties circling his wrist.

Your words come out in a flurry, "I have been waiting for you for so long that I finished an entire essay, Eren. I had other things to do today, things that could’ve been done if—"

Eren cuts you off, plopping himself down in the seat adjacent from yours. He gets to work pulling out a notebook from his backpack, scrawled writing labeling it for history. The straps from his bag are tattered, some parts held together by mere threads. You never comment on this, because you know the only reason he has one at all is because Armin had bought it for him as a Christmas present awhile back. His hands, ivory and gaunt, flip the pages over until he’s seemingly satisfied with where it stops, and he glances back up at you, waiting and calm.

"C’mon, Teach," he drawls, nodding his head for you to retake your seat, "don’t got all day. You’ve got other things to do, remember."

Something about the way he talks to you makes you want to strangle him, and shut him up, and everything in between. He doesn’t make any other moves than that, lips set in a straight line, seemingly uninterested in whatever you’re going to say next, as if he knows you’re not going to leave.

This is your fifth studying session you’ve had with him, and he’d been late for the first, and the second, and now this one as well. You’re doing this for Erwin, you remind yourself, and also because the sooner you helped him pass, the sooner he’d be out of your hair. 

As frustratingly captivating as Eren was, he also annoyed you to no end, and you know there were plenty of others that would agree with you.

However, the idea of getting up and leaving him here puts an uneasy feeling in your stomach that you don’t like.

So, with a baited breath, you drop back down into your seat, ignoring the corner of Eren’s mouth lifting when you say, "I thought I told you not to call me that, stupid."

Ignoring your comment, the brunette scribbles a circle onto the edge of his paper, humming as he waits for you to push your folder over to him. You do, tapping your finger against the page to guide him. He begins working silently, flipping pages in between bouts of silence while you wait for when he’ll need you.

After a few minutes, he looks up from the folder halfway, head still bowed the tiniest bit. "Thanks," he utters, refocusing after nodding his head to himself. 

Your face feels warm when you look away.

The following few weeks after that are better.

Despite endless warnings, he still shows up late, but the time gets less and less with every tutoring session you have. He shows up with his things all organized, and he even brings you bottles of water instead of the abnormal amount of Kickstart he always had with him. You almost think it's his way of making up for the tardiness. You almost want to kiss him for it. That realization has you cutting one of your meetings short, letting Eren and his confused look make his way home without the normal amount of work you send him off with.

During another Saturday evening spent pouring over books, nestled into the corner of the couch in your shared apartment with Levi and Erwin, you watch Eren with a curious stare. He’s got a pencil twirling in between his fingers, rambling on about some part of his lecture that he didn’t understand earlier today. His legs are clad in the stupidly soft sweats he’d stolen from Erwin months ago, a price for carting him back home after he’d puked on the younger’s clothes. He’s buried in the old mathletes sweater he’d coveted for ages, and his long hair is tied up in his same overly messy bun, select strands tailing out every which way; curling around the nape of his neck, hanging in front of his eyes.

"Teach?"

"Hm?"

Eren waves his hand in front of you, skinny fingers passing in front of your vision once more before he lets them drop back down to hit his lap. "Zoning out on me again?" The candle burning on the corner of your entertainment stand casts flickering shadows across his face, silhouettes dancing across the bridge of his nose, the height of his cheek. "Terrible instructing method if you ask me." He gives you a boyish grin from his side of the couch. "Don’t know how we’ve made it this far with that."

You scoff, folding your arms across your chest. "I don’t know how anyone else puts up with you." 

"You do, don’t you," he calls, and he’s not smiling anymore, simply observing the squinted eyes you give him. The upward motion of his eyebrows draws his lips into a tiny pout. "What, not up for admitting your crush on me, yet?"

"Shut up," the slight shake in your voice must not be noticeable, and if it is he makes no note of it, chuckling and leaning his head back into the cushions of the couch. 

"Listen this time, yeah? Otherwise someone might think there’s not a thought inside that pretty head." He starts back on his babbling of topics he’d found difficult, tossing in little jabs at his professor, about how stupid Jean had looked when he’d passed him on his way back to your apartment. 

A part of you thinks it's to keep you on your toes. Another thinks it's just an effort to get you to smile.

And you do. Because his teasing words weren’t as far off than he may have thought.

Eren has a maddening habit of messing with you to distract from the work he’s supposed to do, prying embarrassment from the center of your soul in order to achieve breaks from the endless studying he needs to pass his final.

Said finals are tomorrow, which gave you plenty of reason to show up at his door hours before, arms full of material he’d need to remember if he’d intended to pass. He’d let you in with a heavy sigh, body pressed against the front door as you slid past him, eyes taking in the warm beige of the interior. Something you were sure Armin and Mikasa had managed alone, seeing as Eren’s entire color palette consisted of blacks and the occasional splash of white and blue. 

He leads you past the living room, where Jean is stuffing his phone into his pocket next to Mikasa, who’s slipping on her shoes. She gives you a nod as you slip off your own, and Jean does as well, before his eyes are snatched away by Eren’s hand, extended with his middle finger poised towards the boy, slight smile offered along with his crude gesture. He keeps it faced towards him all the way until the two of you disappear around the corner, concealed by the hallway walls. 

"You didn’t have to do that," you murmur, kissing your teeth with a shove of your shoulder into his. Eren shrugs, uncaring as he twists the doorknob of his room, pushing his door open for you to step into his room. The front door closes as you do, and you look back at him in question.

"They’re going to some bullshit soccer game." He’s gone to every bullshit soccer game this season.

Laughing, you plop down on the edge of his bed, laying the armful of study material down onto his bed; you jerk your head towards where his history textbook rests on his bedside table. Seeming to get the memo, he hefts it into his arms, scooting up to the headboard of his bed. He gestures for you to do the same, watching your form as you lean back into the wall, sorting things as you normally did for your meetings. "Well, when you pass, we can go to the next. If it’s not too bullshit for you."

He doesn’t respond, and when you look back up his eyes are already on you. 

"We could?" You nod, humming. "Like, you and me?" 

"Yes, Eren," you reassure, growing increasingly warm at the devoted attention he has on you. "Wouldn’t mind if you wouldn’t. Plus, imagine how many girls in your chemistry class would be jealous that Eren Yeager is going to the football game with someone that isn’t them."

A quiet noise of disbelief falls from his lips, "You play off as shy a lot for someone who makes jokes like that." Another mumble comes from his direction, muffled by the hand he passes over his mouth. 

"What?"

He bumps his knee into yours, shaking his head. "Nothing."

"Ah, yeah right," you protest, slapping his thigh with the orange folder grasped in your hand. "What’d you say?" Again, he shakes his head, moving his head to see in front of you. "Eren." You move in front of his line of sight, lips pouting at him. "Just—"

Reaching out with a frustrated sigh, Eren’s hand cups your jaw, stopping you in your place. His washed out eyes meet yours, unwavering as he keeps you in position. "I said," he voices, not even pausing to blink, "what if I don’t want to go with anyone else?" His thumb brushes the apple of your cheek, soft and slow, his face moving closer to yours bit by bit. "You’re pretty," he whispers. There’s so little space between the two of you that you’re sharing the same breath; the little wisps of hair gathered at the front of his face tickle your own, and his nose nudges yours when he speaks next.

"Not so forward now, hm?"

And it’s hot. The air, his hand where it rests against the underside of your jaw, the way his eyes bounce back and forth between your eyes before they lower again. It’s suffocating, and you’re sure that any longer here, with him, will only make the next few weeks even more complicated than being in his presence did in the first place. There’s a numerous number of reasons why letting Eren get this close is wrong, nearly fatal. 

Which is why you pull away. There’s a surprised glaze that passes through his eyes before he’s back to his normal, dead stare. Goosebumps rise on your skin.

"I should, uh, go? We can, like, study more later. At the library, or the campus coffee shop, just not..." Not here. Pushing your hair behind your ears with a deep exhale, you gather your jacket and bag into your hands from the corner of his bed. You eye the colored folders sprawled beside him, but they’re too close to him for you to even consider going back for them. You could always ask for him to bring them to you later. In public. Where it wouldn’t just be the two of you, alone.

Eren Yeager is collateral damage. You know this. He’s failing a couple classes, he never showed up for those classes, hell, he’d even ditched your first studying session without a word to you. You’re astoundingly aware of it all.

Your feet tingle where they meet the floor, and you’re about to stand when he calls out to you.

"Where are you going?"

"Home?" You turn your head to face him, eyebrows raised in question. He’s got one of those stupid pens in his hands, twirling it around with a disinterested gaze that almost made him seem bored of you.

"Who said you could go? You’re staying."

"Why?"

Whatever resolve you have to leave him here clings desperately to the forefront of your mind. He leans back, back meeting the wooden headboard of his obnoxiously comfortable bed, eyes barely open, yet you know for a fact he’s watching you anyways. And as he opens his mouth, lips tilted up at the corners like he knows something you don’t, you can feel that resolve slipping through your fingers like water.

"To help me out."

"Eren."

His head tilts to the side, gesturing for you to move forward. "Help with school, Teach." His voice sounds teasing, eyebrows raising. "That test is tomorrow, so unless you’re planning on teaching me on the way, you’re staying." Tapping his finger against the textbook now open across his thighs—when the hell had he done that?—he sighs at the squinty eyed look you’re giving him. "I can call Armin if you don’t want to." And then, quieter, he says, "And I won’t try and kiss you again."

I’m not sure if I want that, you think. What comes from your mouth is different, more practical, controlled. "Yeah?" 

"Scouts honor," he swears, shrugging his shoulders, finger still prodded into the pages of his book. The comforter is soft underneath your fingers when you sit back, scooting back up beside him. Once your back meets the headboard, orange folder in hand, you nod your head. After a few seconds of silence between you, other than the sounds of shuffling paper and humming, another quiet murmur comes from his way. "Not unless you want me to."

"Eren!"

"Chill, I’m ki—I’m just kidding!"

"This is bullshit."

It’s the fourth time Eren’s said that in the last thirty minutes, becoming increasingly more annoyed with the information presented to him with every minute that passes. You can’t blame him though. He’d worked silently beside you for another four hours after your almost kiss, other than the times he’d ask you about something he’d read or check to see if he’d gotten an answer right. And even your hands were cramping up from writing corrections on his fake tests, the words swimming on the paper.

"You're almost done," you comment, pen scratching against the paper with every letter you write, "here—you even got most of the questions right on this." You toss the stapled bunch of papers over to his side of the bed, the two of you having migrated to different spots during your endless working. The papers hit the bed just beside his knee. 

Eren eyes them with quiet disdain, but picks them up anyways, scanning the words for less than a second before he lets it fall back onto the mattress. Despite his attempted disinterest, you catch a glimpse of a small smile when he looks back down at the textbook in his hands. 

"Does that mean we can take a break?" He reaches up, hands clasping above his head to stretch. A soft groan escapes, eyes closing. He looks tired, you notice, strands of unkempt hair invading his face, mouth set in a tiny grimace. "I’m tired of reading about old people and the Mediterranean Society—"

"Mesopotamian," you correct, but he’s already sliding off of the bed, your words falling on deaf ears. He stretches again once he stands, his shirt rising to expose pale, silky looking skin. Checking the time on your phone, you hum in thought. "Fifteen minutes. Then we go back to working. If we work fast enough, we could be done in...an hour?" 

Nodding his head, Eren brings a hand to rub the back of his neck. "Be back in a second. Want anythin’?" His eyes pass over you while you shake your head, washed out grey feeling like needles on your skin. He passes through his door without another word, pulling it closed gently behind him.

Sighing, you lean your head against the wall, flexing your hands to work out the cramps. You’ve been writing for hours, either correcting Eren’s mistakes, writing out guides for what he needed more work on, or the piles of work you’d needed to work through on your own. You close your eyes, waiting for Eren’s return while still wringing your hands out.

"Falling asleep on me already, Teach?"

Said boy plops down on his bed, resuming his previous position. He’s got two bottles of water in his hand, one of which he holds out to you. He eyeballs the way you rub your hands after accepting it, still attempting to remove the kinks. 

"No, sorry, just ready to get this over with." Grabbing your pen from where it lays between the folder in your lap. "Ready to—what’re you—" Eren pulls the pen from your hand, tossing it to the table beside his bed, where it rattles before rolling and hitting the floor. "Hey," you whine, eyebrows furrowed at him.

He envelopes one of your hands in his, holding it stationary before slowly beginning to knead his fingers into the muscles in your hand. 

"You kept wincing every time you wrote something down earlier," he explains, not bothering to look up to see your reaction. You’re almost thankful for that, widened eyes trained on his face, then where his hands are holding yours. "And seeing as it's kind of my fault you’re doing all this anyway, figured I should do something to help." He continues massaging your hand, switching to the other not soon after. 

Still watching him, you tilt your head to the side in curiosity. "Why do you even take history anyways? You hate it. And you’re...not very good at it. No offense."

His gaze travels back up to yours at your words, seemingly unamused at your jab. "Shut up," he replies. Scooting even closer towards your spot against the wall, he huffs. "I forgot to sign up until the last day sign ups were going on. Accidentally checked off the class and now here I am." He shrugs, and stops massaging your hands. However, he doesn’t let them go, holding them in his hands, resting on your legs. "It’s a Gen Ed course, so I was gonna have to take it eventually anyways."

Eren’s eyes on yours make you realize that you’re just sitting here, too distracted by holding his hand and hearing him speak softly instead of finishing what you need to do now. 

"We should really go back to studying. Got alot more to do."

He raises an eyebrow. "Do we?"

"You’ve got a final in fifteen hours and we still have so much to go through." You suck in a breath, releasing it slow and steady, shoulders relaxing.

His grasp slides up from his hands to just below your elbow, hold light. "Hey, Teach?"

"Hm?"

"Can I try something else instead?"

Your heart jumps in your chest, and even though you know what he’s going to do, you nod your head anyways. Even though you’d been hesitant about it before, you want him to kiss you anyways.  

And I won’t try and kiss you again. Not unless you want me to.

"Yeah," you whisper, already leaning towards him. 

He pulls you in by his hold on your arm, a little too fast, chest knocking into his with a shallow breath. He kisses you with fervor, his lips fitting against your own. You move forward again, Eren’s head tilting back to accommodate the decrease of space. Rising onto your knees, you slide your way onto his lap. The crinkle of paper meets your ears, and you disconnect your lips as you look towards where the noise came from. Eren groans in annoyance, snatching the few stray papers and folders within his reach up, and tossing them over the side of his bed. He even shoves his history book to the floor, hitting the carpet with a loud thump. 

"There," he grits out, pressing a kiss to the edge of your mouth. "Now stop worrying about the stupid work and—"

"Can I suck you off?" 

The words have him freezing in his pot, lips still working around the middle of his sentence. Splotches of pink begin flooding his face, and he tucks his face into the crook of your neck with a muttered curse. "You can’t just say things like that, you know." The steady stream of air from his breathing makes you shiver, hands steady on his shoulders, fingers smoothing over the muscles of his shoulders underneath his shirt. His cheek is warm against your shoulder, and a small part of you revels in the glory of making him flustered. "Not after how much I," Eren breathes, lips skimming over the sensitive skin of your neck.

"How much you...?"

Slowly, Eren removes his face from its hiding spot, pulling back with baby pink cheeks. "How much I’ve wanted you before. How much I want you now." His fingers trace shapes into your sides, and for once you think you see something other than disinterest in his eyes. "Pretty hard not to notice someone like you, Teach."

Surging forwards, you connect your lips with his again, messy and all teeth and tongue. His mouth is warm against yours, nipping at your bottom lip for access, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You pull back, huffing at the way his lips chase yours. Sliding back off of his lap, you push your knees into the soft mattress, sitting pretty and quiet before him.

You’re pretty sure you’re way too far in to be embarrassed now, what with you asking to give him a blowjob a mere two minutes ago. But when he’s looking at you like this, watching you through lidded eyes, you’re still, the prickling feeling of self consciousness hot on the back of your neck.

"Getting all shy on me again?", Eren murmurs, eyes low and dark. The intensity of his gaze makes your stomach clench in anticipation. 

Breathing in to try to calm your trembling hands, your hands reach for the strings of his sweats, pulling them undone with bated breaths. You tug the fabric down enough to reach inside his boxers, pulling the length of his dick free. Hesitant, you wet your lips, eyes locked onto the path of veins that stretch to the underside of his cock.

"Hey", Eren breathes, sliding his hand along the underside of your jaw, soft as he tilts your head to face him. "We stop anytime you say so, yeah?"

You nod, humming despite the part of your brain telling you not to embarrass yourself. You brush your fingers over the pretty head of his length, excitement racing through you at the muffled groan he releases. A quiet hiss escapes Eren, hands twitching at his sides, fisted into the grey sheets. He’s hard when you take him into your hand, barely grasping it with your hand loosely wrapped around the base. 

"You can grip it tighter than that you know," he murmurs, head tilted to the side, cold eyes taking in every movement you make, "you’re not gonna hurt me, pretty thing."

Heat spreads from the back of your neck to your cheeks. "Okay, uh, yeah, I..." You readjust the hold you have on his cock, wide eyes jumping back up to meet his at the groan that rumbles from his throat. "I don’t wanna be bad at it." 

"Bad?", Eren exhales, watching as your hand begins stroking up and down the length of his dick, hips stuttering, pushing it even further into the warmth of your hand. Swallowing, his next words are choked out, "I don’t think you could be bad at this if you tried." He settles even further back, watching as your pretty hand works his cock up and down. 

You give a few more experimental pumps of your fist, drinking in every moan and twitch. Beads of pre cum drip down from the tip, following a  direct path down until they meet your fist, adding lubricant to the steady stroking of his cock. When you look back at him, eager to commit the moment—the moment you made Eren Yeager helpless—to memory, your heart jumps in your chest at the sight before you.

Eren’s eyes are still on you, just barely able to see from the lazy drooping of his eyes due to the pleasure. God, he’s stupidly fucking pretty. The type of pretty that makes you angry; but also the type of pretty that makes it easy to move forward, taking the head of his cock into your mouth. "Shit, you’re..." It takes almost everything in you to continue instead of getting lost at how good he looks like this—head tossed back against his headboard, small whines and breathless praises thrown into the air between you. "Oh, fuck, you can...yeah, like...like that. You’re so good." You swirl your tongue around the tip, taking as much of him as you can, jerking what you can’t fit in your mouth with your fist. 

"Hey, shit." The hand cupping your cheek guides you backwards, lips disconnecting from the head of his cock with a soft pop. A string of spit connects your lips to the tip, catching the light from his bedside table. "Pretty," Eren whispers, thumb swiping over the mess of spit and pre cum that covers your chin. He drags it across your bottom lip, gathering it and dipping the finger back into your mouth. Lips closing around it, you pause at his unblinking stare, before hesitantly swirling your tongue around his thumb like you’d done to his cock; another deep groan comes from the swell of his throat. "You’re killing me, Teach."

He leans forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his firm grasp on your chin keeping you pulled against him. He moves you backwards enough for your elbows to meet the mattress underneath you, back falling against it soon after. From above you, Eren looks ethereal, lips puffy, cheeks and the tips of his ears tinted pink. He abandons his hold on your chin for placing his hand beside your head, caging you in between both arms. "Wouldn’t mind seeing you like this more often."

Dipping back down to you, his nose bumps into yours as he reaches down, palm sliding across the expanse of your thigh, pulling it to rest against his hip. His fingers stroke the skin, soft hum reverberating from him. 

"You’re so soft."

Your head is mush at the feeling of his hands all over you, lips smoothing over every patch of skin they can find. His hand travels from its place on your thigh, fingers teasing the edge of your hip, trailing up and around your navel, and over the fabric covering your chest before he rests it against your throat. His fingers leave a pleasant weight at the base, just barely enough pressure to know they’re there. Eren’s hair falls in a curtain around him as he presses his mouth to your own, wanting and desperate. "Want me to touch you, pretty thing?" 

He gives your throat a final squeeze before abandoning it in favor of tracing his hand over the area where your thighs meet, teasing his fingers over the space between them. "Want me here?" 

"Please," a whimper accompanies the forward grind of your hips against his hand, something that has him chuckling. You’re too desperate to be embarrassed, eyes stinging with tears. "Please." 

Eren presses another opened mouth kiss to your lips, before trailing down, peppering kisses across your neck. He continues his journey down, pausing in between to mark soft spots of skin, temporary tattoos that resemble his desire, until he’s resting his cheek against your inner thigh. Glancing up, Eren’s lips lift upwards in the tiniest of smiles. The strands of hair framing his face tickle. "Still okay?"

Nodding, your chin brushes your chest when you meet his gaze. "Yeah, just," an exhale, "want more." A few beats pass, eyes darting back and forth between him and the grip he has on your thigh. "Please."

He huffs out a laugh. "Since you asked so nicely." Tapping against the side of your hip, Eren loops his fingers through the band of your shorts. "Up." At his command, you lift your hips from the bed, letting him tug the shorts and underwear down your legs, tossing them somewhere behind him. The first touch of his fingers against your core makes you cry out; he tugs your thighs open further, your cunt open to his fingers completely. His fingers dive between your folds, welcomed to the wetness gathered there. Another lewd whimper falls from your pouted lips.

"You’re so noisy," he scolds, thumb rubbing gentle circles on your clit, tutting when another stuttering moan comes from your mouth. The hand that’s not making a mess of you is clutching the skin of your thigh, keeping it pressed into his mattress. "Barely even done anythin’, and you’re this loud." His hand cups your dripping cunt, middle finger sliding between your folds with ease. "You sound so pretty though, don’t you?" Eyes fluttering shut, you drag your bottom lip between your teeth to quiet yourself, hips pushing themselves against his touch. "Ah, eyes open, sweetheart." Your thighs twitch ever slightly, hole clenching and sending a fresh wave of arousal to meet Eren’s fingers. 

"Can’t," you whine, voice cracking. His fingers slip even closer to your entrance, making you clench around nothing, desperate for something. Your head drops back even further as the brunette sinks two digits into your little hole, hips attempting to arch off the mattress. "E-Eren!" 

"You can’t," he repeats, working his fingers inside of you with a disapproving hum. "Baby’s gone stupid over my fingers already, hm?" A short cry is given as his answer, whining as his fingers slip out from inside of you, leaving your core empty once more. Another few seconds pass before something hot fans out against your swollen cunt. "Gonna let me make you cum, sweetheart?" 

You nod hurriedly, your hips canting into the air, only for them to be pushed back down. 

"Use your words, sweet thing. Not too fucked out that you can’t tell me what you want, are you?" Wet fingers scale your side, all the way up to your chest, where he cups your breast through the material of your shirt, swiping his thumb over the cup of your bra. "Wanna come, yeah?" 

"Y-Yes, Eren, please make me come, I—" Fisting the cotton material of his blanket, your head dips even further back into the mattress. 

Chuckling, Eren’s hold on you tightens, and he pulls you closer to him, nose brushing the inside of your thigh. "Don’t worry, pretty baby," he drawls, teeth nipping at the inside of your thighs, "I’ll make you come." Eren’s tongue flattens against your slit, pulling a long, drawn out whine from your throat. He’s got his forearms wrapped securely under your legs, mouth pressed perfectly against your core. His tongue traces circles against your clit, before sucking the bud into his mouth.

He’s cocky enough without you shouting his name like a prayer, but you can feel the rumble of his words as much as you hear them when he says, "Fucked so stupid all you can think of is me, huh?" His tongue dips below to lap at your juices before dragging up to tongue at your clit; you keen, chest heaving. You let go of your grip on the sheets, hand clumsily travelling towards where his is wrapped around your thigh. He flips his hand over, palm up to meet yours, fingers tangling together when you slide your hand into his. His touch is grounding, fingertips tingling where they press against his own. "Don’t think I’ll ever get enough of this; wanna do this every day. You’re so wet, so pretty, aren’t you? Just for me?"

"Yes," you choke out, tightening your hold on his hand, squeezing it harder and harder, "it’s all for you, Eren, o-only for you."

"Good," he calls, fingers joining his ruinous descent of your cunt, swiping through the wet mix of spit and cum, stroking up your slit. Eren tucks two fingers into your entrance, pausing once they’re knuckle deep, seated within the warm, wet walls of your cunt. "Gonna make you come, yeah?" He starts on your core with a newfound pace, fucking you with his fingers eagerly. His tongue dances over your clit, adding fuel to the loud squelching made every time his fingers sink back into your cunt.  

Your juices coat his fingers entirely, making it easy to slip them in and out of your tight hole. Your core feels full, stuffed with his fingers, entrance stretched by the scissoring motion of the slick digits. Lewd moans and whimpers fall left and right from your pretty mouth, mixed in with shouts of his name, begs for more. A wave of pleasure crashes through you, stomach clenching tight, your cunt clamping down on his fingers. "E-Ere—" The boy between your legs takes one last lick against your messy slit before you fall apart, body shaking underneath his hold. Legs attempting to close around his head, Eren pushes them back down, greedily lapping at the cum gushing out of your sweet cunt.

By the time your breathing has returned to normal, he’s pressing his lips against the inside of your thigh. Your hand is clutching his in a death grip still, to which you blink bearily at him, lower half still tingling from the aftereffects of your orgasm. Eren lifts himself from between your legs, trailing open mouthed kisses up the base of your stomach, pushing the material of your shirt up to make room as he goes. He stops just below your breasts, biting a final kiss there. "Still good?" 

Nodding shallowly, your hands tangle into his hair, pulling his face down to your level. His eyes stare through you, pale grey making your core clench around nothing once more. "Think you’re pretty, too," you murmur into the space between you. He pulls back with a short laugh, stretching his arm to pinch the hem of his shirt between his fingers. Quickly, he pulls the offending material up and over his head, throwing it to the other side of the bed. His eyes scan the bedside table to his right; it gives you a chance to ogle at the bare skin before you, contracting with each inhale and exhale. Reaching down, Eren opens the drawer, rifling through the contents before coming back with a square foil packet between his ring and middle finger. 

Bringing the packet to his mouth, his teeth rip into the side, dragging the excess away. He works the condom out of the packaging, letting the wrapper fall to the floor beside his bed. Rolling the condom over the head of his cock, Eren continues until it’s resting at the base.

"You would be the type of guy to have condoms in your bedside table."

Scoffing, he drags you closer by your ankles, slipping his hold up underneath your knees to slot himself between your legs. "I got them for you."

"Who said you would’ve ever gotten to use them?", you laugh.

Eren grips the base of his cock, sliding it through your folds. "Guess I don’t have to worry about that now, do I?" He looks as good as he always does, sweat beading on his forehead, eyes trained on the place where your bodies meet. Letting your slick coat his cock, he pushes his hips forwards, tip prodding at your entrance with a choked moan. The head of his dick sinks into your heat with ease, your last orgasm making your walls take him in with no problem. 

"Look at you, pretty thing," he growls out, "taking my cock so well." He doesn’t stop until his hips are flush against yours, pelvis brushing against your abused clit. Eren rolls his hips, his dick sliding from back from your hole, before being sucked back into your greedy cunt. Your nails dig into the bed, letting out stammered whines and pitched mewls as he fucks into you. His cock brushes your sweet spot, drawing a near pornographic moan from your mouth. "Such a perfect little cunt, taking me like I was made for you." He taps his finger against your clit, rubbing the swollen nub in fast, circular motions. 

"So...So good, Eren, I..." you cry out, mouth agape, legs beginning to tremble with pleasure. Your cunt leaks steady onto his cock, soaking his length with your juices. Clenching around him, your cheeks warm at the moan that Eren gives. His pace becomes rushed, pounding against the spot inside of you that makes you see stars over and over again. The delicious drag of his cock against your warm walls makes you crazy, body jerking with every sharp thrust into your pulsing cunt. The pitch of your cries is so loud Eren smushes his thumb against your lips. And without thought, you take his thumb into your mouth, velvet tongue encasing the digit.

A growl slips from his mouth, eyes rolling slightly at the sight. Each moan that you release vibrates against his thumb, serving towards his hips snapping against your pelvis harder, the sound of skin slapping skin reverberating throughout the room. "Come," he commands, cock setting a bruising pace against your slit. "Come around my cock, pretty thing."

His words have you keening around his thumb, your body going into overdrive at the sparks of pleasure that shoot through your entire body. Eren continues his short thrusts into your cunt, panting before he goes still, a pleasant, unfamiliar warmth invading your walls. He goes still over you, releasing one final, drawn out choked groan. After a moment, he removes his thumb from where it's resting against your tongue, his cock slipping out from your wet hole, and collapses beside you with a short exhale. Eren wraps an arm around the front of your waist, laying it there for a second, still, before pulling you into his side. You rest your cheek against his chest, body still buzzing. 

Once your breathing returns to normal, feeling returning in your legs, you wet your lips with a laugh. "We never finished reading the rest of the material, you know."

Eren’s chest shakes underneath your head, cheek vibrating with the deep rumble. "Fuck Mesopotamia, Teach." He walks his fingers down your arm, all the way down until he’s lacing his fingers with yours. "But we could always do some more studying."

You hum, even though your eyes are practically already closed, body feeling heavy and warm. You’re leaning into him more, nearly half asleep when another rumble pulsates against your cheek.

"Sure I’d remember anything if your study methods are jumping me." 

You’re walking back home from your final class days later when your phone buzzes in your hand. Unlocking it, your eyes zero in on the notification on the screen. It’s from Eren, and your lips tilt up gently into a smile. 

He passed his final with an eighty-nine. 

#eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger #eren jeager #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager imagine #eren yeager #eren yeager smut #eren jeager smut #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk x reader #[eren] #d.fic

[writingsbychlo]

upholding traditions | dave hodgman

word count; 19,396

summary; a year later, dave finding himself in need of his christmas party saviour again, and is missing his girlfriend, thinking she won’t make it home for the holidays.

notes; honestly, this switches between his POV and hers a lot just to get the full story across, so just roll with it. click here to check out their new years outfits, I had very particular images in mind.

warnings; underage drinking, smut, semi-public sex

“Oh, Dave, isn’t that just the loveliest little garden?” He could only nod, biting down on the inside of his cheek, hard, to contain the yawn that he wanted to release. On one side was his mother, and on the other side was his ex, her shoulder pressed up to his as the perfume he once thought smelt alluring and sexy now just gave him a headache and made his nose wrinkle was overwhelming, her phone held out in front of the two of them, as she swept through photos of her new home. “You know, Dave, if you had a nice little house like that, you could host some lovely little event. Are you planning to host any, Aubrey?”

He gave her his best smile, knowing how fake it all must seem, and when she finally pulled her arm back and placed her phone away, her body leaving his side, he felt like he could breathe again, no longer sandwiched between the two women. The problem was simple; his mother had joined his neighbourhood book club, as had Aubrey’s mother, and over the year, as the group cycled between various members houses for meetings, his mother had become much more social and friendly. Aubrey had transferred home for college, after Ronnie and his piss-poor band had landed a series of songs to be made for cat-food commercials that he considered his ‘big break’.

Slapping an engagement ring on the pushy blonde’s finger and deciding the two of them would move in, Dave had come home from college, exhausted and ready to crash, to find his mother had befriended his ex, and everything since that day only one week ago had been a steady de-escalation in his run down to Christmas.

After the raging success that last year’s set of Christmas parties had been, and the formation of the neighbourhood book club - who seemed to have now self-elected themselves as the community event organisers - he once again found himself standing in an itchy festive jumper on Christmas Eve, a glass of punch in his hand as he tried to wrap his head around the fact that if his mother and his ex-girlfriend got any friendlier, she might actually start being invited to family gatherings and thanksgivings.

With her ‘big news’, in the form of an engagement and a small house in her hometown as she decided she was never going to break free, apparently, Dave found himself with a whole new set of problems. He was being badgered by everyone he knew about when he was going to settle down, when he was going to find himself a nice girl, when was it going to be his turn to get a house or start making roots, and what his direction was?

The worst of it all? You weren’t here to save him this time.

Three weeks before Christmas, and you’d broken the news to him over your weekly video chat date. You weren’t making it home for Christmas this year, your junior college year workload had all become too much and you were staying behind over your break to finish it all up. You’d been vague, not many details and so he didn’t have much to talk about when the older ladies of the neighbourhood asked him where you were, meaning they were all fixing him with disapproving stares and offering to set him up with their granddaughters or nieces.

Glancing around the room, he longed to catch sight of you, your sweet smile, enough to light up a room, but he already knew he wouldn't find you. The last time he had seen you in person had been the summer, when he’d flown all the way to your university campus as a surprise, spending the entire last week of summer with you, and flying back for his first day there, falling asleep in his first lecture of second year, and yet he hadn't regretted a moment of it. Going to college at the opposite end of the country to your girlfriend was hard, more so when your schedules never aligned and workloads began to pile on, but he struggled not getting to see you for so long.

Swallowing thickly, Dave gave up on all decorum and falseness of polite wishes, not missing the side-eye his mother gave him as he slumped out of the conversation, not having a single fuck to give about the names of paint samples Aubrey had been trying on the walls, but instead dipping down to sit in the chair closest to himself. The night was pushing on, and he had no doubt that the dinner would be being served soon, and he placed his chin onto his hand, elbow balanced on the tabletop as he propped up his head and tried to stay awake.

“Dave, you’re being rude!”

He flinched as his mother pinched at his shoulder, and he swatted her away, glaring up at her as he scowled at him, and Aubrey chuckled a little, a sound that grated his nerves when he was already wearing so thin on tolerance for any kind of festivities right now. “Girl talk, am I right?”

“Sure, Aubrey.”

“I think there’s something else bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?” His mother cooed a little, patting her shoulder, before seeming to find someone else to talk to, wandering away across the room and starting up another conversation, leaving him alone with the woman, and she sipped at the drink in her hands as she stared at him. “Is it because you’re here alone?”

Narrowing his eyes on her, he huffed, and she shrugged slightly.

“It’s okay to be alone, Dave.”

“I’m not alone.” His words were growled out a little bit, and she only seemed to fix him with an even more pitying look, shaking her head slightly, grown-out bangs falling into her face from the slicked-back style she’d put them in, and she tucked them away, the smile on her face now unobscured, and he couldn't quite decipher whether it was condescending or just overly concerned. “I’m not. My girlfriend just couldn't make it for Christmas this year.”

“Couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?”

He deadpanned, straightening up a little bit to look at her more clearly, and she fixed him with an innocent look. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing!” She took another sip of her drink, clearly not done with her statement, before her shoulders were slumping as she waved her hand, trying to brush it off. “Sometimes it can just be a bad sign, y’know? When one person in a relationship starts to give up, and the other person starts having to carry all the weight. It never works out.”

“Oh, you mean like how it ended up with us?”

“That’s not fair.” She mumbled, at least having the dignity to look a little offended and guilty. “I was young, I was all over the place with my emotions. I didn’t know what kind of baggage I had then. I thought you were right for me, but it didn’t work out. I’m just saying, anybody who can’t make time for you at Christmas might not be worth it. C’mon, Dave, it’s the holidays. What else could she be doing?”

He gaped a little, not quite sure how to reply, a prickle of doubt racing through his veins as he thought about her words, a feeling he knew was inappropriate because he trusted you implicitly and knew you’d never lie to him, and he was certain that the flame was burning strong still, but now she’d planted that seed of anxiety, and it was growing rapidly.

“She should be here. It’s the most wonderful time of the year, after all.”

His lips flicked up at the edges, a smile mirrored on her face as she finally cracked through his shell, and he knew she wasn’t all that bad, she just had no filter and ofter was a little too crass for her own good, but Aubrey wasn’t a terrible person, he just didn’t like her all that much. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he patted himself down for it, lifting it to his face, and feeling the entirety of his body perk up as your name flashed access the screen with a new unread message.

A simple text, asking what he was up to, and Aubrey chuckled as she realised it must have been you, but he was barely even in the room anymore, mentally he was in a bubble with you, now. Lifting his phone up to take a picture of the event before him, his eyes swept across everyone in the shot, just once, before he was pausing, and looking again. Lifting down the device, he stared out at the crowds with an uninterrupted gaze, checking that what he was wasn’t just a red-clad illusion on his phone screen.

No, he was right.

There you were, hands still tucked inside the pockets of your coat, scarf around your neck, and you waved at him, phone in your hand still open to the texts on the screen, and he shot up in his chair as he stared at you, jaw hanging open and a disbelieving look on his face. Turning off your phone and tucking it back into your pocket, you unwrapped your scarf from around your neck, hanging it up on the overly crowded coat racks, and turning away from him as you watched your boyfriend get up from the table to shoulder through the crowds towards you.

Slipping your coat down your arms and hanging that up, you shook your hair free of the windblown positions that it had been blown into, turning back to sweep your eyes over the hoards of people. You barely had a chance, before hands were finding your heels, pulling you forwards until you were sharing space with the man, breath shared, a shaky sigh released from him, before the gap was closed.

His mouth slanted across yours, warm and wet and eager, lips moving softly as he tries to tempt you to kiss him back, and you pressed back just as happily. Your hands sat on his sides, feeling him shake a little under your touch as you did, trembling at the connection as you finally saw each other again for the first time since the middle of the year, and he barely pulled back for breath, before he was kissing you deeply once again.

His fingertips were digging into the edge of your jaw, falling way lower and lower, until one was resting gently on your neck your pulse thrumming under his hand, as the other smoothed along your arm, dipping under to sit low enough to reach your waist. Giggling a little against his mouth as his fingertips tickled along your sides, he whined at the break in your exchanges, leaning in to press a series of shortened kisses to your lips until you were resting back from him, far enough for you to crack your eyes open and really take him in.

“Hi, Davie.”

“Really? ‘Hi, Davie.’ That’s all you have to say?” He repeated you, brows shooting up but a playful smile finding his lips as he pinched at your side enough to tickle you, a quiet yelp on your lips as you jerked, fixing him with a mock-glare that scarcely lasted longer than a second, before your arms were coming up to loop around his neck, allowing him to pull you in close again. “You have some explaining to do, ma’am.”

“Couldn’t leave you alone on Christmas, could I?” He smiled, bumping the tip of his nose with your own, and your heart raced in his chest as you found yourself wrapped up in him once again, the feeling being sorely missed. Running your fingers through his hair gently, scratching at the shorter hairs at the base of his neck, he let out a familiar little rumble of complete contentment as you did. “I wanted to surprise you. I didn’t know until about a week ago, but I realised that if I pulled some all-nighters and grabbed a last-minute plane ticket, I could be here to see you.”

One of his hands rubbed along yours lightly, sealing around your wrist to bring your hand around close enough for him to press a kiss to your palm, before letting it fall back to his shoulder. “When do you stay until?”

“Right through to the New Year, baby.” His face lit up, a smile that still managed to make butterflies raise up in waves within you, despite a year having passed in your relationship now. “I cleared my schedule for you. You’re going to be getting a whole lot of me real soon.”

“I should hope so.” He whispered, before pulling you back in, puckering his lips to tell you what he wanted, and letting you be the one to close the gap this time. It was softer, and calmer, and much more loving. The first kiss; needy and frantic and simply a reassurance that you were there and not a figment of his imagination had slipped away, and was replaced within the both of you as something that was much more about passion and comfort.

It hurt you, to see so little of him, to know that he missed you just as much as you missed him, every time you had to cancel a date, or fell asleep too soon in differing timezones, or staggered conversations that took the whole day to have via texts, all becoming irrelevant as you found one another again.

His tongue teased along your lower lip, prodding slowly, and you grinned, feeling his own lips curve up against yours in response, but you only made him wait a moment, before you were parting them and allowing him access to lick into your mouth. Beat shared, noses bumping together as mouths slid together and connected with deep and loving exchanges, head twisting to the side as you tried to push yourself up even further into him.

His hands slipped a little lower, the both of you seeming to forget the world around you for a moment as your front pressed to his, hearts beating together in unison and thudding against one another’s chests. For a moment, it was a space in which only the two of you existed, nobody else mattering, before the tranquillity was shattered.

“(Y/N)!”

A loud squealing, high-pitched, drawn-out and overexcited. A voice he knew well and Dave pulled away with a startled shock, eyes going wide and cheeks flushing red in a way that was mirrored to your own as embarrassment flushed your system, in time to find sights on the younger girl in the glittery dress dashing towards you. You dropped down to take a knee just in time, before you were almost being knocked over, her arms wrapping around your neck and her face pressing into your neck as she all but screamed happily into your ears.

Standing back up with the little girl in your arms, her legs found a place either side of your body, sitting on your hip as she held on tightly, and you turned to face her older brother, an adoring look you recognised well was flashing on his features. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Stella! We can have so much fun now that I’m back, though!”

“I got new toys!” She was still shouting, making Dave wince a little beside you, and you were sure your eardrum was ringing, but her apology as your boyfriend chastised her for her volume was enough to make your heart melt. “Can I tell you about them?”

“Why don’t you tell me over dinner? I’m a bit of a surprise to everyone, so I think I’ll be sitting at your table again.”

“Well, that seems fitting,” Dave mumbled, grinning at you when you rolled your eyes at him, and yet you still found yourself leaning into him when his hand found your lower back, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and scoffing at the dramatic whining and groaning Stella let out at the simple affections. “It’ll be just like last year.”

“I am a sucker for tradition.” You joked, his eyes glinting slightly, and before either of you could say anything else, attention was being called by the tap of a microphone on stage, announcing to you all that it was time to take your seats. Letting Stella back down to the ground, she was bolting away with the intention of leading the way from the very second her toes hit the floor, and Dave was soon after catching your hand with his, squeezing tightly.

He let you lead the way, pulling him along slowly, and his mum gasped loudly as he approached the table behind you, a beam taking over your face at the excitement that the older woman displayed. She was over to you both in a flash, arms held wide before they were wrapping around you and pulling you into her embrace, your hand shaking away from Dave’s so that you could hold her back just as tightly.

You giggled, your eyes meeting his for a second as his mother squeezed you tightly, rocking you from side to side, before she was finally letting you go. She had released you, just long enough to pinch at one of your cheeks lightly, the other arm sitting on your shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze.

“Your mother said you couldn’t make it! We weren’t expecting you, darling. It is lovely to see you, though!”

“Well, I came back as a surprise, she had no idea until she got a call to pick me up from the airport this morning.” His mother’s face cracked out in a smile as she laughed with you, and you felt his fingers inching along your arm, smoothing over your palm before weaving with your own once again, lacing together, and you wrapped your own back in comfort and security to assure him.

“It’s a good thing you did, too! Dave has been moping about all week since finding out you couldn’t make it.” You grinned, turning to look at your boyfriend as his cheeks flared up with red, swallowing thickly and glaring at his mother.

“Mom!”

“What? It’s true, and you know it! You’ve been moody and sulking, pouting all around the house.” He only flushed further, and you leaned in, muffling your laughter by pressing your face into his shoulder, and feeling him sag a little underneath you, giving in, stomping his foot like a child as he whined.

“Mom, stop it!”

“I think it’s cute.” You finally managed to contain your giggles, wrapping your spare arm around his waist, his other hand coming up to rest on your arm and he huffed out as he gave up on the argument, no longer fighting the truth about it all. He had been moody and grouchy, not excited to see in the new year alone, but now you were here with him, and his whole world was lighting up once again. “I missed you, too.”

“You two are just the sweetest.” Your eyes widened, almost having forgotten that his mother was there, and he chuckled down at you, smirking a little now that you were just as embarrassed as he was. “Do you want us to shuffle all the chairs up? We can drag another seat over, I’m sure we could make it work.”

“Thanks, Mrs Hodgman, but that’s okay. I already promised Stella that I’d sit with her this year again, and I never break my promises.”

She only chucked, nodding her head, before you were leaning up to press a kiss to Dave’s cheek, grinning to yourself at the warmth of his skin as he flushed with shyness once again. “Okay, my dear, I’ll go and have a word with the kitchen and see if we can’t rustle up an extra plate for you.”

She walked past you both, wobbling a little on tall heels as her wine raced through her systems, and your boyfriend shook his head as he watched his mother go. He was tugging on your arm, and you looked up at him, following his footsteps over to the kitchen, and Stella was waiting patiently, her hands pressed down into two seats on either side of her own body, preserving them both as other kids began to fill in around the table, denying them the chairs each time, a toothy grin with a missing tooth flashing up as you both arrived.

“Scoot, Stell.” Dave tapped at the back of the left end chair as you took the right, and her head snapped up to him, chocolate brown curls the same shade as her older brother’s bouncing as she did.

“No!”

“What do you mean ‘no’?” He looked utterly shocked, crushing down to her height, and she shrugged her shoulders, shaking her head at him.

“I want to sit in the middle! She’s my friend, too!” The younger girl insisted, and you couldn't hide your amusement as Dave gaped, eyes flickering up to you for support, before narrowing playfully when he realised he didn’t have it.

“Yeah, Dave. Stella’s my friend, too.”

He growled a little, the action more directed at you, a heatless warning, and his hand ruffled in his sister’s hair as he stood up, begrudgingly taking the other seat. He shuffled closer, until the edge of his chair was pressed up against hers, and his hand was reaching out to rest along the back of your chair, playing lightly with the strands of hair that he could reach, while your attention was turned to his sister. She was a whole year older, but just as adorable, and was already beginning to tell you all about her experience so far in second grade.

Her plate was placed down in front of her, and she paid no mind to it, the other children around the table receiving third as well, but she was far more focused on telling you all about the other kids that she’d met. You took charge, cutting up her food for you as you began to add into her stories, telling her all about your own experience in second grade.

“Y’know, Stell, I met your brother when I was in second grade.”

Her jaw dropped, turning to look back at Dave, who only nodded his head in confirmation, but seeming a little strained as he tried to remember that far back. “Really?”

“Really! He had just moved here, and you weren’t even born yet.” You poked at her sides, tickling her a little, and she broke out in a fit of childlike giggles, squirming slightly, pushing at your hands as she did. “He had two front teeth missing, and a buzzcut.”

Dave groaned behind the little girl, seeming to be patching it together now, a wicked glint on your face as you thought about even more details of the story. He ran a hand through his hair, the strands having been growing out over college, more than the short length that they had been when you’d reconnected with him last year, the strands sticking up a little over his head, messy and untamed, only making it worse the more he messed with it.

“He was in a superhero phase, and he came in wearing a different costume every day of the week.”

He let out a loud groan, but there was a smile hidden behind it, and you finished chopping up her food for her, placing the knife and fork down on the edges and pushing it back over to her, little hand picking up the shorter set of cutlery. The chair your boyfriend was sitting in scraped over the floor as he pushed away from the table, beginning to stand up and leaning over to press a kiss to his sister’s head as he passed her by, before coming to a stop before you.

The adult dishes were beginning to be bought out now that the kids all had their own, and he tipped his head in the direction of the bar, making you realise that neither of you had a drink. You’d been so caught up in the whirlwind excitement of surprising your boyfriend with your return that you’d completely neglected the scratching dryness in your throat, or the rumble in your stomach, lighting up a little bit at the thought.

You nodded your head, tipping your head into his hand when it came to rest over your cheek, leaning down enough to brush his lips against your own. It was barely a kiss, before a little hand was slamming down on the table beside you both, making you jump. “Gross!”

You couldn't help the laugh that you let out, head snapping back down to look at Stella as she glared at you both, your cheeks aching from the grin you held. “You don’t like kisses, Stell?”

“No!”

“Not even if I gave you some little kisses?” You leaned over, scoping her up and into your lap so that you could kiss the crown of her head, holding her to you tightly as you peppered the side of her face with little affections, her face growing red as she laughed and wriggled in your arms, barely an effort to escape at all as she cracked up. Just when she thought she’d made it and you let her go Dave caught her on the other side, pressing a kiss to his sister’s cheek, grinning wickedly as he walked away, and you watched her rub aggressively at both of her cheeks as she tried to wipe them clean.

When she deemed the task finished, she set off on her eating, pointedly moving across a seat to get away from you, dragging her plate over to the chair Dave had once sat in, sticking her tongue out at you as she went, and you only beamed, before she was diving into conversation with the other children.

A waiter leaned over, placing two larger plates down, one for you and one for your boyfriend, a smirk on his face as he glanced around the table, before looking to you, and you shrugged, knowing how amusing it was that for now the second year in a row, you were sitting at the kid’s table, despite being in your second year of college, and they walked away with a chuckle.

Moments later, Dave was filling the chair once again, placing a glass down in front of you and raising his brows in silent question of approval as he did. A bubbling gin and tonic, a bottle of beer for him, and you lifted it up, taking a sniff of the contents inside, before taking a testing sip. A concoction of fruity flavours exploded within your mouth, a delicious mix, nodding your approval to him, and he grinned around the neck of his beer as he took a swig himself.

His gaze lingered on you, remaining while you ate, beginning your food, only ever leaving you for a few moments as he ate himself, or answered a question for his sister or one of the other kids, looking away momentarily to chop food or find his drink. It wasn’t an uncomfortable stare, and each time you caught his eyes throughout your conversation and the meal, you felt nothing but utterly loved and cherished.

So, in the pause between your dinner and your dessert, you turned to him, shifting in your seat enough to tangle your feet with his under the table, and his smile seemed to brighten even further.

“Are you trying to burn the image of me into your head, or something?”

“What do you mean?” He moved a little himself, facing you more, one hand smoothing over the tablecloth to find your hand, lacing your fingers together. You waited, and you could tell that he knew exactly what you meant, before shrugging a little, and finally tearing his eyes from you to look around the room. “I hate that we’re always so far from each other, and that this is the first time I’ve seen you in months because college got so busy. I love you, and I’m happy with how we’re doing, but it just..”

“Sucks?”

“Yeah.” He sighed, squeezing your hand back when you squeezed his first, and he watched as people came and went, your attention turning to the mingling folks around you too, and yet you were still entirely wrapped up in one another. “I’m patient, and I’m happy to wait, but sometimes I just feel like we’re being left behind. I mean, my mom and all the neighbours keep going on about the future. They’re all bugging me about when I’m going to move out, start growing up. Simon and Big-C have their own place, Jane just got married, even Aubrey is engaged and moving in with Ronnie.”

He was talking himself breathless, and despite the slightly angry tone to his voice, you knew how to read him, being able to tell that it was more stress than it was frustration, and you placed a hand over his cheek, thumb rubbing over the skin gently to soothe him. Placing his hand over your own, and holding it there.

“Everybody just keeps acting like I have no plans, and that my life isn’t going anywhere, but when your future is half-way across the country for fifty percent of the year, it makes it harder to know where you’re going and what to do.”

His words made your heart flutter, and you choked back the cooing that you wanted to make, pulling him in closer to press your lips to his in a sweet kiss.

It was chaste, and delicate, and you sighed out happily against his mouth as the hand closed over your own simply tightened, lips melding in slow patterns that had your heart beating out of your chest, exploding with emotions, finally being with the man you loved once again. Dragging your hand from under his, you pushed it further around into his hair, nails scratching at his scalp, a happy sound making itself known from the back of his throat, a rumble in his chest as he tipped his head further into your hold, and you let out a breath giggle as your lips broke apart, finding him relaxing more and more into your touch with each little scrape, knowing just how to comfort him after all this time.

“Don’t worry, Dave.” He only hummed, eyes fluttering shut as a content look washed over his features, head hanging back, now longer only supported by your hand to hold it up, and his body was sagging into the chair, like the actions you were taking had been a reset button for his entire body, stress clearing away. “You’re my future too. We will have plans, when we’re ready, we don’t have to rush for anyone. It’s me and you, and we can take out time.”

“Me and you?” He repeated, words a little slurred, and he jumped at the shock of a plate clanging down, the waitress apologising as the spoon clicked on the edge of the dish, before pudding a dessert down before you as well, and he forced himself to sit back up, to crack his eyes open and let your hand slip away to take your spoon. “You promise that?”

“Of course, I do. I love you.”

He nodded his head, pecking the tip of your nose as he shook himself off slightly to try and bring some life back to his body, and pulling your chair up and under the table properly.”I love you, too.”

“Good, because that tiramisu looks really good, so I’m kinda’ hoping you’ll share.”

He grinned, eyes flicking over the dish you had yourself, considering it all, before nodding his head. “Okay, but only because your pie looks good too, so we’re splitting them both.”

“Deal.”

Poking your spoon into the dish, you dragged it towards you a little, a disbelieving scoff on his lips as he caught his spoon against the other side, stopping you from taking it any further, and stabbing the cutlery into it hard enough to chime against the counter, before taking a large mouthful of it and bringing it up to eat.

You cringed through a laugh as he chewed loudly and unattractively, his spoon battling yours each time you tried to take a bite of the dessert. “Dave!”

“Hey, I said you could have some, but you have to earn it!”

“That’s how you want to play this?” He nodded, taking another bite of his, and you took the chance, dragging your spoon into it and pulling off a piece of the creamy treat, and he was quick to use his own to scrape it back into the dish. “That's no fair!”

“All’s fair in love and war, sweetheart.”

He picked up the dropped chunk, watching as you pouted, eating it with a wide smile, and half of his tiramisu was already gone, and you gave a dramatic sigh. Instead, you pouted, deciding that if he wanted to play dirty then you would too, and you twisted away from him to face your own sweet, dragging a piece of the apple pie away from the pain crust, and lifting it up to your mouth.

He chuckled beside you, more than amused with his own antics, and you ignored him, letting out a little huff, and not responding to him when he cooed a little, and you tried some more of your pie, staring down into the dish as you pretended to be upset. “Oh, c’mon, baby. I’m only messing around with you. Here, you can have some now.”

He pushed the bowl closer to you, and you looked up at him again, pretending to study him for a moment, and he lifted up his spoon, holding it out to you with a large piece of tiramisu, the Italian delicacy calling out to you. Just as you leaned in to take it, he swerved it around, closing the mouthful between his one lips, and laughing around it as your jaw dropped in shock.

“I won’t fall for your fake sadness, I know when you’re really mad. Good try, though.”

You growled a little, biting at the inside of your cheek to contain your smile, before raising a brow, and dropping your act to deadpan at him. “Fine. War is war, don’t blame me when you regret it.”

“Sounds like a threat?”

“It is.”

It was just the two of you at the table now, the kids long since having finished their ice creams, sticky dishes and spoons left littered around the table as they’d all run off to play, and it was just the two of you left, the low lighting in the corner of the room, a smirk spread over your features as an idea came to mind.

Your hand landed on his thigh, leaning over to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw, feeling him shake a little under your hold as he laughed, bringing up the hand that was resting on the back of your chair to weave into your hair instead. His head twisted, lips brushing your ears, and hot breath washing over your neck as he curled back around you.

“Squeezing my thigh and kissing my jaw won’t work, I’m not the same shy kid I was when you first started using that trick.”

You only hummed, nipping a little at his earlobe, before lifting one leg to rest right over the top of one of his own, the blockade of your leg meaning you had enough space to slide your hand up higher. His breathing did hitch then, as your fingers pressed lightly to the crotch of his jeans, and you settled your head onto his shoulder. To anyone who may look over, it was simply a couple cuddling in the corner, young adults who’d missed each other enough to put aside the general rules of PDA for one night, and it would be okay.

Instead, you licked lightly at the base of his neck, a spot you knew made him weak, and your suspicions were confirmed when he trembled under your touch. “Who’s not playing fair now, huh?”

“It was you who made it a war, Dave.” He dropped his spoon, a loud clanging, and he was choking back a moan as you rubbed your palm down against his cock, feeling him twitch under your touch as he did, even through the layers of material. His hand came down, snatching at your wrist, and cursing under his breath as your actions refused to cease, barely suppressing a moan as he began to grow under your hand.

“Fucking hell, you’re evil.” He whispered, and you nipped lightly at that same spot again, hearing him whimper as you did, hips bucking up into your hand, fingers gripping your wrist even tighter as he tried to push you away, yet never trying to hurt you. “I give up, I give up. Fuck, if I cum in my pants at a Christmas party, you’re never driving my car again.”

“You surrender?”

Squeezing the bulge in his pants, you lifted your head, his eyes rolling back in his head as he bit down on his lower lip, turning his face towards yours and pressing your foreheads together to hide the expression on his face. “I surrender. Dessert is all yours.”

“That’s all you had to say.”

He wheezed out a relieved breath as you finally took your hand away, panting slightly as he came down, having been halfway to creaming himself at the age of twenty like some kind of horny freshman, and he looked mildly irritated when he finally managed to pull himself together. “That was low.”

You only grinned, taking his spoon and enjoying the final bite of his tiramisu, watching as his thumb came up to wipe the powdery dust it had been sprinkled with from the edge of your mouth, but a frown was still sitting on his features. “Hey, you’re the one who wouldn’t share. Besides, it wasn’t so low back in May when you stuck your hand up my skirt while we were playing pool at the bar, huh?”

His eyes flashed over for a second, remembering the moment clearly. He’d been losing, the two of you having snuck into one of the bars on campus and gotten a little tipsy, and after boasting just how good he was at the game, to be losing to you in his hazy state, and as you’d leaned over the table, he’d stood behind you, fingers pinching your clit roughly through your panties and making you fall forwards onto the table, a cry on your lips as you lost the game. It had led to some pretty amazing sex when you’d made it back to his flat, though.

“Besides, I’ll make it up to you.”

“You better.” He mumbled, watching you switch between dishes once his was empty, his jaw hanging open as he waited for you to serve him up a piece of the apple pie. His hand came down to rest on your thigh, holding you close to him as the two of you happily shared out the foods, before falling into comfortable silence.

It was whispers about anything and everything you could think of, nothing too deep, simply making passing comments about what you’d been up to, small talk that would usually come along via your video call dates. His sister had come and gone, crawling up into your lap to sit with you for a while, more than happy to fill the silence as you asked her about what she and the other kids were up to, before she was running away again to chat with her friends.

The conversation went on, chatter about college, updates on all the extra work you’d been doing that had prevented either of you from being able to make any trips in the last few months, straining the long-distance relationship that you were already sharing. First-year had breezed by, being easy enough that since last Christmas, the two of you had made plenty of time to visit one another, meeting up halfway between or making the full trip for the weekend, but second-year had come down hard, and had been kicking your asses.

You moved yourself, his arm settling behind your chair so that your head could fall to his shoulder, one arm slung over his waist, and tiredness began to creep in. You could suppress it for a while at first, holding in your yawns, and being able to follow the stories he was spinning for you, updating you on everything that his friends - both college and at home - had been up to, soft laughs on your lips with each adventurous tale he shared.

Eventually, though, he had caught on, going quiet as he let you fall into a half daze, the hand behind your body moving to stroke over your shoulder, comforting and warm as he just held you there.

“You falling asleep on me, sweetheart?”

“No, no. I’m totally awake. I’m here to spend time with you.” Your words were a little mumbled from sleep.

“Yeah, sure you are.” He teased, jousting you on his shoulder, and you groaned, but sat up, shaking your head to clear it before blinking your eyes into the lights again, trying to readjust.

“Okay, maybe I’m a little tired.” He only nodded his head, watching as you stood up on shaky legs, and following behind you. “My parents are going to be here all night. I can just tell.” You glanced over at them, finding them sitting around one of the tables, chatting away happily with no signs of stopping any time soon, and Dave slipped an arm around you, directing you over to where his mother was and showing you that he was in the exact same boat. “Come get my coat with me?”

He nodded, following after you, and lifting it down to help you pull it up your arms, booking yourself a cab as he tied your scarf around your neck for you, making sure you were nice and cosy.

Another yawn was pulling at your lips, and the second it was finished, he was offering you a soft kiss, one that you barely had the energy to return as you began to slip closer to just passing out in your exhaustion. Time zones were a real bitch, you were getting the short end of the stick with jetlag, but it was all worth it.

“You know, I could come with you? We could stay at my place, tonight?”

“I should probably stay in my own bed for the first night back, don’t you think?”

The cold was enough to make you gasp loudly as you stepped into the night air, suddenly feeling a lot more awake than you had a moment ago as your breath clouded in the air, making you shiver, sticking your hands into your coat pockets as you moved down to the curb to wait for your taxi to arrive. Seeing headlights coming around the end of the road, you could barely make it out, but suspected it to be your vehicle, and you rocked up onto the tips of your toes to steal another kiss from him, his lips working against your own just as eagerly. Licking along his lower lip, he parted them for you with a soft moan, tongues tangling together, his hands finding your waist and pulling your body flush up to his own, keeping you close.

It was a kiss that was long overdue, finally getting a real moment alone together, nobody around, no crowds, just the two of you for the first time in months, and you were looking forwards to much more time with him like this over the holidays, and beyond it. One of the hands on your waist was now sliding up, tangling into your hair as his head tipped to the side, stealing deeper access to your mouth, before pulling away for breath only a moment later.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay at my place?”

“Tempting. Very tempting.” You mumbled, letting him lean in for further kisses as he laughed softly, the innuendo in his words not being missed but slipping way as irrelevant, and the squealing of tires pulling up only a few metres away told you that your assumptions had been correct, your taxi waiting patiently, phone buzzing in your pocket to confirm it.

“I could make you breakfast if you did.”

“How about you take me out for breakfast on Boxing Day morning? I’ll finish my unpacking and we’ll go for an early morning date.” He sighed, nodding his head and walking over to the car with you, reaching down to open the door.

“Fine, Boxing Day breakfast date it is. But only if you promise that it’s a lunch date and dinner date, too. I want you for the whole day.” He pulled it open, letting you step down from the sidewalk and settle into the seat, closing it and leaning against the open window as you smiled up at him.

“All-day date, you got it.”

“Call me tomorrow?” He questioned, not wanting to hold you up much longer as the driver waited, politely turning up the radio a little as the glass stayed closed, giving you both privacy.

“Of course, I have to wish my man a Happy Christmas, right?”

“It’s much happier now you’re home.” He leaned in, pecking your lips one final time, before stepping away from the car, and sticking his hands into his pockets, the car revving to life a little. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

You nodded, blowing him a kiss and rolling the window back up, the car setting off on its journey.

This wasn’t like last year, where Dave had been waiting in unknowing anxiety as to whether he was even going to see you again. This year, he was filled with confidence, enjoying the part around himself instead of sulking in a corner, because this year, he was happy. You’d texted him a half-hour ago to tell him you were almost ready, and that you’d be on your way over soon, and he was anticipating the arrival of his girlfriend with joy.

He’d allowed his mother to introduce him to as many people as she wanted to, mingling and socialising as she willed him to, until finally, he’d been left along in peace to get a drink. He was now standing still staring down at his phone as he lurked near the dining table, the chairs dragged away into the living room and the wood pushed up to the wall, laid out with food and snacks, and just waiting for you.

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you felt him jump, before your hands were connecting over his middle and he was dropping a hand down to cover yours. His other shifted around between you, tucking his phone into his pocket, before turning in your arms to take you in. Before he did, he leaned down, pressing a careful kiss to your lips as not to smudge the makeup you had done, a fresh layer of lipstick sitting on pouted lips, and he hummed happily as you squeezed yourself in a little closer to him.

“Missed you.”

His words were mumbled against your lips, and you grinned, trying to kiss him through it and whining when he pulled back, but shaking his head, feeling mischief coarse through your veins. “You saw me yesterday. And the day before that, and before that, pretty much all week. Aren’t you sick of me yet?”

“I’m never going to get sick of you, baby.” His hands found your cheeks, tipping you back a little bit as your smiles were pressed together, ruining what would have been a romantic kiss, but you couldn’t contain your joy, cheeks aching as you tried to straighten it. “You look pretty.”

His hands slipped down to find yours, holding you out before him and dropping one, lifting the other to twirl you around in the golden wrap dress that you were wearing, a low whistle on his lips, and he tugged a little at the belt around your waist, raising his brows as the material gaped open a little with your movements, exposing your thigh to him as the hem of the dress at around the middle of your calves.

“This is new.”

“I bought something special for the night, I wanted to feel good.” He grinned, lifting your hand up to sit on his shoulder, before placing both of his own on your waist, nibbling on his lip as he looked at you. “You scrub up pretty damn good yourself, Davie. All black suit, looking hot.”

He smirked, shrugging his shoulders and pulling you back in for another kiss, groaning as the song in the room changed. Your lips were just brushing his, before his mother was darting straight through the room, calling his name loudly, and he sighed, pulling back from you to look up and find his mother, who was trying to shoulder her way through the crowds towards him.

“This is your song, Dave!”

“It’s not my song, this is just a song you play every year and make me dance to because I danced to it once in a middle school play.” His mother took no notice, rolling her eyes and grabbing onto his arm, trying to drag him away. He gripped onto your hand, forcing you to follow him along, until you could see Stella, tearing up the dance floor with the sugar rush she was currently holding, an upbeat song playing over the speakers and vibrating through the floors.

The part was reaching its full mass, the place absolutely teeming with people, far more than should be able to fit into a house like this, even if the gardens were open too, despite the cold weather, and yet there was still a spot cleared on the dance floor for him. His mother had found a dance partner, Stella was dancing with two of her friends in a crazy trio, and Dave was holding his hand out to you, wiggling his brows as the song progressed on. He didn’t give you a chance to mull it over, taking your hand and pulling you into him, your chest crashing into his, before he was positioning you to be able to dance.

“This is the worst song in the world.” You teased, bodies around you moving just as fervently, and he nodded his head, before the lyrics were belting out of him, shouted at the top of his lungs, and you were giggling as he twirled you around. “I am not dancing to this.”

“You have to!” He insisted, still trying to get you to move with him, one arm wrapping around your waist as the other connected with your own, holding it up in a waltz style pose, despite the fact that you’d never be able to waltz to this kind of pop.

“Says who?” Your laughter broke out again as he dipped you backwards, spinning you around, your bodies bouncing a little as you moved to the beat, and you couldn't deny that it was catchy, your feet beginning to move along with his, and the smile on his face only widened as you did.

“Says the laws of being my girlfriend. You have to dance with me, always, even if you think I’m embarrassing you.”

He let out a loud cheer, just to draw attention to you both again, but the smile on his face made it worth it all as you danced with him again. Your inhibitions were slipping away, heart beating rapidly in your chest and laughs drowned over the sounds of the music as you twirled around the room, almost bumping into other people on the dance floor as they joined in. The heat was building, your cheeks flushing as his skin shone with a thin layer of sweat, the song seeming to go on forever, and yet, you couldn't find it within yourself to care, because the moment felt perfect.

When the music finally ceased, you slumped against him, letting him catch you as the two of you panted, a few stray hairs sticking to your forehead for the exertion of the activity, and he laughed breathlessly, holding you up as the funky hip hop tunes continued on, the more tame songs would come along later in the night when only the adults were left, the kids still making the most of the evening.

Looping your arms around his neck, he smirked, hands finding your waist, as the two of you rocked slowly to the upbeat song that was playing, a smile finding your lips when his forehead came down to rest against your own. “So, later on, will you save me a real dance? When the slow songs are playing?”

“Who says I slow dance?”

“The laws of being my boyfriend.” He chuckled at your use of his words against him, before he was dipping down to press a kiss to your lips, sighs sounding from both of you at the chaste connection. “You’ll have to get used to slow dancing with me, Davie. As you said, all our friends are starting to grow up, getting engaged and throwing parties, and I’m going to want to slow dance.”

He nodded his head, spinning you out form his body and twirling you around, before he was bringing you back into his body, a smirk on his lips and mischief flashing across his eyes. “Who says you’re my date?”

“Oh, you got someone else?” You took the bait, gasping falsely as he grinned wider, a cocky look on his face as he held you once again, swaying you in his arms before dipping you backwards, lifting your thigh onto his hip for only moment, and when he pulled you back up, you were even closer than before.

“You know you’re my one and only, baby.”

You leaned up, mouths brushing together again. “Mhm, I better be.”

He closed the gap, teeth scraping over your lower lip at a more passionate connection, sucking on your lower lip slightly, enough to make you moan out a little under your breath,  and his hands tightened on your body. The dancing you were enjoying had become more like swaying, no longer focused on the movements of your feet or the tune of the music, but just on one another.

Your hand came up to tangle in his hair, nails scraping over his scalp lightly as his fingertips dug into your waist, all but burning through the material of your dress, making you feel like flames were consuming you from the inside out. You’d never felt this way with a guy before, Dave mad you feel cherished and loved, everything you always wanted, without ever having to ask, he was perfect for you. He accepted every flaw and rumple, and he never made you feel anything less than beautiful.

You wanted to live in this moment with him forever.

It was short-lived, unsurprisingly, before the two of you were being pulled apart once again to mingle, your mother wanting to introduce you to people and show you off, telling them all about your big university plans, and Dave being forced to help his mother host, the hours of the night passing by.

You were moved from group to group, the same questions being asked every single time, repeating the answers like a script you’d learned as you recited facts about your course, and told them what you liked, and what you thought would be improved on. You were asked about your college experience and the campus, and everything that the middle generation could possibly think of. You were sick of college, you were sick of being asked about how hard it was to be away from your family and friends, or whether it was liberating and gave you your freedom. You didn’t want anything but to enjoy being home, to hear about what you’d missed out in, instead of being interrogated about your life.

You managed to escape from the conversations, hiding away in the corner and letting out a sigh, eyes closing for a second as you tried to steal a moment to yourself, your phone buzzing in your bra from where you had stored it, no pockets or a bag, and just as you reached for it, there was a voice calling your name once again, and you wanted to bite down on the inside of your cheek just to stop a scream of frustration from leaving you.

A blonde head of hair was bobbing towards you, leaving the group within which her date was wowing a collection of the locals with his information on music and his up and coming cat-food album. Aubrey Miller, somebody you had formed a begrudging allegiance with over this last year, the girl constantly messaging you on Facebook, commenting on your Instagram posts and retweeting you, and so you’d simply accepted that she was going to be a part of your life. Besides, you never wanted to feel like the jealous ex, because you weren’t and you knew Dave loved you, but sometimes it irked you how she always seemed to be around at the most inconvenient of times.

Your phone buzzed again, but she was taking both of your hands in hers, squeezing tightly and laughing as though something had been said. “It’s been so long since I last saw you!”

“Yep, that’s right.” You managed to muster a somewhat enthusiastic tone, unsure of how you did it, but she seemed to breeze on over it, charging straight into her next topic. “How is life at college? It’s so far away!”

“Can we talk about something other than college? I’ve been talking about it all evening.”

She paused, chuckling for a second, before nodding her head. “Sure, I haven’t had a chance to talk to you about my new place yet! I’m having a house warming party, and I wanted to invite you. Dave and his family will be there, of course.” You ground your teeth a little, smiling through it as she spoke on behalf of your boyfriend, but knowing that deep down you were just a little frazzled because of the night.

“Sounds fun, I’ll be there.”

“Great, it’s in just a few days, I can send you the details!” You only nodded and smiled, glancing around the room to try and catch sight of your lover, but he was nowhere to be seen. “Besides, it’ll be nice for you and Dave to have some more quality couple time together, I know how lonely he’s been feeling lately.”

A lump formed in your throat, your eyes snapping back to her own as your brows furrowed, narrowing a little as you looked at her. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, gosh, no.” Her eyes widened, shaking her head as she realised how her words had come out. “I know what that came out as, but I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that I hear some things, and he said some stuff earlier tonight.”

“Like what?” You mumbled, arms crossing over your chest as you stared at her, insecurities beginning to creep in.

“Well, I’m the only one still around here, so I talk to the parents a lot. His mom is really proud of him, and of you. She loves you, she talks about you both every book club, but Dave just misses you a lot. He tells her, she spills it to us, that's all. She likes me, but only as a friend. She never liked me the way she likes you, like you’re her own daughter.” You smiled a little at that, warmth blossoming in your chest at the idea of being welcomed so wholly into his family. “I was talking to him earlier tonight, just before you arrived, his mom was grilling him about moving out and making moves, plans for his life, y’know?”

“Yeah, he told me about that.”

“Well, did he tell you the part where he just felt alone, because he never got to see you? I like you, I admire you, I really do, but Dave is my friend. I’m not still in love with him, I’m in love with Ronnie, but him and I went through a hard time and Dave was there for me during that time. I want to be there for him, too.” You were suspicious once again, somehow feeling like you weren’t going to like what was about to come from her. “It’s Christmas, and you’re here now, so clearly we’re on the same page, but I told him that I thought you should be here, because it’s the holidays. I wasn’t trying to start anything, I was just giving him the same real talk that he gave me when I couldn’t see the truth about Ronnie.”

“The truth? Are you trying to tell me that you told Dave you didn’t think I was good enough for him?”

“No, of course not! I just told him that I thought he should be thinking about why you couldn't be here, and whether you were growing too busy for him, and he should prepare himself before any more hurt came.” Your jaw clenched, and she cursed under her breath, seeming to realise that she still wasn’t getting her words right. “I’m messing this all up.”

“You think?”

She pursed her lips at your hissed out words, and you stiffened as you felt arms sliding around your waist, a chin hooking over your shoulder, and she excused herself, pointing over her shoulder, before disappearing into the crowds, and you twisted around in the arms of the man who was holding you. “You haven’t been replying to my texts.”

“You feel alone?”

His face dropped, the smile disappearing, and eyes widening as he looked at you. “What?”

“You confessed to Aubrey and not me?” He looked panicked, freezing up before you, and you placed your hands on his cheeks, trying to reassure him a little, not wanting him to bolt or get overly anxious. “You should tell me these things. I’m your girlfriend, if we’re having issues, I want to know about it.”

He held onto your hand, bringing your knuckles to his mouth, pressing kisses along them as he sighed. “We don’t have any issues at all, sweetheart. It’s just me being insecure and needy, that’s why I didn’t tell you. I just miss you a lot, but I know you’re busy.”

“I would make more time for you, though, if I knew you needed me.”

“Yeah, but then you’d be putting all your work aside, and you’d get more stressed than you already are, and I don’t want that.” Your heart warmed, watching him put your needs before his own, and you leaned up enough to bump your noses together. “I’m sorry, I just wish we had some more time together.”

“I know, but we will, okay? I promise, the future holds a lot of quality time for me and you.”

“It does?”

There was a hopeful tone to his voice that made your lower lip tremble a little, pressing a series of kisses to his lips that were for his assurance as well as your own, and he sighed happily at knowing you weren’t angry with him, kissing you back until you pulled away. “Wanna’ find a quieter? We can have some quality time.”

“Yeah?” He wiggled his brows a little, and you grinned, already knowing exactly where his mind had gone. “It’s loud in here. I keep getting pulled away to mingle. You know what I really want?”

“What do you want, honey?” You reached up, fingers smoothing through his hair, weaving through the strands as you tried to restyle the hair atop his head that was starting to flop back down into his forehead as the gel wore off.

“I just want to makeout with my girlfriend on New Year's Eve, like I should be able to. I’m young and horny, and my girl is hot, I don’t want to spend it away from her and socialising.” He huffed out the words, and you tried to cover up your laugh, raising your brows. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“Because I’m remembering how we missed last year’s countdown, and your mom was furious about it, and she didn’t even know what we’d really done.” His lips parted a little as he remembered it, eyes glazing over as he went back to that moment, and his lips were beginning to curl up at the edges, pulling your body in a little closer to his own. “Stop that, I know where your mind is going.”

“You brought it up!”

“To prove to you that we have to stay here!” You laughed, and his hands ran a little further down your sides, pushing you closer to the wall, and your breathing hitched in your throat as his grip became tighter, body pressing into you as you were pushed up into the surface. “Dave..”

“We could be quick, back in time for the countdown. Nobody has to know.”

You shook your head, resistance beginning to fail as his nose nuzzled at the underside of your jaw, lips dragging over your skin teasingly, before he was pressing a soft kiss to the spot just below your ear that made you shake in his hold, your body betraying you as a tremor wracked along your body, making you arch up into him a little further.

“C’mon, kitten. You look so good tonight, and now you got me thinking about sex. What do you expect from me, when you’re here looking this good, and you’re all mine, huh?”

“You’re such a pain in my ass.” You muttered, already preparing to cave in to his pleadings, before he was pinching at your ass roughly through your dress, snickering at the yelp you let out as he did, and he palmed roughly at the patch instead. As you released a little moan, his mouth closed over yours to silence you, a hot kiss as his tongue plunged into your mouth, tangling with your own without even a second’s hesitation.

You were putty in his hands, and you already know it. Clearly, he did too, because his hips were pushing into yours as he held you up to the wall, risking it all as people continued to wander around you, and it only took one o the more conservative neighbours or one of your parents to see for it all to be over, the two of you to be chastised like children again, taking you back to your youth, but you had absolutely no reservations when it came to him.

As you finally pulled back for breath, feeling his lips trace along your jaw, you nodded your head, giving in and telling him what he wanted to hear. “Okay, let’s go.”

He snapped up, lips a little swollen and eyes glossy, a look on his face that made your thighs clamp together and rub with need, and his gaze flickered down as he caught onto the action. Taking your hand in his, he dragged you away, glancing back at you over his shoulder as he heard you giggle, before making his way to the staircase. He went ahead of you, your feet barely having touched halfway up the set, before your eyes were closing in on the hoards of people upstairs, too.

It was twice as busy as it had been last year, the two of you having been able to sneak away to the empty upstairs, but even the corridors outside of his bedroom were busy, and as you finally pushed through the people to open the door, finding his bed piled high with coats, bags and purses.

“Of course.” He mumbled, practically hearing his mother’s voice yelling at him again for disappearing, a little task clearly done on purpose to ensure the two of you had nowhere to sneak off to this time, but he wasn’t giving up so easily. “Basement?”

You nodded, falling into step beside him, and chasing after him, adrenaline and excitement racing through your veins. There was always the risk of getting caught, there was last time too, but this was something else. Last time, you didn’t know what would come of it, it could've been a one-time thing, and so this one was all new kinds of thrilling. A year into your relationship, and you were making up for all the time that you had lost, searching for new excitement as you celebrated the time that had passed together.

As your fingers hooked onto the door to the stairs leading down, the light was already on, your stomach sinking, and the further down you went, the more kids you already found hanging out down there, a game of twister in play as thirteen year old girls all squealed and giggled, eyes wide as they stared at you while trying to balance.

You both mumbled your apologies for interrupting, backing your way out, and there was a pout on his lips as you returned to the main party. Leaning up, your body slumped into his, large hands smoothing over your back, before you were teasing the lobe of his ear with your teeth, a shudder rolling over his body as you did. “Don’t you have a treehouse?”

“Only if I can climb up the ladder behind you.”

“You’re going to get to see what’s up my skirt anyway.” You scoffed, and he only winked, the two of you stumbling out into the back garden dirty little jokes and exchanges as you poured out of the back door. There were considerably fewer people milling around the garden, the cooler temperatures making people prefer the indoors, and as you approached the treehouse, a muffled set of giggles caught your attention from the top of the ladder as you stood at the bottom.

An incredulous look flashed over your features at the idea that someone might have actually already beat you to that spot, and Dave groaned in frustration, kicking at the wood before him, and the ladder trampled a little from the force. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!”

He turned to look at you, frustration flicking across his face as disappointment set in, your shoulders rising and falling in a shrug, not sure what else to say, and the two of you began to trudge back inside. The backdoor way was blocked as you approached it, Dave’s hands clenching by his sides as he navigated you around to the side of the house, using the spare key to open the garage door, and knowing that there was a lock to the main kitchen from inside of it.

Sealing it up behind yourselves and replacing the hidden key, he navigated himself between his car and his mom’s, parked at alternating angles toward the kitchen, and an idea flashed through your mind.

“Dave!”

“Yeah?” His hand was sitting on the handle to the kitchen, ready to flick the lock on it open, light spilling out from the crack under the door.

“We’re alone.” He paused, and your arms motioned out around yourself, the chill of the room quickly making your hands clamp back up at your sides, and he seemed excited for just a second, before shivering himself.

“It’s freezing, and there’s nowhere to lay down.”

“Come over here and warm me up, then.” You smirked, leaning against the edge of his car next to the front, and his face lit up, hopping back down the steps towards you. Hands hooked under your thighs, lifting you into his arms for just a second, before the cold metal of the car’s hood was pressing into you, making you gasp at the chill, his body taking place between your parted thighs.

It all became irrelevant, though, when his mouth collided with yours, slamming together with heated intensity, and all of that burning passion came rushing back. Hands were burning on your thighs, bringing your legs around to wrap at his waist, the material of your dress falling aside as the wrapped material fell open, rough palms dragging over the smooth skin.

One hand was sitting on his face, feeling his jaw moved under your own, sharp and smooth from where he’d freshly shaven, rough kisses making your lips sting as you pressed back with an equal kind of love, your other hands tingling in his hair. Your lungs were burning for oxygen, your head spinning the longer you prolonged the inevitable. Finally pulling back for breath, you dragged your mouth along his jaw, feeling the moan that rumbled up in his throat as you licked your way along the column, his pulse pounding beneath the skin as you kissed across that same spot.

He tipped his head back, letting you work longer, and when your lips came to meet the collar of the same dress shirt he wore, your hands slipped down to his shoulders, to his chest, nails scratching at the muscles underneath loft and he puffed up into your hold, before your fingers were finding the buttons.

“I love it when you wear smart shirts.” You mumbled, each space of skin exposed as you undid his shirt being pressed with a kiss from your lips, faint marks of your lipstick being left over his skin the lower you went, until you were untucking it from the belt around his waist, and leaving it to hand open. Goosebumps travelled over his skin when your nails scraped across the lightly defined muscles of his abs, red marks being left in your traces as you did, your fingers hooking into the belt loops of his jeans. “God, you’re so fucking hot.”

“I was just thinking the same thing about you.” He mumbled, fingers playing with the belt around your waist, the sequinned design making it harder for him to find the catch, but when it fell loose, he was quick to let it drop away to the floor, discarded as you pulled his belt free from his jeans. “You’re telling me that all that’s holding this whole dress shut is two buttons?”

His eyes were wide, nimble fingers undoing the button on the outside, and pushed the base of the dress open a little more, a smirk forming on his lips, before looking up to catch your eyes.

“Wearing my favourite panties, too, huh?”

“Not the matching bra, though.” Your words were whispered, a hoarse voice, and he licked over dried lips, before popping the final button and letting the material expose you to him fully. He hummed happily, two hands smoothing across your stomach, pushing you down until the cold metal of the car until you were laying back across it, large palms cupping at your tits and squeezing roughly.

You couldn't help the way you pushed up into his hands, a loud moan falling from you, and he shushed you quietly, bending at the waist to press a wet kiss to the spot just under your ribs, licking at the spot teasingly as he worked his way down and around your navel. “Keep quiet, baby, we don’t want anyone to come in here and see you with your legs wrapped around my head, do we?”

A single finger ran under the crotch of your panties, knuckle brushing over your clit, and you bit down on your lip to contain the whimper that such a feeling aroused within you, your hips bucking against his hand. He pulled back, snapping the edge of the lace garment against your folds, chuckling at the gasp you made when he did, before he was pushing them to the side. Holding them or of the way, dragging a finger across your slit, a happy sound produced from him as slick coated the tip of the digit, swirling with a filthy sound bouncing around the two of you as he did, sinking a single finger into your walls.

“So wet for me. I love getting this reaction out of you. What got you all worked up tonight, hm?” He was sinking further down, nipping along the indies of your trembling thighs, and despite the cold metal you were laying along, you were already burning up from the inside out, eagerly awaiting the moment in which his mouth would reach the place that you wanted it the most. “Was it the dancing? Or the outfit? Tell me what made you like this.”

He pumped the finger slowly, and your hands formed fists, nails digging into your skin as you found your first orgasm beginning to build rapidly within your stomach, guts winding up into a tightening coil and you tried to catch your breath just to be able to reply. “You did.”

“Mhm, I know that, but what specifically?” He pushed, dragging his tongue slowly over your centre, and you let out a loud cry, cutting it off halfway through by covering your mouth with your hand, eyes rolling back in your head as the pad of his tongue dragged slowly across your clit, electricity sparking across your body. “You can have what you want as soon as you use your words, kitten.”

“You did! Just you, nothing special. I just love you, you drive me crazy.” Your words were slurred and rushed out, but he paused for a second, his finger no longer pumping but instead curling within you, pad searching along your walls until he found the spot he was looking for, your entire body jerking at the stimulation with you.

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Dave, please! You know how I feel about you, stop teasing me now.” He nodded, pressing down once more on the patch within you that made you cry out, before he was pulling back, sinking to his knees entirely and giving you exactly what you wanted. A hot and wet mouth closed over your folds, tongue parting them and licking at everything that had already built up, teasing around your entrance as he slurped up what you had to give. Teeth dragged across your clit, enough of a sting to make you cry out into the cover of your hand, your eyes rolling in your head hips bucking up into his face, and he was more than happy to allow it.

Easing your thighs up onto his shoulders so he could move deeper, your legs clamping around his head with every motion he made, every shake of his head as he worked at your centre, lips sealing around the throbbing button nestled between your thighs to focus on the pleasure it brought you. Dave was skilled with his mouth, he’d known what he was doing since the very first time he’d gone down on you, but basic skills had become honed to your body, being able to read you, everything he did bringing you closer and closer to melting bliss.

Tears lined your eyes, squeezing shut to contain them as the simulations all became too much, and your other hand came down to thread into his hair, pulling roughly, your words muffled by the hand covering your mouth, and it became your only way of communicating with him. Fingertips were digging into the muscle of your thighs, holding you still as he dove into you, again and again, tongue lapping at every drop that came from you.

His tongue was plunging in and out of you, fucking you against the wet article as your keened up and into his hold, writhing against the hood of the car, speech becoming completely incomprehensible. Dave was by no means boring in bed, but there was always something exciting about the idea of fucking right when there was someone on the other side of a door, and right now there was a wheel party that might hear you scream Dave’s name, because as his tongue traced at your walls, lips and teeth teasing over your clit, alternating between where he wanted to please you the most, your arm was growing heavier and heavier, your climax teetering on the edge.

He knew it too, reading you like a book, pulling away and prying your legs from around his head before he was grabbing a hold of you and pulling you up to stand. Your legs buckled underneath you, almost falling away to the floor if it wasn't for his hands supporting you, a dark chuckle was sounding in your ear, a wet kiss placed to your cheek, before he was turning you around. Your hands pressed to the car, using it for support as he pressed up behind you, fingers dipping down and under the waistband of your panties.

He wasted no time, two fingers plunging into your already stretched out core, and just as a loud cry of his name left you, his other hand was skating up, over your throat, making your breathing hitch, before he was tipping your head back onto his shoulder. A thumb slipped into your mouth, and you sucked onto it, using the digits to muffle yourself as two fingers began to slam in and out of you.

It was oddly reminiscent, the amusement of the thought flashing across your mind for a split second, about just how comparative this was to New Years last year. Dave standing behind you, hand in your panties and cock straining into your ass as he prepared to fuck you senseless, except this time it wasn’t just lust, but love too.

As your peak came crashing over you, your eyes were rolling back in your head, shaking in his arms as he held you tightly, your underwear becoming far too uncomfortable as your juices slicked up his fingers, ruining the material as he kept going to rid you through it, the pads of his fingers brushing against your sensitive walls, the heel of his hand brushing over the swollen bud that fireworks explode within you.

When you finally couldn't take it anymore, he let you go, slumping down in an undignified manner across the hood of the car. Your dress was half hanging off of you, and you shucked the material down your arms and to the floor, feeling like you were burning alive in it now, skin covered with a thin layer of sweat from the heat building between you both, and your thighs were still twitching a little.

A hand came down roughly on your ass, and you jerked at the feeling, hissing out a curse to your boyfriend, and he didn’t reply, a more than proud and cocky look on his face as he palmed at the stinging skin.  

“We have two options.” He knelt down, fingers hooking into your panties, pulling them roughly down your thighs, until you could step out of them, and he pressed kisses all the way back up along your skin, until he was standing again. “Option one, I can fuck you over the hood, but you gotta’ keep quiet.” He pinched at your ass cheek, the one he’d laid a spank to, and you moaned, pushing back into his touch.

“And the other option?”

“Option two, you can ride me in the front seat, and scream as loud as you want.” You whimpered, managing to find enough strength to turn around to face him, fingers hooking into his belt loops and stand up a little further.

“I like option two.” You whispered your response against his mouth, lips brushing together, and he could only nod, tongue flicking out to lick at your mouth a little, spreading the taste of you to your own lips until it was smeared there. He reached behind you, pressing up to you until you fell backwards, and he opened the door, stepping away from you with a wide smirk and half-lidded eyes.

Tugging open the front of his jeans, the zipper grated angrily as it came undone, and he palmed at himself through the thick material, thumbs hooking into the waistband to push both the denim and the cotton of his underwear beneath it down, a dripping and flushed red cock springing up, slapping against his stomach and leaking with shining precum, bobbing in the cool air, a sight that made you legs clench together tightly.

Collapsing down into the passenger seat, he patted at his thighs, tempting you forwards while rummaging through the dash box, finding one of the emergency condoms that the two of you kept hidden in his car at all times, and tearing the little packet open as you settled across his lap, cramped into the chair. As he rolled the rubber along his length, pumping himself slowly, and you cranked back the lever on the seat to push it backwards.

As he laid down you were granted more pace, hair falling around the pair of you like curtains, hiding the meshing of your lips as your hands found a home on either side of his shoulders to support the weight of you above him. His hands were on your hips as you sank down, rolling yourself along his length, the head of his cock dragging through your folds and pushing with a delicious friction against your button every single time.

Finally, when the tension became too much, he shifted, hips bucking up and into you, the head of his cock sinking within your walls, and he reached one hand out to find the car door, pulling on it and slamming it shut, before bucking his hips up the rest of the way inside of you. Your arms trembled, almost dropping you down onto him as the pressure of his cock within you stretched you to your limits, filling you up perfectly just as he did every single time, his name spilling from you in a drawn-out whine as he gave you a moment to adjust.

“That’s right, baby, call my name. Tell the world who makes you feel this good.”

“Dave!” He leaned in, sitting you up a little in his lap and helping you start to make rhythms with your hips, lips closing around one perky nipple. Your fingernails were dragging marks into the pale flesh of his shoulders as you held on for dear life, his mouth working over your chest with the same vigour and determined enthusiasm that he’d used to assault your core. “Fuck, Dave!”

The head of his cock was pressing up to that spot within you that made everything go fuzzy, the world melting away until it was just the two of you left. As you grew more in your confidence, the simple circling and rocking of your hips became more, you became bold enough to lift yourself up, slamming yourself back down onto him, and he switched to your other breast, equal treatment being shared across your body.

“Oh, my God. You’re so fucking good..” Your words were whined out, and you couldn't wait for the morning, when you’d wake up with that ache between your legs, body littered with fading bites and bruises made out of love, and he was beginning to thrust his hips up a little into you. For every movement that he made to meet you, another fizz of electricity and excitement raced through your veins, another moment here your entire body lit up with sunshine and fireworks just for him, because he took you to heights of pleasure that you’d never before experienced.

“Louder, kitten. Scream louder for me, like I know you can.”

He licked over the pad of his thumb, slipping the hand between your bodies, and pressing down roughly on the already overstimulated bud that was throbbing and desperate for attention with every brush across the hair-smattered skin at the base of his cock. “Dave!”

“Louder!”

Two fingers pinched at your clit, and your head was thrown back, eyes welling with tears at the joy of pain that made you unravel once again, nails ripping marks into his skin as you quivered on top of him, his name leaving your lips in a loud scream like a mantra. The windows were fogging up, the heat becoming unbearable around you both, and yet it still felt perfect, the two of you boiling in hell as you roasted within the weight of your sins; filthy and reckless, utterly debaucherous as you stole yet another chink of one another’s innocence with each dirty act.

You couldn't help it, the need that washed over you, the easy way that every time you were with him felt addictive never wanting to pull away, no matter how spent you became, because chasing a high with home was just too good to pass up on.

Your forehead pressed to his, skin slick and sliding together with sweat, and you slammed yourself back onto him, riding him for everything that you were worth, and from the way he was beginning to shake and quiver underneath you, you could tell that he was nearing a peak that would make his eyes roll back in his head the same way yours did.

“Always so damn tight, so good for me. Perfect, baby, all mine.” He was babbling, the same way he always did when he was nearing his climax, and your walls were fluttering around him, never once taking a break, chasing up both of you final crashing downs. You felt like you’d been electrified, and he planted his feet on the floor, arms circling your waist to pull you down until your legs were folded against the chair, chests pressed together, and he could buck up without restraint into you.

You were boneless, feeling like you’d become nothing but jelly, your throat raw as you cried out his name, eyes crossing at the feeling of how deep he could reach within you, and all that you could hear was the sounds he made, low growls and grunts, cracking voice as he moaned your name and a slew of praises, and your heart beating in your ears.

Your blood was rushing, heart threatening to explode entirely for you both, racing and banging against your ribs.

“Don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop.” You whispered, unable to muster up anything else, and as you came undone for the final time, the clenching of your walls dragged him along with you. He bit down on your shoulder as he came, only dragging out the feelings you were experiencing, and you felt as though you’d blacked out for a moment as your vision spotted, everything within you going numb, except for all the places where you were joined to him, hands on your waist and cock buried inside of you.

“Yes, kitten, fucking hell!”

“I know!” You squeaked, the aftermath of your orgasm making you twitch and clench around him, and he groaned, squirming at the overstimulation and lifting you off of him, pacing you down into the driver’s seat.

The windows were fogged up, marks streaked across the glass as you wiped them clear, and you reached across, opening one of the doors and sighing happily at the cool breeze that swept across your body. There was a chafing sting along the backs of your thighs from the denim that was still bunched tightly around his upper legs, and he cringed as he peeled back the condom that was still wrapped around his softening cock.

You tried to move, tingling sensations spreading the whole length to the tips of your fingers and toes as you tried to wiggle some kind of feeling back into them, sitting up a little as you made attempts to regain control of your body, and your elbow recessed into the horn, a scratch sounding from you as it sounded out loudly. Your boyfriend jumped too, loud barks of laughter leaving him as you did, and you almost joined him, before panic was washing over you both, heads snapping over to the garage door that connected to the kitchen, fear making your blood turn to icy cement in your veins.

When nobody came through, he turned to shoot out a mock glare, slapping at your thigh lightly. Lifting his hips up awkwardly, he managed to tug his jeans back up, searching around for his shirt and finding it discarded on the floor, unaware of when he’d even taken it off, but finding it messed up alongside the various garments that you had been wearing too.

“Think we should go back?”

“Probably.” He sighed, leaning over the centre console for a kiss, lips puckered and a hand landing on your cheek to pull your mouth down to his, delicate and sweet as he made the most of the final moments.

When you felt like you might be able to stand up without falling, you removed yourself from the car, the temperatures having dropped as you came down, and the chill of the crisp December air was making goosebumps rise through your skin. He was messing with his belt when you finally had your panties back on, your dress on your arms but hanging open, the same way his shirt was, and he closed up the car doors, chuckling at the way you wobbled as you buttoned your dress back up.

His hands found your hips, mouth coming back to claim your own, smeared lipstick making his pale skin stand out even more, and you giggling against his mouth, the rubbing of his thumbs through your dress was soothing and relaxing, bringing you back down to earth from the cloud nine that he’d taken you to, and you did up the buttons along the front of his shirt, trying to get them right without looking, but in your haze, the task was too hard, and you dragged your lips from his kiss to be able to check the task.

He smoothed down your hair for you, grinning at the messed up state that it had become, and you ran a finger around the edges of your lips to clear away the smeared lipstick that was now just a mess on both of your mouths, and you were glad that it had already begun to fade somewhat before this had all taken place.

He licked at his own lips, making sure the colour you’d printed onto him was gone, and when you finally judged yourselves to be appropriate again, or as appropriate as you were going to get, he opened the door for you both to reenter the house. The kitchen was warmer, and while you’d adjusted to the difference in temperature while Dave’s body had been pressed up to your own to keep you warm, you were glad to be back into the heated room. The doors were all closed now, the crowds having thinned, parents with younger children or older parents leaving, and yet there were still enough people that you managed to slip back into the party without being noticed as absent.

“See? Fifteen minutes ‘til the countdown. We’re just in time.”

Champagne flutes had been laid out along the island in the kitchen, all filled up perfectly, and Dave had two in his hands, passing one over to you, and you clinked them together, fingers weaving and palms pressed or one another’s as you walked into the rest of the house. The music had quietened, and the television had been turned on, the countdown displayed prominently on the screen as the final few minutes began to tick down, and Dave’s mother was making the rounds with a bottle of champagne to top up the glasses of anybody who needed it, always laying the perfect hostess.

Taking a small sip of the liquid in your glass, you winced slightly, but swallowing it anyway. It wasn’t your drink of choice, and you weren’t particularly keen on it, but since the two of you were not only celebrating the new year, but celebrating your anniversary, you were indulging in something a little classier. Dave’s hand was sitting low on your waist, letting you curl into his side, the night plodding on, and Stella and her friends were sprawled out on the couch, all looking absolutely exhausted, trying their very vest to keep their eyes open for long enough to see the countdown.

Now that it wasn’t as busy, you could see the extent of the mess left by the party, food trays and empty platters stacked high on the dining table, plastic cups and paper plates all over the room, both floors and surfaces, and there was enough leftover food and crumbs that it would probably fill a bag all on its own. Party poppers had been set off by the younger children before their parents had taken them home, leaving confetti and streamers on the floor, among the shredded remains of popped balloons and lost belongings. It was a catastrophe, and yet somewhere within yourself, you still couldn't wait until it is you hosting the party, getting to play that role.

A squeeze at your side brought you back to reality, dragging you from your thoughts, and you looked up to your boyfriend, finding him nodding his head towards the television, just as the timer clicked over onto one minute left, everybody beginning to crowd into the room just to see the screen, and you once again found yourself surrounded on all sides.

“What’s your New Year’s resolution, baby?”

You thought about it, unsure yourself as to what it actually was, nibbling on your lower lip a little, before letting out a sigh. “I suppose it would just be to complete this school year to the best of my ability, and to start journaling, because I keep wanting to do that and never get around to it.” He chuckled at the addition, watching as you pouted to yourself for only a moment, before you were turning your attention back to him. “What about you?”

“Same as every year; just to make every moment count. To make good memories.”

You giggled a little, a countdown beginning to start around you as the numbers on the clock hit twenty, and you rolled your eyes slightly, coming to stand before him more clearly. “You’re so cheesy.”

“Maybe, but it’s worked out pretty well for me so far.” His nose bumped against your own, and as the final countdown hit, your eyes were fluttering shut, whispering the figures as they dropped lower and lower, sinking into that same bubble that consisted of only you and he, until his lips were pressing to yours with the number one, a warm and loving kiss, his arm squeezing around you even more tightly than it had been and pulling you up into his chest, your free hand resting over his jaw, thumb stroking lightly across his skin, before settling to sit just behind his ear.

There was loud cheering, shuffling and celebrating, your bodies being jostled as hands landed on your shoulders in pats of congratulations and celebrations, but you paid them no mind, instead simply being focused on the way that it felt to kiss the man you loved as the year clicked over, welcoming you both into your second year of being in a relationship, and being in love.

When he finally pulled back, he pressed an equally adoring kiss to your cheek, and you could feel his smile pressed against you, the last scents of his fading cologne washing over you as you were shifted into a hug, feeling his cheek pressing against your temple. “Happy New Year, baby.”

“Happy New Year, Davie.”

You knew that you should call your parents and wish them the same, and that you should begin to acknowledge all the friends and family that were surrounding you, but for one more selfish moment, you wanted to absorb the time you had with him. When he pulled back, it was to clink your glasses together, one eye dropping in a cheeky wink, before the pair of you were downing what was within your glasses, trying to school the appalled looks on your faces as the taste trickled down your throats, fizzing and making itself known, before it as finally gone.

“Go and find your mom and your sister, I’ll call my parents, and I’ll find you afterwards.”

He only nodded his head, a final peck pressed to your lips, before he was disappearing through the crowds to find them.

You managed to find a quiet corner, pulling out your phone and calling your mother to wish both her and your father a happy New Year, and listening to them talk all about how they’d spent their own evening, bickering playfully about the movie they’d watched and the conversations they’d had, before bidding you a goodnight and telling you to use the spare key to let yourself in, as they’d locked the door, and were on their way to bed.

It was almost fickle how quickly the masses began to clear away. Once they’d had their midnight celebrations and welcomed in the turn of the year, they were already all beginning to leave, cars along the street roaring to life and taxis being called to ferry the more drunken patrons to their addresses, and the people around you were beginning to dwindle.

It wasn’t all that hard to find your love, his height and hair giving him away, messy locks standing out in the crowns of middle-aged neighbourhood women that had gathered around him and his little sister to coo at them and wish them the best, his face flushed a little pink as his eyes finally connected with your own, a look in them that screamed for help.

You hesitated, allowing him to be fussed over for a moment later, before finally, you took pity on him, moving in towards the group and taking the hand that he had outstretched for you. The neighbours didn’t like you nearly as much as they liked him, because he was the ‘handsome young man’ that they wanted to set up with their nieces and grand-daughters, but you were just the polite young lady who had taken that chance away. They favoured Dave greatly, and you weren’t surprised at all, because you favoured him too.

He was honest, well-mannered, funny, and a real sweetheart. His fingers laced with yours, letting you pull him away from the groups, and he followed after you, feet kicking through discarded rubbish on the ground. A yawn was pulling at your lips, and you covered it with your hand, trying to shake your head clear as tiredness crept in.

“Do you want a lift home?”

“I’ll call a cab, you’re just as tired as I am.” You mumbled, and he nodded his head, leaning down to be able to press his forehead to yours as your eyes fluttered shut. “Let me go and grab some bags, and we’ll start getting this place tidied up a bit.”

“Leave it ‘til the morning.” He grumbled, hands locking on your hips to hold you steady, and you laughed softly into the space between you both.

“You’ll hate it in the morning if you do.” You took his hands, stepping away backwards, and pulling him along behind you as you tugged him into the kitchen, leaving him to lean against the counter while you found a couple of new bin bags, and pressed on into his hands. “If you clean up the whole kitchen while I do the living room, the next time we go out to eat, I’ll let you choose where we go.”

“That is a backhanded deal, because you know that you’ll complain and we’ll still go to your place.”

You shrugged, a cheeky grin on your face as you pecked his lips swiftly, barely giving him a chance to reply. “Yeah, well, that’s what you get for loving me.”

“Oh, that’s what I get, huh?” He mocked, grinning as you walked away, and beginning to focus on the kitchen-connected-dining room, sweeping trash into the bag, and you made your way through to the main room. Dave’s mother was bidding farewell to the last of her guests, and Stella was fast asleep on the couch, curled up in her favourite party dress and what seemed to be every single sparkly necklace she owned.

When the door finally closed, you heard the relieved sigh that Dave’s mother let out, and you chuckled, turning to face her upon clearing the top of the television cabinet, no more plastic cups, plates and waste to go into it, and she grinned through her exhaustion as she saw you.

“You shouldn't be doing that, darling, that’s my job.”

“It’s no trouble. I even managed to wrangle Dave into doing the kitchen.” You teased, and she looked completely shocked just at the thought, before you were sharing tired laughs.

She held the bag open, and you grabbed every piece of litter you could find, and you were certain that while the room might look clear now, it would probably be littered with missed pieces of crap in the morning, when fresh eyes after a goodnight’s sleep were cast over it, but you were sure that the Hodgman’s would be able to handle it, especially with the head-start that you were giving them.

With the two of you working together, you managed to clear the halls and closets too, leaving everything empty as far as you could, by the time Dave came to collect the bags, and take them outside to the trash cans. Taking another one, you began to clear upstairs, finding it much tidier than it had been downstairs, only one bag’s worth of rubbish to be thrown out, and you took this one yourself, Dave trying to cover his tiredness as he swept the floors, glitter and confetti cleared from the solid oak floorboards until they were visible once again.

Stella managed to sleep through it all, drooling onto a pillow as she lay half-propped up, and your heart beat just for the sweet little girl, loving her as much as you’d love a little sister. Taking out the last of the litter, the bins were overflowing, the old year being ushered out by plastic and bottle, and you tried to shove it down, dusting off your hands when you finally made all the bags fit. The streetlights were yellowed and dull, making you realise just how late it had gotten and how tired you really were, the stars twinkling overhead and lulling you back into the sleepy haze you’d left behind to clean.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you rubbed at your skin, trying to warm back up as you wandered up to the house, letting yourself in and leaning back against the door as you let out a deep sigh. Dave was making his way up the stairs, carrying his snoozing baby sister, and you watched him go, until he was disappearing from your view along the corridor.

“You okay, sweetie?’

You jumped a little, snapping over to look at his mother, who was watching fondly from the doorway, a nostalgic look on her face as her hands sat on her hips, and you shrugged a little. “Just tired. Thank you for a lovely evening, Mrs Hodgman. I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

She scoffed, waxing a hand as she made her way towards you, and leaning behind you to flick the locks on the door, rubbing your shoulder lightly. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re never a bother. You’re welcome to stay, and Dave can get you all sorted out.”

“Well, I can take the couch and just sl-”

“Oh, honey, I’m a mom, not a nun. You’ve been dating my son for a year now, I’m certain you and my son have shared a bed before, so sharing a bed won’t be an issue tonight.” Your face flared up with heat and you gaped at her, watching as she flicked off the remaining lights around the both of you. “You can stay over, I’ve already left your parents a message to explain. There’s no way I could possibly send you home at this time of night and feel at all like a responsible mother.”

She was walking up the stairs ahead of you, leaving you to stand alone in the darkness with heated cheeks and amused embarrassment coursing through your veins. Following her up the stairs, she slipped into her own bedroom, wishing you a goodnight before the door was clicking shut, and Dave was backing out of his younger sister’s room and turning off the light. He jumped a little as he found you sitting on his bed when he turned around, eyebrows shooting up a little, and he stepped into his bedroom, a softening tired look on his features.

“I think your mom just gave me a version of ‘the talk’.”

“She did what?” He was equally mortified and amused, toeing off his shoes and kicking them into the corner of the room, a hand closing behind his head to tug the material up and over his head, dropping it into the laundry bin in the corner.

“She said she knows we ‘share a bed’, and so tonight we can share a bed.” He snorted a laugh at your words, undoing the belt around his waist and leaving it abandoned on his desk, a smile on his face as he looked at you.

“That means you’re staying the night?”

“Yes, it does. You’d better find your best pair of sweats and a t-shirt for me.” He tapped at his drawers, undoing the button and zipper on his belt to be able to push them away down his legs, the denim pooling at his ankles, and your gaze followed them, a smirk on your face as he almost tripped over them while trying to get them off.

“You know where my clothes are, get them yourself.” He had a cocky look on his face, pulling a pyjama top on alongside his boxers and disappearing into the bathroom to clean his teeth.

It was a true statement, you knew exactly where all of his clothes lay, and you folded yours neatly to rest on his desk, finding a pair of sweats that hung baggy around your ankles and a t-shirt of his to wear, before allowing him into the bathroom. His hip bumped against yours, brush hanging from his mouth as he winked at you in the mirror, pulling a face a moment after, and almost making you gag on the mouthwash you had, chuckling to himself as you spat it away and cursed at him under your breath, and hot tap coming on.

He left you alone to remove your makeup, already curled up in bed with the covers pulled back when you entered the room, door closing behind you and light being flicked off, using memory alone to guide you to where you knew he to be laying.

When you were all tucked in around him, feeling him chuckle at the shuffling you did to get comfortable, you finally settled with facing him in the dark, his hand running up and down over your sides as you adjusted yourself, one leg slung over his, and the minty taste of his breath lingering on your tongue as noses brushed together, sharing a pillow.

“I like this.”

You hummed, eyes closing a little, your hand coming up to find his, bringing it away from your side to instead clasp it between your bodies, and you dipped your head down to press a kiss to the fingers joined with yours. “Sharing a bed?”

“Well, yes, but other things. Getting to see you as much as I have this week, it’s been incredible. I’ve seen you almost every day, and I’d have you by my side even more than that if I could. Going back to college is going to suck.” You squeezed at his hands tightly, a spark of excitement running through you, despite your sleepy state.

“I thought you loved your college? You always tell me such great things about it.”

“Everything else could be world-class, award-winning, and it’d still suck because you’re not there.” His words were slurred with sleep, and you let his hand fall down to rest on the mattress, your palm pressing over his heart, feeling it beat steadily and solidly under your touch.

“Well, that’s no fun, is it? I’m expecting you to show me all of the great things to do.”

He let out a huff of amusement, never shifting, but shaking his head slightly. “Yeah, if we ever get some free time during this year for you to come visit.”

“What if I didn’t just visit? What if I stayed?”

“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart, I might justice you down to the bed and refuse to let you leave.” He seemed to realise how his words had sounded, his body stiffening for just a moment, before breathy and quiet laughter was shared between you both, and he tipped his head up to press a long and slow kiss to your lips, both of you too lazy to really move, and so your lips played a lazy game together.

“I have something to tell you.”

“Oh, yeah? You breaking up with me? Because it would be awfully awkward if you did, we’d have to sleep back to back, and I would much rather cuddle.” He used the arm slung over your waist to pull you in closer, until his chin could rest on the top of your head and he could pull you in enough that your legs tangled and your chests pressed together.

“I’m not breaking up with you, you weirdo.”

“Your weirdo.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just listen to me, okay?’ He made a vague noise of agreement, going quiet despite the snickering that he was holding in, and you toyed with the material of his shirt, scratching lightly at his back as you tried to form words. “You know all the extra work I’ve been doing lately?”

“The work that’s been keeping you extra busy?” He sounded like he was pouting, a sulky voice, and you squeezed him a little tighter, not sure that you could get any closer to him if you tried, by now.

“It’s not been college work. Technically.”

“Extra credit?” He was half-asleep now, and you wanted to get this out before you lost him to sleep.

“No, transfer papers, and the likes.” You heard the sudden intake of breath that he too, body tensing up beside you, and then he was shifting a lot, pulling back and holding your face in both of his hands, more alert and awake than he had been for hours now. “There was a lot to do, I had class papers and catch-up assignments, and I still haven’t sorted out housing, but it went through. From now on we won’t have timezone struggles or differing social calendars, but our only problems would be different class schedules.”

“You’re serious?”

“One hundred percent.” You barely got your laugh out before his mouth was descending onto your own, a kiss that portrayed everything there was to say. Love, passion, adoration, gratitude, excitement, anything and everything that you could think of, feeling it all being conveyed.

This was exactly the reaction you’d been hoping for, you wanted him to be as thrilled as you were at the potential that the two of you would have, sharing a college as you moved to be closer to him, and there was a wetness to his cheeks as he twisted his head one gasping breath before he was dicing back in to kiss you again.

“I love you, Dave. I’m sick of being away from you.”

“I love you so fucking much.” He mumbled, lips stinging as they pressed for his, trying to return the eager kisses that he was gifting to you. When you finally needed a real breath, you pushed him back, shushing his complaints and groaning as you did, twisting your body to rest your head on his shoulder, and he kissed along the top of your head, any space he could reach, before finally laying back down into the blankets and settling in for sleep. “Happy New Year’s to me.”

#dave hodgman #dave hodgman x reader #dave hodgman x reader smut #dave hodgman/reader #dave hodgman/reader smut #dave hodgman the first time #dylan obrien dave hodgman #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #dylan obrien the first time

[kisskeiji]

P R O L O G U E

Lost & Found

WARNINGS: language, cheating, violence (?) 

 When it comes to love, we all expect a fairy tale, a happy ending where the prince and the princess stay together forever and ever. Where love remains untouched even when time passes by. In real life, that fairy tale means a future together, the need for domesticity and endless support from and for your loved one, at least, that's what she thought, and she was fine with daydreaming about a life together with the man she spent the last four years with.

Y/N was hardworking, in fact, sometimes, she was too much of a hard worker, pushing herself to the limit to fulfill all her goals. As a mass communication major, she studied hard every day and tried to keep up with everyone’s expectations, including her own. As a bartender, she worked every night at some popular bar to pay for rent, school and basic needs. Even when she came home at ungodly hours and passed out from exhaustion she was always up in time to get ready to head to class. As a daughter, she tried to make her parents proud by doing her best at school, catching up with them weekly and sharing all she could. As a sister and friend, she was doting and always available, up to anything, the type to make you laugh and stay with you at your lowest. And even with her hectic lifestyle where she barely had time for herself; she was a girlfriend.

Y/N was devoted.

She had more love inside her than she could ever handle. She loved with everything she had, and if she loved and cared for her friends and family, all her adoration and devotion was focused on her boyfriend, Iwaizumi Hajime. She loved the man dearly, he was the reason why she worked so hard, the reason why she kept going even when her own body screamed for help, and she tried so hard to make him happy and proud. So proud that he could see a future with her by his side. She wanted nothing more, even if it meant leaving a lot of opportunities behind just to be by his side.

You see, after being in a long-distance relationship for a little over a year, they both thought they could go through anything and still be there for each other. They both promised to never be apart for that long again, they couldn’t take it.

Everyone rooted for them, they saw their love bloom, grow and go through one of the roughest patches in every relationship. For everyone, including them, their love was invincible. Stronger than any bond. The type of love that lasts forever. But lately the love they both professed to each other was often overlooked, more like, all her sacrifices and efforts were not enough proof of how much she loved him.

She noticed. Of course, she did. When she started to stay more hours studying for her upcoming finals, when she took longer shifts at the bar and spent more time out rather than home. She noticed how his eyes lingered on her when she got up to get ready for school and how much he longed for her touch. She also noticed when he stopped.

‘He thinks I don’t love him’ She thought to herself. And she tried, she really did. By cooking his breakfast and lunch everyday before leaving, by leaving sticky notes where he could see them, by kissing him goodnight and texting him all through the day to check up on him. And still it was not enough.

Acts of service could never replace the value of intimacy and physical touch, and she knew that.

‘Just a little longer’ she tried to convince herself everyday when she walked home from work. ‘It will all be worth it.’

And that comes down to this very moment, when she opened the door of their  shared apartment with fatigue numbing her limbs and making her feel dizzy. She left her bag right beside her shoes and walked in. Something was off, that was all she could think of when she made her way to the living room.

A moan.

Her breath hitched for a second and with fear she looked up, finding Iwaizumi kissing another girl on the kitchen counter both missing many clothing items.

The world stopped. She couldn’t think of anything else more than the scene that unraveled in front of her. Was she dreaming? Because it was not funny, it felt more like a nightmare. The numbness of her limbs travelled all the way until it reached every part of her body. Tears gathering in her eyes but never falling. She just walked backwards trying to run away but at the same time unable to stop looking at him as heartbreaking the scene was, her eyes were on him filled with hurt and disgust.

Taking a deep breath, she turned around on her heels and tried to walk away, to her disgrace, her presence was sensed by the girl who was now in Hajime´s arms. Terrified she pulled away and told him to turn around and fear invaded his body. He turned around and saw her pick up her bag and leave the apartment without a word.

“Y/N!” He called.

“Who was that?” the girl asked petrified.

“My girlfriend.” He replied looking for his phone dialing her number.

“You had a girlfriend?” She asked. She didn’t know. When he didn’t answer her question, she hopped off the counter and tried to gather her clothes to get dressed.

He pulled his pants up and throwing his shirt on he ran after her. When he got to the hallway, he saw her on the elevator, pushing the closing button repeatedly for it to close faster.

“Y/N!” He screamed. She looked at him with nothing but pain in her eyes. His heart dropped “Babe. Babe please listen to me; I can explain but please come back.” He tried to talk to her making his way as fast as possible, but the doors closed right before he could reach her.

 Once she was out of his sight her shoulders dropped and released all the air she was holding in.

‘What the fuck is going on?’

Even when no one was watching the state of shock took all over her body, she just stared at her distorted reflection with blank eyes. A loud ‘ding’ followed by the doors opening brought her back to reality and she took a step out walking towards the end of the hall. Knowing he will be looking for her outside her only option was to hide somewhere else, luckily two of her friends lived a few floors above. With three knocks at the door she sighed once again and prayed for Akaashi and Bokuto to be home.  A minute later, Bokuto’s tall figure opened the door and greeted her with excitement.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” He asked with a smile.

“Hey, Bokuto, uhm… Can I come in?” she asked trying to hide the urge to cry with a forced smile.

“Sure.” He moved out of the way and let her in “Are you okay though?” He asked once he noticed her unusual mood, before she could answer he called for his roommate “Hey, Akaashi, Y/N is here.”

“Y/N?” Akaashi’s head peaked from the kitchen as he watched her sit on the couch.

“Hi Akaashi, sorry for bothering you guys so late.” She forced another smile at him and waited for the inevitable question.

“Something happened? Where’s Iwaizumi-san?” Akaashi walked towards her.

“Outside.” She answered trying to find a way to explain what just happened. How are you supposed to tell people you just saw your boyfriend fucking another girl on your kitchen counter?

“Outside? What is he doing outside?” This time Bokuto took a few steps closer and crouched in front of her with concern on his eyes.

“He is looking for me, but I don’t want to see him right now.” She explained without looking at the two boys who stood in front of her. Before they could ask anything else, she spoke “I came home, and he was with another girl.”

“What?” Akaashi asked startled, regretting it almost instantly.

She sighed.

“He cheated on me.” Was the only thing she could say before she trembled and started crying, instinctively Bokuto embraced her in his arms and she broke down completely.

“What did I do wrong?” She asked in a whisper.

“You did nothing wrong Y/N, you gave your everything to him, it’s not your fault, it’s on him for taking you for granted.” Bokuto tried to console her, both of them letting her cry for a while knowing she needed to let it all out. 

“I’m gonna kill him.” The gray haired said once she pulled away.

“Bokuto.” Akaashi tried to stop him but he was already at the door.

“Bokuto, please don’t, he is going to know I am here, and you can get in trouble.” She said standing up.

“But he deserves it, Y/N, he made you cry and-”

“And it’s not worth it. Please don’t do anything stupid.” She said and he looked back at her unable to express his anger. It was so unfair for you to feel that way and he wanted nothing else than breaking Hajime’s nose.

“Fine. But if I see him near you, I will beat the shit out of him. We are not going to let him hurt you again.” He said as he walked back to the kitchen.

“Thanks. Can I use your bathroom for a bit?” She asked, looking at Akaashi.

“Sure, I’m making you some tea so you can calm down.” He said following Bokuto. She nodded and entered the bathroom.

She didn’t know what she was looking at. Was it the same person or her reflection was tricking her? She did not recognize herself at all. She felt stupid. For thinking their relationship would last forever, for loving so hard, for sacrificing everything for him and getting a heartbreak in return.

‘What am I supposed to do now? Do I know how to live without him?’ All those questions started to flood her mind all at once, there was no way she was coming back to him. She knew better than everyone that she was strong, but this was different, a different kind of pain, her heart felt heavy and she could barely breathe.

She joined her friends in the kitchen after a few minutes and a call to her sister, they both shared knowing glances as she entered the room, Akaashi finished brewing the tea and poured the beverage for her.

“Do you want to stay the night?” Akaashi asked as he handed the mug.

“Oh no, don’t worry, I just called my sister. I'm staying at her place tonight.” She explained taking a sip from her drink.

“Is she picking you up?” Bokuto asked.

“I’m taking a taxi; she doesn’t live that far from here.”

And so, she did, after she finished the tea Akaashi made and called a taxi. Bokuto made sure Iwaizumi was out of the way so she could leave accompanied by Akaashi who walked her to the car. She thanked him and gave him a hug before she left.

Walking back to his apartment, Akaashi saw Iwaizumi walking frantically inside the building while he talked to someone on the phone.

“Hey, Kaede, right? I don’t know if you remember me, I’m Y/N’s boyfriend.” 

Akaashi’s blood boiled when he heard him but decided to avoid an unnecessary argument that could possibly upset Y/N even more.

“Do you know where she could be by any chance? Oh, wait a second.” He said when he saw Akaashi walking back to the elevator. “Hey, Akaashi!” He called.

The former setter paid no mind to him, trying his best to not turn a round and give him a piece of mind on how he is probably the last person he wants to talk to and how he doesn’t deserve to talk to Y/N ever again until Iwaizumi got a hold of his shoulder and made him turn around.

“Can I help you?” He asked with clear annoyance in his tone.

‘He knows’ Iwaizumi thought. “Where is she?” He asked.

“I think that’s none of your business right now, Iwaizumi-san. She already had enough for the night, and being honest I don’t have a reason to associate with you anymore, so please, don’t come to me or Bokuto, we are not going to help you clean your mess.” Akaashi said, blue eyes piercing deeper than his harsh words, with nothing left to say he made his way to the elevator again.

“You don’t know what you are talking about, Akaashi, please where is she? I need to know if she is okay.”

“Good night, Iwaizumi-san.” With that the elevator doors closed and Hajime found himself alone once again. Feeling the anger building up inside him he cursed himself for being such an asshole. He knew damn well she did nothing wrong, and that angered him even more, he knew he was doing the wrong thing, he couldn’t even find the reason why it all started.

But it was too late and he knew that she won’t go back to him even if he begged, she asked for one thing, the bare minimum, what you expect from a partner; loyalty. And he failed to deliver that. He was fucked and he knew it, but he still had hope that she would at least listen to him. 

(a/n: hey! so uhm, this is my first time posting a hq fic and im really excited about it, i hope all of you enjoy it as much as i enjoy writing it, please excuse my grammar/vocabulary mistakes if you find any. feedback is appreciated. <3 thanks for reading once again)

masterlist

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi angst #iwaizumi x you #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #msby atsumu #atsumu x you #inarizaki #aoba johsai #oikawa tōru #oikawa #hq anime #hq fluff #haikyuu!!

[mycomfortblanket]

Could We?

Toph feels a body drop down onto the bed with her, which is what jostled her awake, but she doesn't open her eyes to acknowledge his presenece. She can hear his breathing, slow and deep and considering the fact that it's Tuesday and before noon, she can accurately assume it's Aang.

"I think I'm going to break up with Katara," he whispers out to her.

"Is that really why you came in here so fucking early and woke me up? To tell me some gossip?" she mumbles out against her pillow. He doesn't say anything else but rather lets out a deep breath.

She is just edging the cliff of sleep when he speaks up again, "Do you think it would be a mistake for me to do that?"

Toph lifts a shoulder in a lazy way, "I don't know, Twinkletoes," her voice thick with sleep, "Are you happy with her? You guys seem to be the picture perfect couple."

"Exactly! That's the thing. I don't want to be the picture perfect couple. I want to fight, I want to get into arguements and disagree on stuff, I don't want everything to be perfect. It just all feels faked and forced," he waves his arms around in exasperation, shaking the bed slightly.

Realizing she isn't going to be able to go back to sleep, she rolls over onto her back and rests her hands on her stomach. "Okay, I thought fighting came with every relationship. I f you don't want it to be faked and forced, then what do you want?"

Aang doesn't answer for a moment, trying to think as to what he does want in his relationship, "I want it to be fun. I want her to be my best friend and then my girlfriend second, you know?"

"No, I don't know. Haven't exactly been flourishing in the dating department. Why don't you just talk to her about this?"

"I don't know," he grumbles. They're both silent, the only sound is their breathing.

"What's your sex life like?" she asks randomly.

Aang sits straight up and turns his head to look at her, "What?!" he yells.

Trying to hold back a snicker, Toph sits up as well and leans her back against the wall, "I said, 'What's your sex life like?' Is it good? How often do you guys do it?"

"I don't think that really pertains to the conversation, Toph!"

"Oh, it really does, Twinkletoes. A lot, actually. So, what's it like? Is it any good? How often do you do it?"

Aang is quiet for a moment, "It's okay and we do it maybe like... a few times a month," he mumbles. Toph can't hold back a laugh and he shoots her a glare, "Oh, and yours is just so much better?"

"Actually, yes. I may not be flourishing in the relationship department, but I definitely know my way around a bedroom," she says through a laugh and Aang just buries his face in his hands. "Since you woke me up, you get to make me breakfast," she says, getting up from the bed.

"Ahhh, Toph!" Aang throws a hand up to cover his eyes.

Toph quirks an eyebrow at him but then remembers that she is only wearing a bralette and panties. Waving a hand at him, "Ehh, it's fine. Same as a swimsuit."

"My Spirits, no it's not," Aang mutters to himself.

-----

Toph stabs at her eggs and Aang sits across from her sucking down some kind of smoothing and making loud slurping noises, "So, what do you think? Should I break up with her?"

"Urgh, we're back to this?" Toph mumbles, her tiredness still not having fully left her. "Look, it really sounds like you've already made up your mind about it. You're obviously not happy in the relationship, so might as well cut that shit off."

Aang casts his eyes down and slurps loudly from his drink again while thinking over what she said. A replay of this morning's conversation comes to his mind, "What's you sex life like?" he asks.

The fork hovers just in front of her open mouth and stays there for a second while she digests the fact that he actually asked that. Laying the fork down, she lifts an eyebrow up at him, "What?" confused disbelief lacing the word.

He shrugs and draws small circles on the table with his finger, "Well, I was just thinking. You know- well kinda know- about mine. So, what's yours like? Maybe I could compare the two, see if I'm doing something wrong or maybe like-"

"Stop," Toph cuts off his rambling. "What do you want to know? And ask quickly before I change my mind."

Aang immediately sits up straighter but draws a complete blank at what to ask, "Ah, shit. Okay. I didn't really think you'd agree. Okay, give me a second." Toph just stares blankly in his direction while sipping from her straw. "Okay, okay. What's it like?"

Cocking her head to the side, Toph lets out a groan. "No, too vague. Ask specific questions so I can give you actual answers."

"Well! I don't know, what am I supposed to ask?! How loud are you or if you prefer to be on top?"

"I don't think I'm loud, but I definitely can be. As for being on top or bottom, you'll have to be more specific? I prefer to ride, so yes to that part of being on top, but I am definitely a bottom. Meaning, I'm a submissive sexual person. Next question, go," she answers with no hesitation and goes back to sipping on her orange juice and staring blankly at him.

"Wow. Uh, okay. Wasn't expecting that," he mumbles awkwardly and sips his drink. He thinks for a moment, and finally asks, "How do you convey to someone that you want to have... not regular sex?"

"What?"

"Like... how do I tell Katara that I want to have sex differently?"

"What, you mean like rough sex? You guys don't have rough sex?" Aang doesn't say anything, just rolls the straw between his fingers, "What, do you do missionary every time?" Again, he doesn't say anything. Raising her eyebrows, she brushes off some crumbs on her hands, "How often do you guys have sex? Like exact number."

"I dunno," he mumbles, "Maybe like... twice a month?"

"You guys have sex twice a month?!" Toph says loudly.

"I told you that!"

"No," she said, shaking her head at him, showing her disappointment in him. "You said a few times a month, which could mean once a week or whatever." She hears a think on the table and assumes he dropped his head onto it. Toph considers him for a minute, "Do you love her?"

He doesn't answer right away, which is an answer enough, but he says, "I feel like it's a little early to say if I love her or not."

Rolling her eyes, Toph leans forward and rests her elbows on the table, "Yeah, but the way you paused says a lot, too." The waitress comes over and drops off their check without even looking at them and takes Toph's plate away. "Alright, I'm going to say something and I don't want you to get upset with me, okay?" When he doesn't say anything, she continues, "I do think you should break up with her. Not because I don't like having girl talks with you, because believe me, it's great. But, you paused on admitting that you loved her, your sex life is shit, and you even said you weren't happy."

"I never said I wasn't happy," he grumbles.

"You never said you were and either way, my point stands. You guys have been together for six months and you don't even feel a little sliver of love for her?" She holds her fingers up so that her index finger and thumb are almost touching to emphasize her point.

Aang starts to say something, but she cuts him off, "You also want to fight and she obviously doesn't. No offense, but I think you're just wanting someone to tell you it's okay that you break up with her, and it is."

-----

A week or two later, she feels Aang drop onto her bed again, jostling her awake. Pulling her pillow over her head, she groans, "What the fuck do you want, Twinkles?"

"I broke up with her," he says as he releases a deep breath.

"Great. I feel like this is a conversation that could wait a few hours," her voice muffled by the pillow.

"Come on, Toph. I need your help."

"Bitch, my help? You already broke up with her, the fuck do you need me for?"

"You're going to help me with my sex life!"

"The fuck I'm helping you with that. Now, go away, it's too early to be awake," she kicks at him, pushing him out of the bed. The hell did he mean 'help him with his sex life'? He was helping himself by getting out of that relationship to begin with, the rest he could figure out on his own.

"It's 11:30," he says, standing up. He smacks her blanket covered ass, hoping to get her out of the bed but she just swings an arm and tries to hit him.

"Get out, Twinkletoes!"

A few hours later, when she finally walks out of her bedroom in a long tshirt and her underwear, Aang greets her from the couch. She can hear some gory tv show going on as she passes through the living room and into the kitchen.

When she comes back with a bowl of Apple Jacks, she sits cross legged on the couch next to him and listens to the show knowing that he's going to want to talk. As expected, he turns off the tv and turns to her, "So, I broke up with her."

"Yeah, you said that," she says through a mouthful of cereal.

"Yeah... it actually went a lot better than I thought it would have. She cried, but..." he trails.

"She cried? Fuck, what did you say to her?" from the passive way Aang was talking about breaking up with her the other day, she assumed that Katara was also starting to pick up on the fact that something was wrong with their relationship.

"Why wouldn't she cry? We dated for six months." Toph shrugged and continued to eat her cereal. They sit in silence for a moment, the only sound is the clink of her spoon against the bowl and her chewing.

"What were you saying about me helping with your sex life? What exactly did you mean by that?" she points her spoon at him.

"You have a lot of sex, I hear it almost weekly," he says in a slightly annoyed tone. Toph had warned him against choosing the apartment that had the bedrooms sharing a wall but he insisted because the kitchen has a nice view of the park, as if it matters. "So you must have some pointer."

Rolling her eyes, she stands up from the couch and takes her bowl to the sink and rinises it out. For what he is asking of her, he could be a little more sensittive with how he words things. "Pointers?" she asks from the sink.

"Yeah. Like tricks or something."

"Aang, honey. I can't give you those kind of pointers unless we're having sex and I can tell where you're fucking up," she says and plops down next to him on the couch.

"True," and from that word alone, she can tell where his mind is going.

Shaking her head, she starts to lean away from him, "No. Nuh uh. No-" she lifts her hands up as if she were to push him off of her at that exact moment. She is getting massive Emma Stone from Easy A vibes at the moment.

"Come on, Toph! Just think about it!"

"No, Aang! No, the fact that you even think that would work-"

"Oh, whatever, Toph! You know it would. You're the least commitall person in the world and you even said that I would need a hands on approach to know where I'm fucking up."

Toph jumps up from the couch and points at him, "You've lost your mind. You're obviously in shock from that breakup. It must've fucked you up more than we realzied."

Aang stands up and grabs the finger that is pointed at him, "Dude! THink about it! We would be helping each other out!" Now Toph is pretty sure that's an actual line in Easy A.

"I really don't see how teaching you how to properly have sex would benefit me. Just do what I do and go pick someone up at the bar!"

Completely ignoring her resolution to the problem, he continues, "You'd be getting to have sex and not faking it since you'd be my guide," she is just about to interject that she does not fake it. "Trust me, I've heard you enough times to tell when you're faking it."

Toph pulls her hand away from him and crosses her arms over her chest and looks away. "And you don't have to keep doing the whole finding someone at the bar, somehow getting them back here, and then hoping they don't steal anything when they leave in the morning!"

He couldn't really think that this would work. Even though she hated the whole 'finding someone at the bar' part, his plan is ridiculous, no matter how appealing the prospect of sex sounded.

Shaking her head, she says, "And what makes you think it would work, you and me having sex? What makes you think you wouldn't catch feelings or someone catching us in the act or some other awful thing."

"I like how you said that as if I would be the only one that caught feeling," she raises an eyebrow at him. "Okay, whatever. I wouldn't catch feelings because, I don't think of you like that now and it would just be sex for educational purposes, no kissing or anything. As for someone catching us, we'll just start locking the front door."

He was really finding reasons to pave over her reasons, "I swear to all the Spirits, this is not going to work," she shakes her head again, her arms still crossed at her chest.

"But...?" he asks, his voice getting a little hopeful. He begins to bounce on the balls of his feet while waiting for her next response.

"But, I haven't gotten laid in a while, so why not."

Read this on Archive of Our Own

#taang #taang fluff #taang smut #start of smut anyways #toph beifong #toph #aang #avatar aang #atla #avatar the last airbender #toph x aang #aang x toph

[adenei]

Ch. 2 How to Win a Witch in 10 Days

AO3 | FFN

James rolls out of bed after the third snooze of his alarm clock. He knows exactly how long he can wait until he has to get out of bed so he won’t be late for work. Sometimes he misses living with Sirius and Remus, who used to help make sure he was up and at ‘em on time.

Stretching, James releases a groan as he goes to the bathroom and turns the water on for a shower. At least I’m not competing for hot water anymore. He steps into the scalding hot spray. He’s barely been living on his own for a month, and has to admit the perks certainly outweigh the drawbacks. Besides, they still work together for Alastor’s Ads, so it’s not like they never see each other.

After a quick lather and rinse, James steps out and towels off. He figures he has a good ten minutes to floo to the office. He’s pulling clothes out of his closet when Remus’s Patronus bursts through the window.

Get to the office. Now.

“Well, that doesn’t sound foreboding or anything,” he mutters to himself.

He quickly dresses and grabs his bag before heading to the fireplace. He’ll have to take a mid-morning break to get a bite to eat since the wolf interrupted his usual routine. Tossing the powder into the hearth, he steps in and transports himself to the office.

Sirius and Remus are waiting for him when he arrives, with looks of concern donning their faces.

“What’s got your wands in a twist this morning?” James assumes it’s not dire, and that Remus only sent the Patronus as a stern reminder for timeliness.

“It’s the Zabini Jewels pitch,” Sirius responds.

The name raises the hairs on the back of James’s neck.

“What about it?” he plays it cool.

The three men begin walking to James’s office, where Remus shuts the door after they all pile in.

“Well, the good news is that Moody liked your pitch,” Remus states, clearly easing James in as he begins.

Alastor Moody is the owner of Alastor’s Ads. After a mission with the Aurors put him out of commission, Moody opened an advertising business to do something with his settlement claim. He knew how corrupt the advertising business can be, so he set out to make the industry a little more honest, consequently weeding out the shadier businesses in the process. In the ten years since the company opened, it’s risen to the top spot of marketing in Magical England.

James’s position typically consists of wooing clients from magical games and sports and the food and spirits industry, but he’s recently begun dabbling in businesses outside his forte. Zabini’s is an up and coming jewelry shop with a lot of money backing its name. James submitted the proposal to Moody earlier that week, hoping to hear whether he would be the one to move forward with the pitch.

“Why do I sense there’s a but…” James trails off.

“Well…” Remus grimaces.

“Oh, come off it! If you’re not going to tell him, then I will!” Sirius interjects. “Moody’s given the pitch to my cousins!”

“No!” James bangs his fist on his desk, causing some of the hot young interns who are standing by the water cooler to jump and turn around.

James relaxes enough to flash a charming smile their way as he turns back to his best friends. “That was my proposal! I should be the one who meets with Zabini!”

“We know. But Moody said something about women ‘knowing and understanding’ the business more,” Remus attempts to calm James.

“That’s bullshit! Maybe they’re the ones who receive the jewelry, but blokes are the ones who buy it!”

“I know, mate.” Sirius throws his hands in the air, indicating he’s not the one James needs to argue with.

James is pissed. He’s worked too hard on this proposal for Moody to give the pitch to someone else. I’m not going down without a fight.

“Where are they?”

“They already left for a meeting at Witch Weekly.”

“Well, when are they meeting with Moody?”

“At Abbott's tonight,” Sirius answers automatically. Remus shoots him a look.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

James looks down at his desk. Memos are piling up from existing clients, but he can’t be arsed to worry about those right now. He needs to sign Zabini. It will be the breakthrough he needs to stand on his own in the business, and a way to finally prove to himself that he doesn't need to rely on his parent’s wealth.

A look of determination crosses his face. “I’m going to crash their meeting and sell my pitch.”

Sirius holds up his hand for a high five as Remus winces. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, James.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not going down without a fight.”

James sits at a small cocktail table, sipping on a firewhisky at Abbott’s, a swanky magical speakeasy tucked away in the heart of Muggle London. The walls are painted an elegant navy blue that stands in stark contrast with the white marble floor, giving off an air of class and wealth that James has always refused to engage in. Gold trim lines the backlit shelves that house bottles upon bottles of expensive alcohol for the bar’s many eager patrons.

Business starts to pick up as the night drones on, and James can’t help but notice how many beautiful women are out on this fine Thursday night. If he didn’t have a pitch to snag, he might be on the prowl, looking for a good time. But he’s already limiting himself to one drink so he can keep his mind clear, but that’s not to say the alcohol isn’t tempting.

“Potter, what are you doing here?” Moody’s gruff voice can be heard from across the room.

James immediately stands up on his boss’s arrival. Ordinarily, he’d hold out his hand in greeting, but Moody’s always been a suspicious man, so he forgoes the gesture.

“I heard you accepted my proposal for Zabini’s Jewels.”

“Yes, and it’s my intention to give the pitch to Narcissa and Andromeda.”

“Why, sir?” James asks. He’s about to continue when another voice juts in.

“Why what?” Andromeda asks.

As if on cue, the Black sisters appear.

“What’s he doing here?” Narcissa quickly follows.

“It’d only be fair if the person who submitted the proposal has a hand in acquiring the pitch,” James says as suavely as he can, ignoring the ladies’ interjection.

“Ha!” Andromeda scoffs, “James couldn’t possibly know enough about what women like to know how to sell jewels.”

“Yes, I don’t think he’s ever had a proper girlfriend to buy jewelry for,” Narcissa adds with a smirk.

“Ah, but there’s the catch. You may think it’s all about what women want. But does a man consult his girl when he’s out to buy her a ring?” James doesn’t give either woman a chance to respond before he answers for them. “Exactly. You’re not just looking at it from the angle of ‘what a woman wants.’ One has to consider the man who’s shopping for his girl, and that is where I come in.”

Moody is listening raptly to James’s argument, which seems like a good sign. James notices Andromeda and Narcissa share a nervous glance, and he knows his ideas are being received better than the women assumed.

“Potter brings up a good point,” Moody says. “Every other advertising company always focuses on the woman, but this has potential.”

“Can’t you see it now? We’d include the women in the slogan, of course: ‘Zabini’s Jewels, where dreams come true.’” James lifts his hands to outline an imaginary sign that bears his ideas.

“Please, you’ve never been in a relationship long enough to even contemplate any of that!” Narcissa smacks her hand on the table in annoyance. “How do you know what it’s like shopping as a man in love? You’d be an imposter!”

“Am I really an imposter if I’m simply waiting for the right woman to come along?” James raises his eyebrows to match the smooth sound of his voice.

“Says the guy who’s only rival for the one-night stand trophy is Sirius,” Andromeda says.

To be honest, that jab hurts. For years, James has had the image of ‘womanizer’ placed on his head, even since his Hogwarts days. Sure, he’s a flirt, but he’s definitely not the type of bloke to bring home a different woman every night.

“That’s not entirely true and you know it. I have fun, but not that much fun.”

“Prove it, then,” Narcissa crosses her arms in front of her chest in indignation.

“How?”

“Prove you’re capable of a serious relationship. That you can win a witch over and make her fall in love with you. Unless you don’t think you can handle anything more than taking a woman to bed,” Andromeda goads.

James is never one to back down from a challenge, but he worries the girls are doing this to throw him off his agenda. “I would gladly accept if this had anything to do with the Zabini pitch, but—”

“That’s an interesting offer,” Moody’s gruff voice interjects. All three look at him. “If you’re this cutthroat about winning a jewelry pitch, let’s have some fun with it. We’ve been invited to attend a gala that Zabini is hosting a week from Saturday. Find a woman and bring her as your date. If you can make her fall in love with you, you get the pitch. If you fail, the ladies win.”

“But how will you know he’s not paying the girl to fake it?” Narcissa pouts.

“I always know the truth,” Moody says. His glass eye is twitching in all directions as he stares at James with his good one.

Now, this is an interesting turn of events. James contemplates what Moody’s said. There has to be an easier way to shed the girls off his client, but his mind is coming up empty.

You did say you’d do anything earlier, didn’t you?

Yeah, he supposes he did.

“Alright, deal.”

“But we get to pick your lucky lady!” Andromeda interjects.

“What? No! I didn’t agree to that.”

“Oh, come on, it has to be someone completely neutral. We can’t have you calling up a friend and faking it, now can we?” Narcissa reasons.

Ugh, fuck them.

“I’ll allow it,” Moody says, as the girls begin scanning the room.

“Hmm, Cissy, who should we choose?”

“I don’t know, Andie, there are so many people here tonight. It’s bound to be tough. What about that one over there in the neon yellow dress with the black platform shoes?”

James groans. This is going to be a disaster.

“Or the overly eager woman by the bar in the too-tight green dress, downing her third martini of the night.” Andromeda smirks.

“Come on, ladies, let’s try and be fair here.” James makes the request, even though he’s not convinced they’ll listen.

“What about—” Narcissa begins to point out another woman, whom James is sure would never work, when Andromeda cuts her off.

“I’ve found her.”

Narcissa turns her head on a swivel, looking around with increased interest. “Who?”

“There, on the other end of the bar. Long auburn hair in the little black dress. She’s sipping on a cosmo.”

No fucking way.

James follows Andromeda’s eyeline until it falls on a very gorgeous, very familiar face. Lily Evans. His former Gryffindor schoolmate and long-time crush.

At first, James’s mind is screaming an adamant NO. That ship sailed during seventh year when he finally gave up his pursuit of Lily and settled with sixth year Hufflepuff Bridgette Carmicheal instead. It wasn’t until the end of term that he overheard Lily insisting that whatever feelings she thought she might have for him were gone.

‘He chose Bridgette, Marls. I strung him along for too long, and I lost my chance. I’m over it.’

Those words still sting as they hover in the back of his mind. James recalls breaking up with Bridgette within the week, hopeful that it wasn’t too late. But then Bridgette had taken the break-up horribly, and he knew going for Lily the next day wasn’t a good idea. Then graduation came and went, and he hasn’t seen her since.

Seeing her standing there now, his heart leaps into his throat. She’s just as beautiful as ever, and all those feelings he thinks he’s finally gotten over are back, like a tornado completely upending his life. This could be his chance—their chance—to finally make a go of things. The thoughts begin whirring in his mind of ways to win her over.

“Done.”

Before James realizes what he’s doing, he’s standing up, and his feet are carrying him over to where she’s sipping on her drink. She doesn’t see him coming.

“Evans,” he croons as he sidles up next to her.

Her body stiffens when she hears his voice. James hasn’t thought what her reaction might be upon seeing him for the first time in years. Well, it’s too late to back out now. I’ve got a pitch to win and a second shot with the girl of my dreams.

She turns around after a moment, her face impassive, but not unwelcoming.

“Potter.” She’s eyeing him up and down. “Long time, no see.”

“Yeah, since when? Graduation?”

“Something like that,” she shrugs nonchalantly.

“What brings you to Abbott’s?” James would rather know how often she comes here, but he keeps that question to himself.

“It’s been a long week, and I needed a night out. You?”

“Same.” James contemplates what’s made this week long, and is about to ask when Lily continues without prompting.

“Though I forget how stuffy this place can be,” Lily sighs, “Marlene and Alice convinced me to come, but I can’t say I’m having much success in tonight’s pursuits. And I’m starting to think they’ve ditched me. Though, I suppose all’s fair in love and war when you enter the dating game. Don’t you agree?”

Her comment almost throws James off as he looks down at the hand holding her cosmopolitan. He breathes a sigh of relief and thanks Merlin that there’s no ring on her finger. So, she’s looking for a good time tonight, is she? Well, I can certainly show her a good time—and then some—if she’ll let me.

“Couldn’t agree more,” he says in an attempt to continue engaging her in conversation.

She makes the effort to look around the room. Now is his chance to make a move.

“You hungry?”

Lily observes him carefully. James can tell she’s closed off and knows he needs to reassure her that it’s innocent, for now…

“C’mon, Evans, it’s just dinner. Catching up can’t hurt, can it?” He pauses for a moment before making the split-second decision to add, “I’ve missed you.”

It’s true. Standing here with Lily now, James wonders how he coped over the past three years. He thought he’s been managing just fine, but her presence brings back everything he’s so desperately missed about her. James doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until he sees her relax. Her eyebrows soften and the smallest smile plays at the corners of her lips.

She sets her almost empty glass down on the bar before sliding off her stool. “Well, Potter, how can I resist when you put it like that? Lead the way.”

James can’t help the grin that spreads on his face. He holds out his arm as Lily gingerly latches on. Her touch sends a tingle up his spine as they move toward the doors.

Before he forgets, James takes a quick glance back at Moody, Andromeda and Narcissa. He flashes a smirk that he hopes says ‘you’re going down’ before turning back to the beautiful woman on his arm. After ten years of pining, he’s finally got Lily Evans right where he’s always wanted her, and he’s determined not to ruin this second chance.

#jily fanfiction #jily fic #james x lily #jily #james potter #lily evans #magical au #inspired by How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days

[trillian-anders]

the assistant

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

warnings: violence, angst, fluff, smut && SPOILERS

word count: 6.8k

description: part 1 of 5. CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS, PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED THE FILM. you’ve been working for the thrombeys for four years now, the last three years of your service being a glorified babysitter to the most annoying, self-absorbed, dickhead hugh ransom drysdale.

You wanted to smack that dumb smirk off his stupid dumb face. 

Hugh Ransom Drysdale. The bane of your fucking existence. Standing there with that stupid fucking smirk on his face, he fucking loved this. Watching as you cleaned up his mess. A crying girl on his doorstep and you, his assistant (aka babysitter), trying to calm her down enough to get her to leave his house. This dumb contemporary floor to ceiling windowed, minimalist, empty souled house. The girl had been picked up at a bar last night. Charmed by his handsome face, the money he was careless to spend, the way he spoke to you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world. 

It was a fucking joke. A trick. You’ve seen it a million times and you’d be willing you bet that you’d see it a million more. 

The door blocked her view of him, your clear view of him from the side, sipping on a mug of coffee in his hands and fucking smirking. 

“He won't even see me?” You hated when they cried. Like each of them had this idea that they’d go home with Ransom Drysdale and fuck him so good that he’d tie them to his bed and never let them leave or something. 

You sighed heavily before replying, “Mr. Drysdale has business to attend to, he’s unavailable at the moment, but I can leave him a message if you’d like?” You did this maybe five or six times a week. In the early morning hours, after his sexual escapade and some rest, Ransom would wake early and leave for the gym. In that time you were supposed to ‘take out the trash’ as he described it. This morning, the girl left dazed and confused in the fog taking an uber back to her home, but returning an hour later trying to plead her case. It was giving you a migraine. 

The girl stepped back from the porch, shoes crunching against the gravel as she searched the windows for his face. “FUCK YOU RANSOM.” She shouted, flipping the bird into the air. The man hiding to your right, choked on his coffee in laughter as you watched the girl get back into her car and disappear from sight. 

“What's on the agenda today Ransom,” You shut the door quietly, turning to face him, “Because if I have to do that again tomorrow I’ll quit.” He scoffed in indignation. 

“You’re not gonna quit,” He drained the rest of his mug, “You can’t even leave the house long as you got that.” He gestured towards your leg. Sitting firmly on your right ankle was a house arrest bracelet. One meant for him, but carefully bribed into being put on your own leg. The stupid son of a bitch got away with murder, after the death of his late Grandfather’s housekeeper by his own hand and the attempted murder of the girl that got the entire Thrombey fortune, he stayed the lucky son of a bitch he had been his entire life. 

Evidence was mishandled, not enough proof. That whole, ‘beyond reasonable doubt’ thing. The rich asshole got fucking house arrest and court mandated therapy. Even after there were three fucking witnesses to him attempting to murder Marta Cabrera. 

Money oiled the gears of the justice system, letting the trust fund baby slip through without consequence. That’s where you come in. 

You worked for the Thrombey’s before. As a tutor to Meg when she began to fail her english class. For whatever reason, Lynda and Richard Drysdale liked you, assigned you a new task. Their sweet baby boy Hugh, called Ransom by everyone but the Help. You’ve worked for Ransom for three years now. The first year before the death of his Grandfather and Thrombey patriarch, and now two years after his death and wouldn’t you know it. Hugh Ransom Drysdale wrote a fucking bestseller. 

Everyone wanted an insight into this family. Harlan Thrombey always said there was so much of him in Ransom. He wasn’t lying. 

Ransom wrote the first of what you knew would be many new Thrombey family murder mystery novels. And he was reaping in the cash. He was two months away from his next big release. Something you’re sure would fly off the shelves just as quickly as the first. 

“Don’t worry,” He said, “I’ve got a deadline to meet.” His coffee mug abandoned by the front door for you to clean up, he left you to officially start your day. He retreated into the study he created for himself to crank out the last four chapters he needed for his book, maybe. 

Due to circumstances beyond your control, you were the one placed on house arrest. As long as no one was notified that Ransom left the perimeter of the house you were being paid well, and you being paid well meant your younger sister gets taken care of. You were able to send her money every month to help with the fact that she was staying with an estranged aunt. It hadn’t been easy once your mother died, but the Thrombey’s lighten the load so to say. 

That’s why you were washing Ransom’s sheets that reeked of sex, picking up and disposing of torn panties and tossing used condoms the fucking dick couldn’t be bothered enough to toss two more feet into the trash can in his on-suite. You’d invested in rubber gloves. 

On days that Ransom had to meet with his probation officer he would wear a dummy bracelet. It got him by and soon the fucker would be over and done with house arrest all together. You’d be able to move back home then. Hopefully. 

“Ransom, you ever gonna eat today?” You knocked on the open door of his study, bringing his attention from his computer to you, who held a bowl of pasta in your one hand. He sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. There were multicolored post-its surrounding his computer. Your mind made the connection with how similar it was to his Grandfather’s own workspace. You gently placed the bowl on his desk, turning to pour him a tumbler of whiskey from the small bar in the corner of the room. 

“I don’t know how the old bastard ever cranked out two books a year,” His neck cracked. “How is that even possible?” He took a large bite of the pasta, squinting at the screen. His eyes quickly shifted to yours, watching you set down the glass of whiskey in front of him. He grabbed your wrist. “Stay.” It was an order. “Sit.” You took your place in a chair across from him. 

“Harlan wrote every day,” You told him, “You write whenever you’re not off sticking your dick into anything that breathes.” He laughed at that. 

“Not everything that breathes,” He typed a few more words into the word document, “I haven’t fucked you yet.” Your core pulsed, he said yet. 

Audibly you scoffed, “I would never willingly fuck you Ransom.” You pulled your legs up onto the chair to make yourself comfortable. He smirked at that, eyes not leaving the computer screen. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” That stupid smirk. You hated that fucking smirk. So condescending. 

When you first met Ransom you were probably very much like the girls that you now pry out of his bed at 8 am. You had been tutoring Meg at the family home, sitting at the kitchen table going over Othello when he sauntered in, digging through the cabinets for snacks. You could feel Meg tense up next to you and that’s when he turned. He was so fucking pretty. Blue eyes, well kept hair, cashmere sweater, those broad fucking shoulders, and on his face, stretching that full bottom lip you wanted to tug between your teeth, was a smirk. 

That pulsing throb between your thighs soon was quickly forgotten as he opened his mouth and began to speak, “How’s it going Meg, trouble reading? Or do they not teach you how to read when you’re a liberal? Lord knows you guys never fucking understand anything anyway.” Meg snapped back at him, but you were stunned. You could tell he said that on purpose, knowing it would make her go off on the tangent he was now, finding a sick pleasure in it. That was the first time you’d seen the smirk. You’d lost count of how many times you’ve seen it since then. 

“I really hate you Ransom.” You sighed, sinking further into your chair. He had almost finished off the bowl of pasta by now, whiskey long since emptied. He thinks it’s funny, you hating him because he responds looking you in your eyes, maintaining his smirk, 

“I know you do baby.” He liked to do that. Call you pet names. Once he had even pretended you were his wife when you accidentally walked in on him and a girl he had been balls deep in, bent over the back of the couch. He fucking LOVED that one. The girl had cried, embarrassed, apologizing as she picked her bra up from the floor and slunk out the front door behind you. That was a while ago. Pre-Murder. You should have seen it then. How insane he actually was. 

Ransom was incredibly smart and was a quick thinker. It was part of the reason that he had gotten away with murder in the first place. You knew that. It showed in his novel. He would have you read chapters, give him your opinion, before writing and rewriting. Showing you again. He’d ask you if you could figure out who was the murderer, a sinister glint in his eyes, arms crossed, standing above you waiting. He could only be satisfied if you didn’t have a clue. 

It was a gift, you supposed, the ease in which he wrote to make every character a possible suspect in completely new and incredible scenarios. He had three books in various states of completion that he was chipping away at, the one he was currently working on seemingly better than the previous published. 

His Mother, the one who gave him the silver spoon and cursed him for having it his whole life, was suddenly proud of him. His Father, now divorced from his Mother, would come by weekly asking for money. Ransom loved that too. His Dad got nothing due to the prenup, leaving him penniless. The cushy job he had at Lynda’s real estate empire was gone, and now Dad was working at local agency scraping by on low commission. Last week his Father came to the door while Ransom was writing and muscled his way not too kindly past you into the house. 

“Ransom!” He called, finding his way into his son’s study. You quietly shut the door, returning to folding laundry. The door shut tightly behind him and sounds had been muffled. It’s only when their voices went from calm to a screaming match did the door wretch open and Ransom followed his Dad out, both red faced. 

“We’ve given you everything in your fucking life and you can’t even give one iota back.” Ransom opened the front door, gesturing to the porch. 

“Get the fuck out, and don’t come back.” His voice stern and commanding.

“Fuck you Ransom.” With that he was gone. The silence that had settled over the house was thick, Ransom’s hand still resting against the closed door before he took a breath and, without taking a glance in your direction, returned to his study. Closing the door. 

The echo of that argument sat in the house for the rest of the day, Ransom leaving soon after to find a body to lose himself in. If the murder trial did anything, it made Ransom into a bad boy and girls fucking loved it. He wasn’t, technically, guilty after all. 

You attempted to clear the bowl in front of him, but was stopped by his hand. His eyes never left the screen as he brought your hand to his lips, placing a kiss in your palm, before dragging your arm to his other shoulder, hugging himself with it awkwardly until you gave in and wrapped your other arm around him, holding him tightly for a moment. 

He was soft sometimes. His Mom never held him when he was a kid. He was left alone a lot while she was building her empire. Babysitters never stayed long, nannies came and went. Sometimes you truly felt bad for him, other times you remember that he was a dick and that he loved to play tricks and torment anyone and everyone that was supposed to take care of him, including you. The only difference was you weren’t able to leave. 

He let you go soon after that, letting you clean up the mess from dinner and stoke the fire place warming the house that always seemed too cold. As you stood by the fire, arms wrapped around yourself you could feel him behind you, coming to wrap his arms around your waist, leaning his head on your shoulder as you stared into the flames. There was a moment or two of silence as you both stood there. 

If this were any other situation, if Ransom loved you, if this was someone who loved you, if this someone cared enough to care about the things you care about, this would be kind of romantic. But it’s Ransom, and he didn’t care about anyone but himself, he definitely didn’t care about you, and he one hundred percent didn’t care about anything you care about. “I’m going out.” 

His arms left your waist and his chest left your back leaving you cold. “For fucks sake Ransom, I don’t feel like throwing out a girl tomorrow morning.” You turned to watch him throwing his coat on. He smirked. He fucking smirked. 

“I’ll give you a break and throw her out myself then.” And he was gone. 

Hours later you’re woken by the sound of Ransom coming home, sure enough he wasn’t alone. Soft giggles and a bang, he’s shoved her against the wall beside your room. There were muffled groans as you assumed she found her knees right there in the hallway. He got off on this shit, you knew. Often stopping somewhere outside your door to start his sexual escapades. Knowing you were mere feet away, like some half-assed exhibitionism. It wasn’t long after that the girl squealed and there was more muffled talking before they moved to his bedroom. To which you shared a wall. 

Your bedroom, before you were a live-in, housed a bunch of items you believed graced a teen boy’s bedroom walls at one point. And still, shoved in the corner, were playboy model cardboard cutouts, “They’re vintage, mint condition, and worth a lot.” Sure, Ransom, sure they are. Arcade games, framed patriots jerseys, a lacrosse set from his high school days. You were shoved in the middle of it all, a single bed shoved against the wall surrounded by what once was a room full of teenage boy memorabilia. A shrine to his youth. 

The headboard soon came knocking and hope for sleep was lost. The girl’s moans escalating to shrieks. Either he was as good as he says, or these girls really care about his ego. Either could be true when there’s more than one comma in your bank account. 

The kitchen was much quieter. A steady rocking still came from upstairs, but thankfully it was muffled by the floor. As you made a cup of tea you figured you would see if he had printed off a new chapter ready for you to read. You hope he wouldn’t have gone out without finishing it anyway. 

You were not sure why you cared to be honest. You had this love/hate for Ransom. He was an annoying prick who did something really fucking horrible, but he also made it very clear to everyone involved that you had nothing to do with it. There was a scary moment there, after his arrest, when you were brought to the station for interrogation. You hadn’t known he had even gotten up to any of these crimes. He kept you completely in the dark and he was sure to let his arresting officers know that. You hadn’t even seen him since the night Harlan died when he left the party stranding you at the estate. 

Money does crazy things to people. The threat of his steady income leaving was enough to push him to do something crazy. He was lucky enough that the recorded confession magically was erased. He was lucky for dirty cops. He was lucky that even though his mother despised his lifestyle she didn’t want him to go to prison. He was so lucky. Now with his first novel sitting highly on the bestseller list, he seemed even more lucky than he did before. 

His study was on the opposite side of the house from his bedroom, muffling the sounds enough for you to flip through the packet left on top of his keyboard. Three chapters away from completion you were following the detective through paces where things felt more confusing than ever, the clues were unclear and there was not much to go on, but the tension between the eldest son of the victim and his ex-wife were mounting and it was hard to believe that maybe this guy had nothing to do with it despite what was described as an ‘air-tight’ alibi. You read through the chapter twice, scribbling your thoughts in red pen along the margins. 

“What do you think?” You jumped in your chair, looking up to see Ransom in the doorway. 

“You scared the shit out of me,” Your hand still clutching your chest. He had a glass of water in his hand, chest bare, solid navy pajama pants slung low on his hips. His chest hair always got you, just a little bit. He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and pushed off the door jam to walk into the room, taking a seat in the chair you occupied hours ago. “It’s good,” you cleared your throat, “I’m not sure how much longer I can wait for you to finish to be honest.” He chuckled softly. 

“Let me see.” You handed him the packet and his eyes scanned the margins, reading your comments. They were mostly reactions, that’s what he liked. He wanted to know how you reacted to everything he put in front of you, did you like the romance, the tension, the lust he was trying to write between the ex-husband and wife? Or was it too distracting from the plot? Is the detective too unbelievable? He’s a character for sure. Can you figure out whodunnit yet?

“What are you doing out of bed?” You asked, spinning the chair side to side, waiting for him to put the packet down. 

“I told you I was going to kick her out.” He took another sip from his water. You scoffed, 

“And you couldn’t start doing this sooner?” A smile stretched his lips,

“I like how much it bothers you.” 

“It’s annoying,” you said, “Worst way to start my day.” He laughed. 

“That’s the only reason?” He asked, throwing the packet back on the desk, leaning back in his chair. Smirking. 

“You’re such an asshole, you know that?” You pushed back from the desk, moving to exit the room. He quickly grabbed your wrist, tugging you over to his side where he looked up at you, 

“If you wanna take their place, just let me know.” Your other hand came up to smack him on his shoulder, causing him to laugh as he released you, letting you take your exit. 

“Dick.” 

You found him the next morning at his desk, looking as though he had very little sleep. “Babe could you get me some coffee?” You yawned in the doorway, 

“Sure.” It didn’t take long before you were setting the cup in front of him. “Your therapist is coming by at one.” He nodded, not looking up from his computer. “I’ll come get you when it’s time for you to get ready.” 

He was focused. You weren’t sure where this focus came from. It was every once in a while that he would find this stroke of inspiration and write for a whole day straight. Hopefully he will be finished his book before schedule and be able to get ahead for the next one. 

Soon he was washed, dressed, and ready for the one person he dreads the most. He hated therapy sessions. There were only ten more he needed to do before the court mandate was over. Ten more weeks until you were able to get this lovely ankle bracelet off when you would hopefully be able to go back to the routine you had with him before. Where you’d sleep in your own shitty apartment and show up to work a 9 to 9 five days a week. 

After sessions he was always moody, quiet, and tended to need his favorite single malt restocked the next day. Not exactly in line with how he should be tending to whatever revelation the therapist has been streamlining him to, but that wasn’t any of your business. You could say though that during the last 42 weeks of sessions this refractory period was shortening to less and less time, maybe tonight you won't be peeling him off the floor of the study and dragging him up to his room drunk off his ass. 

While in the session you were trying not to listen in on, you were sunk heavily on the living room couch, drinking coffee and reading the latest chapter he had slapped into your hands before entering back into his study. The book was so close to being finished, the last two chapters leading you to the big reveal and aftermath. The climax was steady taking hold and you were more sure than ever that the eldest son had something to do with it. You didn’t know what he did, but it was something. 

He looked mad enough to kill as the Doctor left. Slamming the door, barely missing the Doctor’s jacket sleeve as he made his hasty retreat. Ransom stood seething for a moment by the front door, a chill running down your spine. He had murdered someone before, something you try to forget seeing as you are forced to spend so much time with him. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. It felt like an hour before he moved. 

“I’m going out.” The words spoken sternly as he stomped his way up the stairs like a petulant child, returning moments later, cleaned up, eyes blank, before grabbing his coat and slamming the door loud enough to make you jump. 

Aside from Ransom’s Mother never being around and aside from his Father’s string of extramarital affairs and aside from his Grandfather’s need to push him in every direction but close, you wish you could say that Ransom had a good childhood. But he didn’t. When he was little the kids picked on him for being rich, and when he was bigger they only became friends with him because he was rich. He was such a bully. At least, that’s what his Mother told you once drunk off chardonnay at his birthday dinner last year. 

Disappointment. 

That was a clear sentiment for the small family get together, and by small family get together you meant the dinner you cooked and Ransom looking like he’d rather be in prison than listen to his parents bicker over his Father’s new (Not so new seeing as he’d been caught kissing her by a PI before Harlan’s death) girlfriend. She was smart enough not to come. 

This night was looking a lot like that one. Ransom, after his parents left and you began to tidy up, began to scream at you. 

“What gave you the fucking right you dumb bitch?” He was spitting, face red as you cleared the dishes. “You’re only here for the money. The fucking money. How much is she paying you huh?” The bottle of expensive whiskey he had been drinking throughout the night was in his hand, swinging it around and taking pulls straight from the bottle. “Not enough obviously because you would have let me fuck you a long time ago.” 

Your face flushed red as your own anger began to rise. He continued, “Never, ever, fucking again will you allow my parents in this house, do you understand me?” His unoccupied hand grabbed your arm tight enough to bruise, turning you to face him. His eyes wild and unfocused. “I said do you understand me?” You not so gently wretched your arm from his. 

“Don’t touch me.” He always fucking did this. Blamed you for things you had no control over. Lynda approached you about a dinner for Ransom’s birthday. It was her name in your paystubs. You can’t say no. 

“How dare you-” He began, but was cut short.

“No Ransom. No.” Like scolding a fucking dog who put his paws on the table. You threw the bowl you currently had in your hands into the sink, turning to fully face him. “I am only here for the money and I am only here because your Mother pays me a lot to be here.” His jaw clenched. “But I’m also here because I’m the only fucking person who even remotely cares about your ungrateful prissy spoiled ass and if it wasn’t for me you’d be sitting in this fucking glass house, alone, with only your own self-righteous attitude to keep you company. So don’t you ever touch me like that again. Do you understand?” 

He loudly clunked the bottle onto the kitchen island, stumbling in your direction as you backed yourself into the sink. His trial had just concluded two weeks ago, Fran’s murder fresh on your mind and you wondered if you just made a terrible mistake. Over the course of this rant, the alcohol was sinking into his bloodstream, it turned his anger into a crippling depression. One that resulted in his hands softly grasping your shoulders, and tugging you into his body. His face found your neck and slowly started to grow damp with what you realized were his tears. 

Your heart broke a bit, too much empathy, even for this asshole. Your arms came to wrap around his shoulders, letting him cry it out. 

That was the first and only time you saw Ransom cry over anything. If he hadn’t been as drunk as he was you knew that moment would never have happened. The sweet little moment that made your heart ache was quickly gone the next morning when Ransom made you coffee and thought it would be hilarious that after you thanked him for being so sweet he joked that he poisoned it. You could still recall the cackles of laughter as you spit your coffee into the sink. 

That was the day he began writing his first novel. 

He came home alone tonight which was strange. And far earlier than normal. You usually were in bed, or holed up in his study by the time he arrived him after a night out. Staying out of his way as he drug a bubbly hopeful girl up to his bed to satisfy his own needs for the night. He found you tonight, sitting outside, watching Netflix on your tablet by the firepit you had decided to light, a hot cup of tea sitting on the end table next to you. Cozy and wrapped in a blanket. 

You could feel his eyes on you from the doorway. You tapped the screen, pausing your show and turned to look at him. His hair was slightly mussed, face flushed, and socked toes curling from the chill. He was looking at you strangely. 

“You’re home early.” You placed the tablet down on the end table, turning to face him. He nodded, crossing his arms and leaning against the door jam. 

“I just needed a drive.” There was a soft smile on his face, well that’s new. 

“Is everything okay?” He never tells you anything, but the sentiment matters. He looked to his feet, nodding. 

“I’m probably going to try to stay up and finish the book tonight.” He shifted himself back into the house, your voice calling out to him, 

“Come sit out here for a bit. It’s calming, just take a break from thinking for a minute.” He sighed and looked at you again, debating something in his head. 

“I need to be alone.” You tried anyway. He disappeared from sight. And that was that. 

The next day Ransom began acting even more strangely. The book was finished, the last two chapters handed wordlessly to you as he left for the gym on what you’re assuming was no sleep. That wasn’t the strange part. The strange part was when he returned three hours later bearing a box of donuts from your favorite bakery and two lattes, on his face was a smile. 

“What did you do?” You accused, “Did you poison this?” You gestured towards the latte he placed in your hand. 

“No.” He laughed, sliding the box of donuts to you. You stared at him skeptically before taking a sip. Tastes normal. 

“Are you sick?” Your wrist coming to lay across his forehead, temperature feels fine. 

“No.” He laughed again, pulling your wrist from his forehead and kissing your palm before opening the box of donuts, pulling a cinnamon sugar donut to his lips. “You just told me the other day how you missed these and I figured since I passed the shop on the way back it wouldn’t hurt to go pick some up.” It was suspicious. You continued to look at him skeptically. He sighed, placing the donut on the counter, grabbing the latte from your hand he took a large sip of it. “I didn’t fucking poison you Y/N.” 

Okay.

Okay. You examined the box of donuts, pulling out the bear claw that was begging to be eaten. Still warm. You moaned in delight as soon as the warm pastry hit your taste buds. You really had missed these. Opening your eyes, you saw Ransom staring blankly at you before his eyes shifted to the packet by your side. 

“All finished?” You swallowed and nodded, sliding the packet marked with red over to him and as he began to study your notes you tried to think about what could have possibly gotten him in such a good mood. The Doctor’s visit was odd enough. Yes he was angry when the Doctor left, but then just a drive? Not a blackout drunk, bringing two girls home to pleasure himself with and accidentally falling into a line or two of coke night, but a drive? 

Maybe therapy had been working? Maybe he had a breakthrough? He finished the novel. The eldest son had something to do with it, his airtight alibi just that, a cover for the crime having been committed at a different time than the coroner’s estimated time frame due to him freezing the body and allowing it to thaw in the house. 

You had asked Harlan how he came up with such incredible stories once. He said they just popped into his head fully formed, his brain moving faster than his fingers. He kept a little notebook with good ideas and would simmer in them as long as it took for a stroke of inspiration. The rest was just typing. 

He smirked at some of your comments, ‘what a fucking joke’ you wrote next to the eldest son’s monologue about being passed over, his whining, annoying, self centered crying about how life wasn’t fair. 

“What’s the smirk for?” You asked, removing the lid of your latte and dipping part of the bear claw in it. 

“The lack of sympathy for Greg.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. 

“He’s a fucking loser.” Ransom’s eyes met yours, “I bet you see a lot of yourself in him.” That made him laugh. 

“What? You don’t like spoiled rich men?” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. You rolled your eyes, taking another sip from the milky sweet latte you didn’t know would feel like your life’s blood right now. 

“I think you know the answer to that.” 

“I think you find me endearing.” Ransom smirked. Your neck flushed. 

“I find you annoying,” You admitted. “I only put up with you because of my paycheck.” He licked his lips.

“Sure,” He closed the packet, pushing it aside to take another bite of the donut, cinnamon sugar dusting his lips. “You put up with me because you’re secretly in love with me, but you know that I would never get with The Help.” This made you laugh. 

“If you want me to be the Help I’ll gladly call you Hugh if it means you leave me alone.” He placed his paper cup on the counter, circling around to you. 

“I like when you call me Hugh.” His hands came to rest on your upper arms, grinning. 

“You’re disgusting.” He laughed at the clear displeasure on your face, spinning your stool around to him, and you leaned back, creating some distance as he came to stand between your legs. 

“You don’t mean that do you baby?” His fingers toying with the ends of your hair. You could feel your nipples harden in excitement, body betraying you. A wet growing between your legs. 

“Ransom what are you doing?” You said in exasperation. You weren’t blind. Ransom was gorgeous. You’d maybe, possibly, gotten off to the thought of him once or twice or maybe more than that in the four years you’ve known him. But he was also a scumbag who fucks and then throws girls out hours later. His moods were hot and cold. He had major Mommy issues and he’s not technically guilty of murder, but he’s a fucking murderer. But also… he’s been going to therapy and after that fight on his birthday last year he’s never laid a hand on you in anger again, there’s been some arguments sure, but he’s mostly nice to you. Caring even. 

“Why don’t you love me Y/N?” His voice almost came out as a whine. He was playing with you. 

“Ransom stop.” You pushed him away gently. He was fucking smirking. 

“Usually there’s a ‘don’t’ in front of that.” Cocky bastard. 

“You’re the worst person I know. And I hate that fucking smirk.” You picked at your now cold bear claw, trying to turn from him. 

“Why don’t you wipe it off my face then?” Your eyes met his and you glared. 

“What’s gotten into you today? Maybe you should go out early. Find some girl to satisfy whatever you’re going through right now.” His hands met your hips, spinning your stool back around to face him. 

“What if I want you to satisfy whatever I’m going through right now.” His groin fit right up against your core and you could feel his throbbing heat between your legs. Fuck. 

“Don’t make this mistake Ransom.” You placed one hand gently on his chest, attempting (but not really) to push him back. His forehead coming to rest against yours. “You don’t want this.”

“This is the only thing I’ve ever really wanted.” His breath mingled with yours, sweet, cinnamon and coffee. 

“You’re not thinking straight.” His lips brushed against yours, tongue coming out to wet his lips, his eyes locked with yours. Why weren’t you pushing him away? Your breath hitched as his tongue accidentally grazed your bottom lip. 

“The only clarity I’ve ever had in my life has been when I’m with you.”

His lips pressed heavily against yours, pushing you back against your bedroom door as his hand came to tangle in your hair. He was all consuming, body hot and heavy against yours. Your core was thrumming with want, moisture pooling in the crotch of your yoga pants. His hips were rolling into yours and you could feel the hard length of him against your belly. His lips quickly moved across your jaw to your neck and you could hear yourself moaning softly as he licked, sucked, and nibbled on the sensitive skin below your ear. Your hands clenching the soft material of the t-shirt by his hips, dipping your fingers slowly into the waistband of his shorts. 

His lips parted from your neck, hand tilting your head back so he could look into your eyes before taking your mouth once more. His mouth moved down this time to the tops of your breasts, hands leaving to shift the thick wool cardigan off your shoulders and onto the floor before dropping the straps of your camisole and exposing them to the air, nipples already pebbled in excitement. 

You hadn’t dated in a while, unable to because of your paid house arrest and before that the way Ransom had worked you to the bone picking up after him. And the touch from someone else always felt better than your own. His hands felt huge on you, protecting. 

Your head met the door as he enveloped your right nipple in his mouth, rolling the sensitive bud on his tongue until he felt the left neglected, and switched, beginning to toy with your right nipple between his finger tips. Moans and heavy breaths were the only sounds in the hallway as Ransom made his way down your body, slipping your yoga pants and panties off your hips as he found his knees before you. 

“Ransom-” 

“Shhhhh,” He pressed his lips against your naval, working his way to your trembling core. His hand lifted your right thigh, draping it over his shoulder as his eyes focused in on your, what you knew must be soaking, wet pussy. His eyes met yours from his knees, your legs trembling with anticipation, eyes locked as his pink tongue came to meet your pussy for the first time, a shuddering breath being released from you urged him on further. 

His thick fingers spread your lips open, exposing your clit to his gentle assault. A building pleasure in your core as his tongue began to skillfully work, pulling moans from your mouth. How was he so good at this? Experimenting with different strokes, different pressure, finding what you like. 

“Just like that, oh my god.” He rolled his tongue against your clit, eyes finding yours once more, keeping pace. You could see the corner of his mouth pull up in a smirk as he began to work you up to climax. “You’re such a fucking asshole, I hate that fucking smirk.” Head hitting back against the door as he used his fingers to tease your opening. “Oh my god.” Your hips bucked against his face, causing him to use the arm currently wrapped around your thigh to splay open on your abdomen, holding your hips still. The wet noises and soft grunts from the man between your thighs only caused you to grow closer to your release. 

“You taste so fucking good baby,” moaned between your thighs. 

“Don’t fucking stop.” You scolded. So close. So fucking close. He obeyed, continuing his assault on your dripping pussy, fingers entering your tight channel to stroke against your sensitive walls. He buried his face further into your pussy, nose coming to rest in the soft curls there as he watched you come undone. Your moans escalating in volume as you felt your body tighten with pleasure, hips begging to buck against his face as he rode you through it. He continued to lick and suck on your clit until your hands found his head, pushing him away, legs shaking as you dropped against the door, knees coming to rest around his body. 

That fucking smirk, “How was that?” He asked, face glistening with your cum. 

“Fuck you Ransom.” And he fucking laughed the bastard. What a fucking dick. He brought his face back to yours, gently claiming your lips. The tang of your pussy ever present as you felt him consume you. Your heart was still racing as he picked you up from the floor, bringing you into his bedroom and ever so gently laying you down on the sheets you had just changed two hours ago. 

His eyes were shifting between yours, a strange expression on his face. 

“You can’t kick me out tomorrow Ransom,” Your breathing was heavy as he began to work at your neck, his hands going to remove his gym shorts. “I can’t leave.” He pressed his lips back to yours as you felt him rub the tip of his dick against your clit, your body shaking with over-stimulation. It felt so intimate. Before, his eyes on yours as he brought you over with his tongue and now as he slowly enters you, stretching your walls with his thick cock, eyes not breaking contact he sighs,

“I think you’re the only person I’ve ever loved.” 

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #knives out #chris evans

[gottlem]

‘let me go’ but like angsty lemyanka maybe if lemon is moving back to nyc from toronto 💔

here u go ! the most angsty thing i have ever written and will probably ever write. i havent proofread it bc its late, im tired and i got a bit carried away and ended up writing 1.7k words so.... yeah. hope u like it ! <3

“let me go”

Lemon and Priyanka were clearly in love. Everyone knew it, everyone could see. Deep down, they both knew that they were, but no matter how many times they ended up in eachothers beds, it just never came up. Because if it did, well, Lemon’s not too sure what would happen. But it would be a lot, maybe too much. So she decided to stick with friends with benefits, nothing more, and it worked. For a while. Until she didn’t know what counted as overstepping anymore and calling Priyanka her friend just felt like a lie, even though it wasn’t, not really. But the ‘not really’ part is what fucked her up. 

Lemon could only deal with so much. She had her walls, they were strong and tall and Priyanka was the only one who could get through, but they just didn’t feel like they were protecting her anymore. One day, she feared they would become a little too high, a little too unstable, and crush her. And she didn’t want Priyanka to have to deal with that. 

She had already made the decision to move back to New York before she even admitted it to herself. She tended to listen to her brain over her heart - you’re less likely to get hurt that way. Somehow, this time round she couldn't quite tell which part she was listening to, but before she knew it, she was on the phone to her friend Jan asking for a place to stay. 

Jan was more than happy, albeit a little concerned, for Lemon to live with her for a bit, claiming she could use the company and the help with rent. It was a win-win situation. Though, was Lemon winning? She wasn’t so sure, she was however very stubborn and once she had made her mind up, there was no going back. It would be nice to see her New York friends again, they hadn’t fallen out of touch but things are always harder when you’re so far apart. Besides, she needed a change of scenery, she missed walking the streets of the city that never sleeps. 

The real reason behind her decision was Priyanka. She didn’t tell anyone about it but Jan, knowing she would need at least some form of support once the train arrived. She just couldn’t bear to keep up with whatever their current situation was, but also she wasn’t sure she had the courage to talk about her real feelings, so the only option she could see was to just run away. They could keep in contact, a couple of texts and maybe a bi-weekly phone call, and Lemon could find some other girl to fall in love with and then she would be over her. 

She didn’t know how to be in love, and even if Priyanka could show her, she didn’t know if she was ready, if she was prepared. Because love was scary. Commitment, too. It’s not that Lemon was scared they would end up breaking up, she was scared that they would never break up. She was still young, and while some people long to find the love of their life early on, Lemon found herself staring at hers right in the face and it just felt too overwhelming. 

She had started hinting to Priyanka that she missed her New York friends about a month before she planned to be leaving. Priyanka would suggest a week’s visit, and Lemon would just shrug it off.  She just didn’t want it to come out of the blue when she finally told her that she'd be moving. And yet, all her hints didn’t stop Priyanka from being surprised. 

It was dark out, and the pair lay not so comfortably in Lemon’s bed. It was too hot but neither had the energy to do anything about it, so they stayed there in silence, Lemon slowly building up the courage to speak. 

“Hey, Pri?” She barely recognised her own voice, hating the crack that came out when she started speaking. Priyanka hummed in response, turning her head to face Lemon’s, eyes trained on the side of Lemon’s head as the yellow haired girl stared blankly at the ceiling. Eye contact would be too much, she didn’t want to see Priyanka’s face when she told her. 

“I’m moving back to New York.”

Silence. 

More silence.

Then, the shuffling of covers and creaks of floorboards as Priyanka grabbed her stuff and left. Somehow Lemon didn’t register any of it until the door had shut behind her. She closed her eyes and went to sleep.

The next day, Priyanka showed up at her door again, not too long after the sun rose. She looked tired, but Lemon said nothing because she probably looked the same.

“Sorry for just, leaving. I, uh, I was pissed off? I think?” Lemon’s jaw dropped.

“I’m sorry, you were pissed? At me? Priyanka, I get that I could have told you sooner but don’t pretend like telling you would have made me change my mind.”

“Wouldn’t it? Why are you moving anyway? When are you moving?”

“I miss my friends. I miss New York. I need a change, a get-away. I leave in two weeks”

“Jesus Christ,” Priyanka almost stomped past Lemon, sitting on the couch with an angry thud.  “You’re telling me, you move to New York in two weeks, because you miss your friends, and I am only just finding out now? That is bullshit, Lemon”

Of all of the reactions Lemon anticipated, this was not one of them. They never argued. They always poked fun, never too serious, always having a good time. But this was new. Lemon didn’t even know how to argue with Priyanka. She didn’t even know how she was supposed to react to hearing her full name, and the way she said it too. Lemon couldn’t quite place a finger on how Priyanka was feeling, not used to not being able to read her like an open book, and she fucking hated it. But if Pri wanted to argue, then they were going to argue. Lemon didn’t make this decision on whim, she needed to do this, she needed to move, she didn’t have a choice. 

“God, Priyanka, do I need to tell you everything? It’s not like I’m your fucking girlfriend!” She regretted saying it the second it came out of her mouth, no matter how true it was. They avoided the word ‘girlfriend’ like the plague, but apparently this was the line that needed to be crossed to have this discussion.

“No, you don’t need to tell me everything, but if you’re moving to New York? Yeah, maybe tell me. Maybe mention it before you have to leave in two weeks, for fucks sake, Lem”

She had stopped shouting, her voice sounding a bit more tired and defeated that angry. Things were complicated. Lemon thought running away would be the easiest option. And maybe she was right. Maybe the easiest option was still hard, but it was too late to change her mind now. The damage had been done, and now Priyanka knew that she would be getting on the train in two weeks time, and they didn’t know when they’d see eachother again after that.

They spent all day talking. Avoiding direct eye contact, getting goosebumps every time their hands accidentally touched. Unsaid ‘I love you’s floated around them, taunting them every time Lemon went over her excuse for moving. They hid behind sad smiles and even sadder eyes, but never managed to actually surface, not like they ever did anyways. 

They pretended like nothing happened the next day. Instead, they opted to make the most of the last week and a bit left they had together, refusing to mention the fact that time was slipping, or how much they would be lost without each other. Lemon spent her nights on the phone to Jan, planning logistics, but mostly trying not to cry about how she was leaving the woman who was quite possibly her soulmate in another country for however long without telling her how she feels.

Her final day in Toronto came round after what felt like a short eternity. She was only slightly ready. Her yellow suitcase rolled next to her and she drowned out the noise of the train station with her earphones on full volume. A coffee warmed her shaking hands as she waited for the train she was obnoxiously early for. Not long past before she felt someone sit down next to her and place a hand on her shoulder, startling her from the daze she had managed to force herself into.

Of fucking course it was Priyanka. And of course she was looking at Lemon with tears threatening to shed. Lemon placed her hand in Priyanka’s after taking out her earphones, and gave it a small squeeze.

“I don’t want you to go” Lemon wished she could kiss her and say she didn’t want to go either. But she couldn't because she would be lying. She wanted to go. She loved Priyanka, and Priyanka loved her. They both knew it, without it being said. But Lemon just wasn’t ready. 

“I know. I’ll miss you” Priyanka shook her head and tears began to fall down her cheeks, one by one then all at once. 

“God, Lem, what went wrong? Do I have to fucking beg you to stay or something? I don’t understand why you have to move all the way to New York, I don’t know what I’m even supposed to do without you here”

Lemon refused to cry. She absolutely refused. When she felt the back of her eyes stinging with tears, she simply shook her head and pushed them back. Not now. Not in front of Pri.

She took her other hand, and looked Priyanka in the eyes, inching in closer and closer. 

“Pri, I’m going, and it’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna be fine, and you’re gonna be fine, okay love? It’s time to just… let me go.”

Lemon released her hands and stood up, the action followed by Priyanka, who gave her a bone crushing hug, still crying. When she finally let go, she gave her a small kiss on the top of her head, and Lemon had to hold back her tears for the millionth time within the past five minutes. They looked at each other for just a moment, once again opting to not say anything, despite it being their final chance. Lemon gave a small nod, as if in response to the silence, before turning away and walking to her platform. She didn’t look behind her. And if she stopped holding back her waterfall of tears the second she faced the other way, she could hide that from Priyanka too.

#lemyanka #anon #lemon🍋 #lemongivesyoulife #priyanka love #im sorry its unresolved #normally i kinda hate angst bc im too messed up already for that shit #but i think now i have learned to love it #however if anyone maybe wants a pt2 #i will be happy to write #bc this is practically an entire fic #i got pretty carried away

[dontshootmespence]

Through It All

Part 29

Summary: Now married, Spencer & Y/N navigate the D/s lifestyle. How will their relationship change?

Words: 1,728

Warnings: Pegging, scratching, handjob.

A/N: The next entry for @cm-kinkbingo​ run by my beautiful girlfriend @heycasbutt​. This fulfills my pegging square.

After what feels like an eternity (but is actually only a couple of days), you settle on your babies’ names: Morgan Diana and Blake Xing. Charlotte’s new room is all set up and you’re able to get started on the nursery for the babies. Well, adding to it. The Winnie the Pooh theme is something you still love and want to stick with, but you need double the crib space and double the dresser space, so as the weeks go by you add to their wardrobes with the help of family and friends.

Between Spence’s teaching, your job, parenting a toddler and getting ready to bring in not one, but two newborns, life takes on a well- life all its own. Through it all, Spence manages to keep you grounded, not always through sex, though you’ve been more than willing to be ‘at his disposal’ amidst the craziness. Aside from sex, he picks your outfits out every day, even down to what makeup you wear. He plans your weekly dates, down to finding friends and family to babysit Charlotte to carefully choosing where you’ll go and what you���ll do. He insists that you spend five minutes a day cuddling in bed just so you have time to breath.

You wonder whether he’s been able to breathe.

How Charlotte’s more than two years old now is beyond you. The time has gone by in such a way that you’ve been climbing up a mountain and sliding down it simultaneously, but after she’s in bed one night, just a few short weeks before the twins are supposed to arrive, you ask him how he’s feeling.

“What?” Spencer asks, a little taken off guard.

Grasping his hand, you maneuver yourself so you’re sitting in his lap facing him. “You’ve been taking such good care of me. Are you okay?”

Spencer closes his eyes and leans forward pressing the most chaste of kisses on your lips. “I’m a little overwhelmed. Nervous as all hell about parenting three kids under the age of three in less than a month. But I’m just focusing all that energy on you.” His hand slides up the soft cotton tank you’re wearing to bed.

Coasting your fingertips along his torso and underneath his chin, you tip his head up so his gaze meets yours. “Do you need to, or want to let go for a night?”

He allows his resolve to slip away for a moment. “Yea,” he whispers, lips full below his hooded gaze. “I think I’d like that.”

Smiling, you trail your lips along the side of his neck and wash your tongue over his pulse point, relishing in the sign that escapes him. It’s so rare that you’re the one in control, and you do prefer it that way, but it makes these moments even more heady that usual in an entirely different way. “Remember a while back, when we talked about me pegging you?”

By the glint in his eye you can tell he remembers and he’s willing, but you ask anyway. “Be gentle with me,” he chuckles softly.

“Always. What’s our word?”

Your whisper is featherlight, as is his reply.

Watching in awe as his control slips into your hands, you instruct him to undress and get on all fours while you go digging for some toys. Months back you’d bought a smaller strap-on in the event you got to do this. You weren’t about to use the kind he’s used on you. That’s thicker and a little intimidating for someone who’s never done this before. Instead, you pull out a thinner, short strap-on and a bottle of lube, throwing both on the bed behind Spencer’s cute little ass. He’s trying to steady his breathing. He’s definitely nervous, but he stays where he is. It’s one of the few times in your relationships he’s more than willing to flip the script.

“Relax, Spence. I’ve done my research.”

He chuckles and starts to relax as you strip and crawl onto the mattress behind him. Slipping the strap-on around your waist, you smile to yourself. Wielding the power on occasion is pretty fun.

In preparation for whenever this moment came around, you’ve been keeping your nails short. You squirt some lube into your palm and slicken one finger specifically. Doing this with your hands first is not really ideal, but you’re not about to start him off with a strap-on.

“I’m gonna start with a couple fingers first. You tell me when you’re ready for more.”

He doesn’t respond out loud. He just nods his head, but you allow it, pressing the tip of your pointer finger against his ass. You motion slowly, adding lube when necessary and suddenly slip past the tight ring. “Oh.” Spencer says. “That’s, um, wow.”

“Good wow?”

“Good wow.”

Watching how he reacts, you move your finger back and forth, taking in how his breath heaves and his balls tighten in anticipation. As soft moans leave him, his front half folding down into the bed, you introduce your second finger and chuckle to yourself when his eyes widen. “Honestly, I wasn't sure I was going to like this,” he says, swallowing thickly. “But I do. I really do.”

As you continue to move, hooking your finger randomly to see what he likes and what he doesn’t, you keep him talking. When he’s talking, at least with you, he’s much more relaxed. You ask him what he feels, where he enjoys the pressure. The right side gets him more than the left and the deeper the better. “Do you think you’re ready for more? It’s okay if you aren’t,” you add quickly.

His face is flushed red. So rare for him in this capacity. You love it.

“Yea, I think I am.”

“Good boy.”

While you lube up the strap-on with one hand, you rake your fingers down his back and across his ass. Pinkish marks appear a second in the wake of your fingers and Spencer hisses when you scratch across his ass.

Just as before, you slowly press the tip of the strap on against him, but there isn’t as much resistance as before. Still, you make sure to take it slow, helping him to relax by bending over him to reach around and grab his cock, stroking softly until you’ve eased in. “How’s that feel, love?”

He swallows hard before he’s able to respond. “Full.”

You giggle because you can tell. Even the strap-on isn’t a part of you, you can feel it move as he tightens around it. “You okay if I move?”

“Yes,” he says assuredly.

With all the grace you can muster (which admittedly isn’t much), you begin to thrust and revel in the way he groans. Pivoting to the right, you feel him tremble. Underneath the strap-on, you can tell how wet you are. Even though physically there isn’t much stimulation, Spencer’s reactions leave your breaths heavy and your movements slightly erratic at best. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that underneath you, Spencer is huffing and groaning. His body is slick with sweat. His tongue keeps coming out to wash over his bottom lip. His eyes are fluttering closed.

For the first time in a long time, he’s letting go - and watching that happen - that’s what’s getting to you.

“Fuck, Y/N, I-”

“Shh,” you whisper. “I’ve got you.” As you move, your thrusts and rolls become slightly more practiced, allowing you to return to the gentle strokes you were giving his cock before. With each thrust, you stroke your hand down the length and him and rub circles on the head of his cock with your finger.

Spencer starts bucking into your hand, a string of expletives leaving his mouth as he begs you for release. But you don’t give it to him. Not yet. He wanted to lose himself for a bit so you’re going to make it happen. “Not yet, Spence. Almost. I promise.”

You start to lose control yourself, simultaneously wanting to watch him unravel and keep on a string for as long as possible. When you finally can’t take it anymore, you scratch your teeth along his back and coax him into letting go. “It’s okay, Spence. Come for me. Let go.”

With your permission, his eyes shoot open and his body takes a hold of itself like it barely has any connection to his brain. He thrusts down into your hand and back into you at the same time, groaning as he does so. Each one long and drawn out. It’s like every buck and wave of his lithe form is his body’s way of giving his mind permission to let go.

“Oh, fuck!” He grits his teeth as he explodes into your hand and onto his stomach.

Careful not to hurt him, you ease out and undo the ties around your waist so you can toss it aside until later. His shockwaves subside and you collapse at his side. “How’re you feeling, Sir?”

He’s still a little shaky, buck naked and face down in the sheets, but he smiles and pulls you to his side. “Good. Really good. I mean, wow. Didn’t expect to like it that much.”

“Me either.”

“Yea?”

“Yea, I mean I didn’t orgasm or anything but just watching you lose it and knowing I was the cause. Fuck, that was just as good.”

“Welcome to my world, babe.” He waits a moment, settling himself into the sheets. “Can we just pass out here? I’ll help you clean up in the morning.”

“Yea,” you laugh, pulling at the thin sheet sitting on top of the fitted sheet. “Might wanna toss this to the side though. Don’t wanna get crusty.”

Spencer laughs out loud. “Sex is gross.”

“Yea it is.”

“Good thing it’s fun.”

---

In the following days, you catch up with Ai and Kyle; she tells you that none of her shirts fit anymore so she’s flashing midriff like a 90s popstar. And she’s in a hell of a lot of pain considering her center of gravity is royally fucked with two full grown babies walking around in there. But otherwise she’s okay.

“I just can’t wait to get these babies out of me,” she laughs. “I want to meet them. I want you to meet them. I’m just-

“Ai, you okay?”

“My water just broke.”

“Spence, it’s baby time!”

@heycasbutt @ultrarebelheart @katherineisagubler @proud-slytherin-ghost @randomwriter23 @fandom-queen67 @sixx-sic-sixx @xqueenofthecraziesx @aofay02 @groovyreid @criesinreid @jdougl-love @xreider @cringeemospntrashassbutt @prettyboyeffect @prettyboyreid @themanip @spencerreidsthings @augustgraceful @whollytaciturn @prisonreid @factualfic @jasmine-negron @snitchthewitch @ellabobella051419 @crazyforsstuff @kaatelyyynn​ @jane-dough @dreatine @bitter-post-millennial @adlerorzel-blog @hallieedrew @psychedelephantt @krisymccall996 @4ueijos @mclaujac @ray-likes-starwars @nurseemilyblog @slightlyvicked @she4567 @guesswhosback129 @princessdolan @happycreatorfangirl @fallwhisper @nyemadowell @sammy-jo1977 @sin-bin-and-tragedies @imsuperawkward @ahhahahaheehee @crispygiantsaladgarden @reputay-swift @pizzarollsfordayz @andiebeaword @timey-wimey-lovi @garbagecanfics @friedparadisetale @dereksbetaa @idontevenknow2 @holyfishloverfarm @nohemi2500 @typeshitbih @sadgirlhan @kmc217 @bigbuttsowhatuniverse @charmedfandomgal @im--blushing @dangerouspersonllamabagel @fichoe21 @yes-sir-hotchner @thefandomallrounder @mrsenos08 @walkerchick007 @letsdisneythings @winchesterqueenie @specialagentleigh @spn-wheresthepie @haileymew @bitchyoulied @geniusgub @urdicksmol @6lack6erry @slutlanna976 @downondilaudid​ @baileysb1tch @la-vie-en-amour1​ @letsdoit-tomorrow @eideticprettyboydrreid​ @lazynoodledragon​ @shybaby231 @aimzonicles97​ @grace-superpowers​ @softestlavender​ @ssa-dr-ladylock​ @drprettyboy​ @patricks-fabulous-face​ @tearosaria​ @shxdowofdarkness​ @marvels-gurl​ @gublergirls​

#through it all #the most natural thing in the world #dontshootmespence #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut

[hopelikethemoon]

Settling (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Settling  Rating: PG-13 Length: 2300 Warnings: Pinning  Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Set a few weeks before Old Parr in May 1989.  Summary: Reader joins Javier and Steve at the bar.

Taglist:  @grapemama​​  @seawhisperer​​ @huliabitch​​ @pedropascalito​​ @rogrsnbarnes​​ @thewallpapergoesorido​​ @twomoonstwosuns​​ @gooddaykate​​ @livasaurasrex​​ @ham4arrow​​ @hiscyarika​​ @plexflexico​​ @readsalot73​​ @hdlynn​​ @lokiaddicted​​ @randomness501​​ @fioccodineveautunnale​​  @roxypeanut​​ @just-add-butter​​ @snivellusim​ @amarvelousmandalorian​​ @lukesrighthand​ @historynerd04​ @mrsparknuts​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @exrebelshocktrooper​ @awesomefandomsunited​ @ah-callie​ @swhiskeys​ @lady-tano​ @beskar-droids​ @space-floozy @cable-kenobi​ @longitud-de-onda​ @cool-ultra-nerd​ @himbopoes​ @findhimfives​ @pedrosdoll​ @seeking-a-great--perhaps​ @frietiemeloen​ @arrowswithwifi​ @random066​ @uncomicalhumour​ @heather-lynn​ @domino-oh-damn​ @cyarikaaa​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage (if I forget to tag you, I’m sorry)

Tonight was supposed to be a date night with Lance. You had actually been looking forward to it. He was a decent cook and you always had a good time at his place. But by the time you got dressed up, you weren’t in the mood. It was the tailend of a workweek from hell and frankly, you just wanted to wind down with Steve and Javier. 

Lance didn’t even seem upset with you for canceling. He really was a great guy. So understanding. He’d make a great boyfriend for someone, someday. Shit. 

“Look at you,” Steve remarked as you came to a halt beside their table. “Is this how you dress when you’re not stuck with us?”

You rolled your eyes, “You’ve seen me in a dress before, asshole.” You set your gaze on Javier then, waving your hand at him, “Scoot.”

He complied, scooting towards the wall to give you space to sit down on the booth beside him. “Didn’t think we’d see you tonight.” 

“You weren’t supposed to,” You shrugged, drumming your fingers over the top of the table. “I was worried you’d be gone before I got here.” It was said to both of them, but your eyes lingered on Javier longer than necessary. 

“The night is young.” Javier said with a smirk as he knocked back a shot of whiskey. 

“Looks like I need to catch up.” You gestured to the whiskey, “I’ll be back.” You said as you slid out of the booth and headed to order drinks. 

You heard Steve say something about getting refills, before he followed after you, “Did Lance cancel on you?” He questioned as he leaned against the bar beside you. 

“I canceled on him.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” You shrugged your shoulders, tilting your head to look at him. “I just really wasn’t up for it.” 

“You could’ve invited him out for drinks with us.” Steve suggested. 

“Nah,” You shook your head. “We both know how Javi would’ve reacted to that. And I’m really not looking to sit through another pointed rant about the CIA. Even if I agree with him.” 

“Are you and Lance okay?” He questioned, rubbing at the back of his neck as he turned towards you. 

You chewed on the inside of your bottom lip. “We’re not not okay.” You hung your head. “I don’t know, Steve. Sometimes I feel like I could really love him. You know? I have this whole list of reasons why I should—“

“You have a list?” Steve shook his head as he chuckled. “Poor guy.” 

“Poor guy is right,” You made a face. “It’s been almost a year and I think… He’s a lot more serious about this than I am.” You glanced back over your shoulder at Javier who was still nursing a bottle of beer. You’d rather be here than over at Lance’s. And you should’ve felt guilty about that. “Can we not talk about this at the table? I don’t wanna hear it from Javier.”

“Of course.” Steve gave your arm a pat. “For what it’s worth, if you have a list of reasons for why you should love someone, do you really love them?”

You slowly shook your head, “Probably not. But he’s a good guy. We always have fun together. We work… well enough.” 

The bartender returned with the orders. 

“It’s just… I always thought it would feel different. You know?” Your eyes flickered back towards the booth, only to find it empty. 

“Forget I was here?” Javier remarked, causing your heart to skip a beat as he slung his arms over your shoulders and Steve’s.

“We can’t talk shit about you at the table.” Steve remarked, shaking his arm off. “The drinks just got here, jackass.”

His arm was still casually slung over your shoulders and you tried to ignore just how much you enjoyed it. “Were you really talking shit about me?” Javier questioned as he tapped on the bar and ordered two shots. 

“In a round about way.” You answered, your eyes following Steve as he retreated back to the booth. “See you back at the table.”

Javier caught your arm before you could escape. “This shot has your name on it.” He said, gesturing towards the bartender as he returned with two shots. “You said you wanted to catch up.”

Your tongue traced over your bottom lip, before you relented, sitting your beer back down on the bar as you turned towards him. “Fine.” You crossed your arm with his, before bringing the shot to your lips and knocking it back with a satisfied hiss.

Something about the way the muscles of Javier’s neck showed as he leaned back to drink the whiskey caught your attention. And you tried to ignore the line of thinking that had you picturing your lips trailing over that same skin. 

“So, where’s the suit?” Javier questioned, gesturing towards your dress. “Busy sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong?”

Something burned through you and it wasn’t just the whiskey. “Oh, fuck off Javier.” You snapped, turning on your heels and heading back for the booth.

You hadn’t considered the fact that entering the booth first meant Javier’s body would effectively cage you in. And he sat himself far too close to you as he rejoined you and Steve at the table. 

Not that you hadn’t done the same before. 

“Someone’s acting cagey about the CIA tonight.” Javier remarked lightly, giving you a pointed look.

“Drop it.” Steve said firmly, knocking his knuckles against the top of the table to get Javier’s attention. “Not tonight.” 

You brought your beer bottle to your lips, glancing towards Javi. You watched the way his shoulders tensed as he stared straight ahead at Steve with body language you couldn’t quite read. 

“Did you hear the director’s gonna be at the embassy this week?” Javier questioned, looking between you and Steve then.

“Yeah,” You nodded. “Heard he’s in the city to meet with Barco. Things are going to be heating up over the next couple of months.” You explained, rolling the base of the beer bottle against the table. 

“Escobar?” Steve questioned as he took a sip of beer.

You pressed your tongue to the inside of your cheek, giving a short shake of your head. “My sources think Gacha. He’s gone rogue the last couple months. Ever since news broke on the training camps, things have been tense.” 

Javier rocked his jaw thoughtfully, “Your guy’s on the inside, right?”

Your eyes darted around warily, always cautious of who was listening. But the bar was filled with the regulars, familiar faces you’d seen weekly for almost two years. “Yeah. Matias has connections to the Ochoa brothers.” You answered Javier, keeping your voice low. “If we don’t get Gacha first, the Cali Cartel will. There’s a feud there that we could exploit.” 

He clicked his tongue against his teeth as he nodded in agreement, “Does Lance know about Matias?”

You rubbed your lips together and stared down at your bottle of beer. 

“We didn’t come here to talk shop, Peña.” Murphy must’ve kicked him under the table because Javier jerked in his seat, his leg knocking against yours. “What are your plans for the weekend?”

“I finally got my hands on a copy of Queen of the Damned. Only eight months after its release.” You answered, offering Javier a faint smile. “Thanks, by the way.” 

Javier nudged you in the ribs, “Anytime, baby.” 

“How many shots ahead of me, are you?” You questioned, chewing on your bottom lip as you tilted your head to look at him. 

His brows furrowed, “Three. Including the one at the bar.” 

“Jesus Christ, Javi.” You shoved him playfully in the shoulder. “Go get me two.” 

Reluctantly he slid out of the booth, glancing back at you, before he headed for the bar. 

“Steve, I know I said I don’t want to discuss the Lance thing, but I can handle Javier being… Javier.” You knew he hated Lance, you were basically immune to his smartass comments at this point. “I appreciate the effort, though.” 

“We both know Javier can take things too far.” 

“I really don’t mind.” You looked towards the bar, watching as Javier laughed over something the bartender had said, before starting back towards the pair of you. “He means well.” You glanced back at Steve then, brows furrowed. “What’s that look for?”

He shook his head, chuckling. “Nothing.” 

You frowned, “Doesn’t look like a nothing look to me.” 

“Nah,” He waved his hand dismissively, before rubbing at the back of his neck. “So what’s the story with the book?”

“It’s been an absolute bitch trying to get non-essential shit through the embassy.” You explained, tapping the base of your bottle against the table, “I guess they don’t think Anne Rice is a need-to-have.” You rolled your eyes. “Anyways, I’d mentioned the issue to Javier and he managed to get his hands on a copy.” You sat up a little straighter as Javier returned with the shots. “Let Connie know she can borrow it when I’ve finished.”

“She loves that shit.” Steve agreed with a nod. “She’ll get a kick out of it.” 

You pushed your beer bottle aside as Javi returned, setting your sights on the two shots of whiskey. “You didn’t have more shots at the bar, did you?” 

Javier shook his head, “We’ll be even after this.” 

You downed both in succession, the glasses clinking against the table as you sat them back down heavily. You blinked, shuttering a little as you felt the warmth of the liquor fan out through you as it slid down your throat. 

“You good?” Javier snorted, trying not to laugh. 

“Are you good?” You countered, narrowing your eyes at him, before you looked back at Steve. “Why aren’t you doing shots?”

“I don’t mix.” He gestured to his bottle of beer. 

“Weak.” 

Steve shrugged, “Probably.” 

God, you were glad you’d decided to show up here, rather than going to Lance’s. You liked the guy, you really did… but you wouldn’t trade anything for this. With Steve and Javier you felt like you belonged. And that wasn’t a feeling you were intimately familiar with. 

And maybe in the long run you could love Lance, but you weren’t ready for your relationship to reach that stage. How could you love someone who was loathed by the person who meant the — by the people who meant the world to you. Both of them, not just Javier. 

You swallowed thickly as you rubbed your lips together. 

“What are you doing this weekend, Javier?” Steve questioned. 

Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth, dragging his fingers through his hair. “I’m working on a new informant.” 

Steve pursed his lips and nodded slowly, “Alright. So work?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged.

Your eyes followed the path his fingers took as they moved through his hair, unsticking the hair that was sticking against his forehead and behind his ears. You’d never noticed the bluish green mark behind his ear.

“When’d you get a tattoo?” You blurted out. 

“What?” Javier turned to look at you, brows furrowed.

“Your tattoo.” You reached out and brushed your fingers over the spot just behind his ear. “I’ve never noticed it before.”

“Shit,” He thought for a moment. “I think I was probably eighteen.” 

You rubbed your thumb over the spot, before you gently played your fingers through his hair there, savoring the soft texture of it beneath your fingertips. 

Steve cleared his throat, “You never noticed that before?”

You shook your head, “You know, Lance hates tattoos.”

“Figures.” Javier huffed, making no attempt to stop your fingers as you played them through his hair more freely. “I’ve got more if you’d ever like a private tour of them.”

“Maybe.” You said coyly, brushing your fingers down the back of his neck before you reached for your beer again. 

Steve looked between the two of you, before shaking his head slowly. “Not that anyone asked, but Connie and I are gonna drive out to Buenaventura. Spend the weekend near the water.” 

You and Javier both gave him a skeptical look. 

“That’s ten hours away, Murphy.” You pointed out. 

“So what?” Javi questioned. “You’re gonna drive ten hours just to stare at the water?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Connie’s missing Miami.” 

“Buenaventura is not Miami.” 

“The water.” Murphy insisted. “Look, we just need a getaway.” He leaned his elbows against the table, “Come to think of it, a getaway might do you and Lance some good.”

You caught the way Javier’s head turned, his eyes fixed on your face. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Nope.” You said shortly, bringing your beer bottle to your lips. You kept your gaze fixed straight ahead. “Everything is just fine.” 

He didn’t push it any further than that. 

Another round of beers made its way to the table along with another pair of shots for you and Javier to share. 

Why couldn’t it be this easy with Lance? You had fun with him, sure. But it never felt like this. And of course, it just had to be Javier. The last person in the world who would ever reciprocate anything outside of friendship.

And you were lucky you had that. 

You never imagined yourself as the type of woman to settle, but honestly? Lance wasn’t that bad. He was a good man, he was kind and smart and funny. Good at his job. He should’ve been everything and yet...You’d rather be alone and have this than be stuck with someone you had to convince yourself to love. 

Fuck. You were going to have to break up with Lance. And you were fairly certain he’d been slowly working towards popping the question with you. 

But it wasn’t fair to either of you to keep playing a game.

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

[rezdogsyonder]

Changing

Pairing: Peter Parker x Tall!Reader

Summary: Peter has found his soulmate but does she feel the same? Basically a soulmate au but different

Warnings: kidnapping, drugging,

A/N: Peter is aged up. Also I changed his powers just a tiny bit just one thing and the rest is the same.

This peice is unfinished and it will remain unfinished because I’m leaving tumblr and will not be returning. If you wish to continue this you may.

*********

Fuck. Not right now. Not today.

That’s all you can think as you’re nearly late for your first day as an photographer. It isn’t the first place you wanted to work for but you need the money. Well probably not a “real” photographer. You’re not hired for the job on a regular basis, but for their front page photos of Spider-Man. It’s cool, Spider-Man won’t let anybody else take his photos.

Well, it’s not really your first day but it’s the first day that Jameson is actually considering you as his official Spider-Man photographer. Before you usually would email him asking if he needed more photos and now he is finally now telling you that you’re going to be the official photographer for the weekly Spider-Man pieces.

You have started a blog for the hero and hopefully it will gain traction and maybe you’ll get to make an income from it. But for now you have to sell your photos to the Daily Bugle.

The rent is due Friday and you get a check from the gas station you work at that day, it won’t be enough to cover it though. But with a check after each batch of photos you provide will put you way over the green this pay day.

You’re rushing about your medium sized 1 room apartment. This place was a gem, the only reason this place was as cheap as a studio is because a billboard was directly across from the extremely large windows. Lighting up your entire apartment. It didn’t bother you much, it saved on electricity from never having to turn on the lights and all you needed was blackout curtains in your room.

You are not changing shirts but you squeeze into a pair of black pants. The grey boyfriend cardigan getting tucked in the back, but it doesn’t deter you from running to the bathroom and vigorously brushing your teeth. You’ll have to forgo the entire makeup routine but you have time for foundation and mascara.

Rushing back into your bedroom you pull a pair of socks from the top drawer of your dresser and look at your alarm clock. 9:42. 18minutes till you’re late. Well you know in Jameson’s eyes you are already late but he screams at you no matter what.

Your second shoe is tied, you got your purse and it has your wallet, phone, and keys already. You run out of your room and in the hallway of the complex. Fuck, locking these doors seems to be the longest part of leaving. 3 locks, self installed with the extra long screws. Never needed this much security before but some blind asshole next door seems to always be getting into fights. Like what the fuck, how hard is it to not fight someone, and then he leads them here.

Once the doors are locked and you’re out of the building you look at your phone. 9:44. 16 minutes to go around 2 miles. Well broadway cuts across, so probably less, but anyways you gotta run it. Now you’re not the most fit person, but you are able to push yourself more than what others would think you’d be able to.

Dodging people and avoiding running into the road, you make it to the first turn. Basically a straight shot now, but it seems as though people are wanting to be in your way today. You would love a bike right about now. Though you’d have a really high chance of getting hit by a car. But it’s right about the same risk since you are not stopping at the do not walk signs.

One car almost did hit you, but it braked in time but not without you slapping the hood as you went by. Not on purpose but from loss of balance. Well you probably would have slapped it anyways. Your face burns from the run, and the heat, it is the end of summer but it is still pretty hot out.

Oh god, this is awful, you’re just a more than halfway and you nearly ran into an old man and his wife outside of m&m world.

“Sorry!” You shout back but it’s not very loud and sounds winded. You won’t stop though.

Just a couple more turns. Just two more turns. Just one more. You keep telling yourself that you’re almost there, legs straining the muscles from the over exertion.

You get into the building and run to the elevator. You know you probably look unprofessional right about now but you don’t care. You just need to catch your breath.

You press the right floor and dig through your purse. The small mirror being a lifesaver as of recently, since being late is seeming to become a common ovccurance. You pat your forehead with the sleeve of your cardigan. You don’t look too bad, but not the best. You check the time, 9:58. Not bad, you’ll be just 1 minute early. The elevator ride giving you just enough time to breath properly.

The elevator doors open to the busy floor, and you go over to Jameson’s assistant, not even reaching her desk before she points her pen behind her to his office.

“L/N!” He immediately shouts, “Where are those photos?” He is still looking out the window behind his desk.

“Right here sir,” you pull the envelope out of your purse holding it out for him to take it. Which he does, ripping the lip of the envelope and begins examining your photos.”

“850. Tell Betty on your way out.” He plops you’re photos on his desk.

“850? That’s not my rate, there are 12 photos there.”

“These just aren’t worth your usual rate. 850.” He argues back, you’ve seen this before, had you been any smaller or even sitting he would have put his hands on his desk and leaned towards you to seem intimidating, but right now he looks like a child with his hands balled at his side.

“65 per photo or I go to The Post.” You won’t back down. That’s nearly a thousand, and you don’t want to let it go, even if it is less than 200 more than what he offered but you need it.

He stares at you, he’s turning red now in the ears. You collect your photos calling his bluff.

“Fine,” he grumbles, he presses a button on the small speaker on his desk, “Betty, write out a check for L/N for 975.” He released the button and you put the photos down. “Get out of here, she’ll call when we have another piece.”

“You’re a peach,” you smiled as you back out of his office. “Hey Betty, how’re you doing this week?”

“Just fine, but his wife wants me to control his anger as soon as his meds are sorted. Not looking forward to that.” She finishes filling out the check on her computor, and with one last click that is so familiar to you now, you know she printed it.

“Jesus, I do not want to be here for that.” You step back four steps to the printer and rip off the receipt at the bottom that she needs to keep and hand it to her. “Good luck, because you will need it. Thanks, see you next week!” You wave bye as the doors close.

Letting out a sigh of relief, and tucking your check into your wallet. You’re glad you won’t have to worry anymore. With this check you’ll have four or five hundred more than you’ll need for rent, meaning you won’t have to scrape by for grocerys.

You better hurry though, you have an hour till your next shift at the gas station and you still need a shower.

**********

The hours are going by slowly, with few customers to keep you distracted. Just 4 more hours and you get to call it a night. It has already been 6 hours since you clocked in and there had only been a handful of customers, making the day uncharacteristically slow.

Your phone begins vibrating on the small fridge below the counter, the shift managers name on the display screen. Seeing as there’s no customers you think it is fine to answer.

“Hello? Debby?” You greet subconciously.

“Y/N I have some bad news.” She pauses, “the person who is supposed to relieve you is refusing to come in. She quit.”

“What am I supposed to do? I’ve been here since 11:30, I don’t think it’s allowed for me to work past 1. Wasn’t her shift supposed to last till 8?”

“Yes I know but you are legally allowed to work till 4:30, and that is when I’ll take over because I cannot find another person to cover her shift. It’s only alright because I’m switching your shift tomorrow with Alex and you’ll have the day off to recuperate. Then it’s your usual day off the next so I think that’s enough time to get back to normal.”

“So I’m leaving at 4:30?” Disbelief evident in your voice.

“Yes, I’m sorry, I would get there now but John doesn’t come home until late tonight because he took the graveyard shift at his job and I can’t leave J.C. alone.”

“Yeah I understand, family comes first.”

“Thank you, you’re the best. See ya later.”

“Yeah, see you.”

You put down your phone and mentally prepare yourself for another 11 hours.

**********

Three red bulls, and a seasonal pumpkin spice coffee from the dispenser and it was almost midnight.

Many more customers has came in after the call, the universe seemingly wanting to tire you out further. Then it began slowing down again after 9. The time you were supposed to be going home if Patricia didn’t fucking refuse to come in.

It was about that time that a young man came in, wearing a dark suit but without the blazer. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Light brown hair and pale skin, he looked breathtaking. He quickly rounds to the back grabbing three of the big bottles of water.

“Just these for me...” he trails off as he sniffs, then he looks up and makes eye contact with you.

You two are staring at each other for a few seconds, his stare becoming unbearable and you look away.

“Ok sir... that’ll be 5.97.” You still feel his gaze. Refusing to look up, you bag his things. You hear his card slide through the machine.

“Thank you sir, have a nice night.”

“Yeah... you too.” And with that he was gone. Leaving you to think about this stranger for the rest of your shift.

**********

As promised, Debbie came at 4:30. You left to walk home. It was nice living basically across the street from your work. A short walk, but you still felt a sense of unease.

Looking all around you, you don’t spot any suspicious people. Not even one heading in the same direction as you. You let out a small sigh as you cross the road. But it does nothing to calm your nerves.

You’re trying not to seem panicked as you try to get through the door to your building but it might be obvious with how you’re shaking.

Past the door you let go if your breath that you didn’t know you were holding. Finally able to calm down. You walked to apartment, using the elevator instead of the stairs.

Once at your door your heart beat seems to have gone back to normal, but before you even put your key in the door you feel the hairs at the back of your neck stand up. You don’t know what it is, maybe it’s just a chill.

Unlocking all the locks you go inside, greeted by the bright pink fluorescent lights. You shut the door behind you and drop your bag on the floor. Too tired to care. Moving to go into your room, knowing that you’re not going to change into pajamas either.

Well probably take of the pants. Yeah, jeans are never comfy.

Shoes kicked off, pants off, bra off with some difficulty from your long sleeves, blankets pulled back and you’re ready for bed. You’re getting in when you hear a creek in the living room, but you don’t see anyone so it’s maybe the upstairs neighbours.

You turn around once more to lay down and you feel a pinprick at your neck. You slump over and you feel hands at your shoulders, picking you up in their arms.

Eyes won’t open, and you are quickly losing consciousness.

“Shh, you’re safe with me.”

*********

Your head is pounding, that’s what wakes you up. You still feel groggy and it makes your eyelids feel incredibly heavy. You want to sleep for more but your eyes keep fighting to open.

Once they do you are met with a room that is not your own. Everything is white, except the headboard which is a light grey, matching the bedside table. You look around, about 6 feet from the foot of the bad is a back door and there’s a bathroom to the left of the bed with the door wide open.

You run to the closed door, you grasp the handle but you get a head rush and are unable to turn the handle for a good 5 seconds. It’s no use though, the door was locked, and it doesn’t seem like a regular lock. It seems more advanced, it’s a regular handle but it’s warm, and doesn’t have any keyhole. It’s also not as big as a hotel handle, like the ones with the scanners. Irrelevant, but your mind is running a million miles an hour and you’re trying really hard to not panic.

You realize that you aren’t wearing your pants but a pair of sweats were at the edge of the king bed. You quickly pull them on. Your kidnapper has already seen your ass, but it’s a little bit comforting. Your bladder is full and it is more apparent now than a couple minutes ago.

They aren’t here yet, better be quick. You half jog into the bathroom it has a large sink and a nice looking shower, but you don’t want to use it due to there being no lock on the bathroom door and the shower door is glass. Not even one of those blurred glass doors, it is crystal clear.

You had already peed and we’re washing your hands when you hear a small beep and the locks opening. You’re drying your hands when you hear a knock at the door. You don’t answer.

Another knock, you stared at the door, a low sigh is heard and the door swings open.

It was the man from last night, except now he was covering his eyes with his hand.

“I swear I’m not looking but please come out right now.”

“... alright.” You’re voice is a little rough and just above a whisper.

“Thank you.” He turned around leaving the door open and you follow.

“Come with me.” he waves his hand over the lock and the beep is heard again.

He leads you through the door into a long hallway, when he turned to the left so did you. There’s no point in running when he would catch you in less than 2 seconds.

You pass by 4 doors, one on your left and three on your right. The fifth door on the right you entered and it was an office.

“Sit.” And you did, he sat behind the large desk and leaned forward with his elbows on it. “I need to tell you something that would be hard to hear. Hell, hard to believe, but just know that everything I’m telling you is true.”

You nodded when he paused and looked at you. You felt so out of place and uncomfortable. Heart beating so fast and hard, it feels as though it’s bursting out of your chest. Your hands slightly shaking and feet tapping where you sat on the edge of this obviously expensive chair.

“I’m going to be frank with you alright? You are my soulmate.”

You freeze, “wait... what?” You didnt believe it, he was right. He’s crazy. Soulmates were a rare thing in this world. How would he know? He only knew you for 5 seconds so why does he know? Why would he take you?

“We are soulmates. I felt it when I first met eyes with you, I know that you did too. I took you here because, to put it simply, you would be safe. There are many people after me and if they learned of your existsence they would find you and use you against me.”

“H-how do I know your not lying?” You stare at the lines in the wood of his desk, refusing to look up. When you look him in the eyes you feel the same pull that you did back at the gas station. You hear rustling and you glance up for just a second, then you look back when you realize it’s just his arm that he wants you to look at.

He begins rolling his sleeves like the way you saw last night. Or was it even still the next day? You don’t know. Not seeing any clock or any windows since you were at your home.

Beautiful lines are spread across his forearm and you realize it wasn’t there before. “Can you look at your arm?” His voice is gentle, like he’s trying to be comforting.

You stare at his arm as you pull your sleeve up, then you look down at a blank arm. You pull up your other sleeve just as roughly and see the same tattoo that he has. You touch it gently as though it’ll smear if you are as rough as you were two seconds ago.

“Mine showed up a little after I stepped out of that store. I guess you didn’t notice yours.” You rub at yours and it won’t come off, and the skin isn’t raised as though you have a regular tattoo.

“What does this mean?”

“This means that you are now mine.” You feel tears welling in your eyes.

“So I can’t go home?”

“No, and some things are going to change.” You look at him wide eyed, fearful for the changes that he has in mind.

“So I’m sure you have heard of the powered people of New York, and I am telling you that I am one of them. Not only that, but I am a member of the avengers.” He pauses, you feel his eyes on you and you can only assume he is trying to gauge your reaction. “But I didn’t achieve my abilities through government testing or anything of the sort. I was bit by a mutant spider and I gained the spiders abilities.”

“You’re... Spider-Man?”

“That’s right. Now that you’re here, I will have to give you the same abilities I have so that we will be on equal grounds.”

“How are you going to do that?” You look up at his face.

“I will bite you of course.”

#avengers #marvel #avengers fic #marvel fic #peter #peter parker #spiderman #soulmates #soulmate au #dark!peter #dark!peter parker #dark!peter x reader #dark fic #dark fandom #dark fanfiction

[willowaudreykeyes]

Red Stains On The Sun

Warnings: Self-harm, bullying mention, racism mention, blood, knife, injury, wing injury (non-permanent), facial scars, paralysis mention, swearing

Medusa-esque Remy, Dragon Janus, Indian Janus

@ladyedwinya​ @sparrowofsong​ @5am-the-foxing-hour​

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

Remy

Despite the amount of coffee that I drink weekly, it’s surprising that I’m not as antsy and jittery as I am right now. The weapons stowed away behind my enchanted sunglasses dart between every person on the street despite my insistence to look between my phone and coffee cup. It’s a Medusa’s instinct I guess; but I don’t have the time to explain why forty people in the street are paralysed in place. I’m uncharacteristically worried and my coffee cup is both too full and too empty for my liking; so I’d only be grumpy and irritated to whatever copper that stopped me.

My best friend, a sarcastic but secretly loving bitch, is way too quiet after the last week of constant tears and comforting, so sue me for being worried about him. The very act of being weak in front of others is so unlike Janus already, and now he’s just silent instead of deflecting the topic by ranting about another or constantly denying the building tears in his eyes. 

It’s strange and I don’t like it.

It’s not normal for Janus to let his calls go to voice mail only an hour after he gets home from school ‒he’d prefer to pick up and tell whatever person who dared call him during his studying hour to fuck off– and even if he had left it to voice mail, he would call back within the hour. It’s been five since I last saw him quickly flying away from school grounds, ignoring me as I called his mobile as he flew away.

I make sure to adjust my glasses properly before rushing on into his apartment building and climbing the stairs, two at a time. I can feel the coffee slosh around in my hand, but that’s what the lid is for. Besides, the carpet is brown enough to not tell the difference between it and a coffee stain. 

The few drops of red just outside of Janus’ apartment door sure is visible against his mostly-yellow welcome mat though.

“Janus!? Jan, babe, open the door!”

After moments without a reply, I press my ear up to the door in the hopes of hearing… something that helps me. His parents haven’t been home in weeks because they’re business assholes who went to Fiji or something, so the light tapping sound that I have to strain to hear must be him. Or maybe a pipe in the wall.

“Jan! I know you’re home, babes! Let me in. Please!?” Nothing but that tapping sound replies back to the increasing franticness of my voice. I wordlessly thank the stupid adults who thought teaching a magic-born teenager how to pick a lock was a good idea and put down my coffee to take out the small bits of metal that live inside my jacket’s inner pocket.

With practiced hands, the door opens in under a minute, and I rush inside once I grab a hold of my cup in my now-shaking hands. The small blood drops lead me straight to the kitchen where a familiar pair of snake-themed socks peek out from behind a counter. 

My heart stops as I race over to them, seeing the dragon-boy attached to them curled up on the floor, knife in one blood covered hand as the other holds a scaled wing at a strange angle. The sun-dipped scales of his wing are hidden behind a smothering of bright blood, along with the scarred warm brown skin that the blood threatens to hide beneath its foulness.

Words trap themselves inside my throat as his brown eyes, the golden sparkles reflecting the red of his blood scarily well, sit unfocused in the wings’ direction while the knife slowly approaches it. He aims it towards a slight cut that’s as close to his shoulder as he can reach, the blood still flowing from it and hiding how deep it truly is.

My coffee is on the floor, and his eyes are on mine just as I realise what his goal is.

“Fuck- Remy, Y… You weren’t supposed to s-see me yet!” His stained red fingers shakily grip onto the knife tighter, yet sink away from the open cut slightly. The shake in his voice is almost like another person, as Janus doesn’t stutter. He doesn’t freak out and cuss freely. Those precise hands of his don’t shake.

But he does. And he is. Oh fuck, he’s really going to do this… 

“Wait, Rem, just… j-just give me… Give me a little longer. Just a b-bit longer...” 

“S-Stop…” The lump in my throat hardens and becomes painful as my legs give out, letting me fall to my knees by his side and take the bloodied knife away from his hand before he can react. He stutters in protest as I throw it over my shoulder, making a loud clang as it hits the bottom of the sink, and I take both his hands into mine. “I don’t want this, Jan.”

“L-Liar…” His throat bobs as he harshly swallows; avoiding my eyes as his wings twitch and try to fit him as they sit in dangerously bad positions. “No o-one wants them… Or me…”

“Those bullies are the fucking liars-”

“I’m a monster, Rem…” Jan sniffs as a few tears manage to shift a small trail of blood down a bit, with their only real achievement being that they’re turning his eyes bloodshot from crying. “You know that I’m adopted… Not even m-my real parents wanted me...”

“I do, dumbass.” 

I shift our hands so that I can hold them both with just one of mine; using the thumb of my free hand to gently turn his head by the chin to look back at me. I can see the small hairs that frame his face begin to fade back to a dark brown instead of the gorgeous gold that he loves to dye, getting stuck to his forehead with blood and sweat. The specks of gold in his eyes now reflect my dark sunglasses, causing his eyes to darken and make their bloodshot nature more prevalent. The slowly forming frown line that grows every time someone pisses him off and causes him to spout out line after line of insults sits behind the blood spatter that managed to cover the majority of it.

How anyone thought of Janus as a monster without getting to really know him, and how amazing of a friend he is behind the sass and self-defensive insults, is the real monster in the world.

“You may be a monster, but so am I. So are the twins… They’re bloodsuckers, babe. Apart from ghouls, they’re the only ones that have to drink actual blood to survive. And my ancestor was a bitch who killed people and made them into badly-posed lawn ornaments.”

“But you don’t have th… these wings! They’re wings of criminals!” Stupid, dragon racism can go fuck itself. “Th-The stupid, fucking scars are ugly and a headache to look at, too...” 

“Your dark scars are prettier than their tanned six-packs and stupid, jock faces could ever be. Plus…” I release his chin to lightly boop him on the nose, gaining a smile as I watch his face scrunch up and show off the dark freckles over his forehead and scarless cheek that manages to peek past the blood. “If your  bestie and close friends think that you’re cute and an amazing person, then who fucking cares about what some assholes say?”

His flustered hiss of reply draws out a short laugh from me. While the hint of a smile plays along his lips for the first time in a while, which is all I need from him for now.

“I-I… I apologi-”

“Uh uh. Shush your face, pretty scales.” I shift, quickly kissing the top of his head before grabbing the bandages and wet rag that sat on the bench behind him that he was probably going to use once the deed was done. The thought sends a shiver down my back, but I ignore it and show the wet rag to him. “I gotta patch and clean you up, carry you to the couch, let you pass out on me, then wake up to buy coffee for us both before I clean up the blood and coffee that would be dry by then– but fuck cleaning it today.”

Caffeine can wait; there’s always another cup of coffee tomorrow; Janus surviving this means more than a measly three dollars. Luckily enough, once the blood slows down I can see that he barely managed to cut through the scales and skin of his wing and that he had hardly gotten to the muscle and nerves. I wouldn’t have a clue on how to tell him that he’s fucked up any future late-night flights, so at least I wasn’t too late to stop him. Although, I’d much prefer it if I didn’t have to see any of his blood.

“If you want to try and cut off a limb again, come talk to me first? Please, Janus?”

“... I’ll try to.”

“That’s all I ask for, babe.” I doubt Janus will ever be open enough to tell us when he needs help, but I’m sure he can become a little better at it. The depressing look in his eyes shows how much he regrets doing this; it was probably a hurried thing from the looks of it. So giving him some cuddles to calm him down as soon as possible will hopefully bring back the sass that I know this snakey-dragon can dish out. “I promise that this won’t take too long, and then we can go have some water and crackers before having a nap.” 

And while we snack, I’m sure I can think of a few ideas on how a half a dozen kids can become ‘accidentally’ completely paralyzed just before their next big sports event...

#janus sanders #remy sanders #TS Shorts Sleep #remceit #platonic remceit #roman mention #remus mention #<- implied both are vampires #dragon janus #medusa remy #indian janus #tw self harm #tw bullying mention #tw racism mention #tw blood #tw knife #tw injury #tw wing injury #non-permanent wing injury #tw paralysis mention #tw swearing #tw facial scars #willowkeyes writes

[pikapeppa]

Cullen/Lavellan smut: Command

Cullen x Piper Lavellan SMUT for @schoute because TRADE DAYS ARE BEST DAYS. 

In which Piper is sheer cheek, and Cullen has had it. 😏

Read on AO3 instead; ~4400 words.

*******************

Cullen kneeled carefully in Skyhold’s chapel and gazed up at the statue of Andraste. Her serene stone face was clean of moss and mold, well-maintained as she was by the handful of Chantry sisters and brothers who had joined their cause. The flickering golden lights from the votives and myriad candles cast wavering shadows across Andraste’s face, while also chasing all but the most stubborn shadows into the corners of the chapel. 

He took a deep breath to center himself, then bowed his head and closed his eyes. “There was no word for heaven or for earth, for sea or sky,” he murmured. “All that existed was silence. Then the Voice of the Maker rang out, the first word, and His word became all that might be: dream and idea, hope and fear, endless possibilities. And from it He made His firstborn.” Cullen took another long, slow breath, then continued to recite the threnody. “And He said to them: ‘in my image I forge you. To you, I give dominion over all that exists. By your will may all things be done.’” 

He went on to quietly recite the second stanza, taking measured and meditative breaths between phrases to calm his mind. When he finished reciting the second stanza, he opened his eyes. 

Piper was sitting beside him.

He jolted, then released his breath on a quiet huff of laughter. Her arms were draped loosely around her knees, and her mischievous grin was an endearing contrast with Andraste’s placid expression. 

“Piper. You startled me,” he said warmly. “How long have you been sitting here?”

“Since the bit about the fancy golden city,” she said. She winked at him and stretched her legs out. “You can keep going if you want. I can wait and watch.”

Her tone was salacious, and Cullen smiled. “That’s all right,” he said. “I was finished anyway. I simply wanted to say a quick prayer, since I missed the service this morning.”

Piper widened her eyes. “You missed the service this morning? What a naughty commander.”

He gave her a chiding smirk. She knew very well that he’d missed Mother Giselle’s weekly prayer service this morning. Piper had just returned from the Hissing Wastes last night, and instead of rising with the sun and having breakfast with his men before the prayer service as he usually did, Cullen had opted instead to remain in bed with his elven lover until almost seven-thirty. It was an unprecedented lie-in, but one that he didn’t regret in the slightest.

He rose to his feet and politely held out a hand to help her up. “What brings you to the chapel? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you set foot in here.”

She smiled and took his hand. “Joke’s on you, then,” she said. “I’ve been in here exactly once before. I made a flower crown for your girl Andraste there because she looks a little plain, but I got caught by one of those Chantry sisters while I was climbing her to put the crown on her head.”

His eyebrows jumped up. “Climbing– wait. You climbed the statue of Andraste?”

“Yes, of course,” she said as though this was an everyday occurrence. “How else was I supposed to put the flower crown on her head? Anyway, one of those sisters caught me and started scolding me about disrespecting Andraste, and then another sister came in and started going on about how it wasn’t disrespectful because I was Andraste’s chosen and that’s how I was communing with her…” She grimaced. “Total nugshit, of course, but they started arguing about whether I was a heathen or not, and some of the gardeners crowded around to watch, and I snuck out and ran away during the ruckus. I’ve never come back since.”

Cullen stared in disbelief at her guileless face. “How have you never told me this tale before?”

“You never asked,” Piper said.

He frowned. “I… I would hope I wouldn't have to ask for tales like this.”

She pulled a little face. “Why? Am I in trouble? Cassandra already scolded me about leaving footprints on Andraste’s back.”

His eyes widened. “Footprints? How…?” His gaze dropped to Piper’s perpetually filthy feet. “No, I see. Of course you’re not in trouble. I’m simply surprised you didn’t tell me such an… interesting story.”

She shrugged and blinked her big hazel eyes. “I didn’t mean to not tell you. It just got lost in the shuffle, I guess.” She folded her arms and smiled. “It sounds like you enjoy my interesting stories.”

“You know I do,” he said. “They make for very interesting reports.”

Piper gave him a sweeping bow. “Anything to entertain my honourable commander.”

He huffed in amusement, and Piper’s smile widened. She tucked her hands in her pockets and rocked idly on her heels, and as she looked around the chapel, Cullen looked at her. Her dirty feet were bare as always, and her slender hips were adorned with a chaotically colourful sash that the Inquisition’s children had woven for her. Her breeches were faded and patched, and her untamed cloud of hair stood in sharp contrast with the chapel’s simple but tidy decor. 

“Piper,” he said tentatively. “Did you… you didn’t know much about Andrastianism before the Inquisition, did you?”

“Nope,” she said casually. “All I knew was the occasional human swearing about ‘by the Maker’ or ‘Maker’s breath’ when my clan ran across them while hunting or travelling. Sometimes they’d tell us that the Maker had no place for knife-ears in the afterlife or whatever. Which would have been insulting if any of us gave a fuck what those random humans thought.” She shot him a guarded look. “Uh, no offense.”

“That’s all right,” he said. Her words were blunt, but not surprising; he knew Piper didn’t believe herself to be Andraste’s Herald, and most people in Skyhold had stopped calling her the Herald at her insistence.

She wandered slowly around the small chapel, and Cullen watched her fondly for a moment before speaking again. “So I suppose your presence here now is not because you were hoping to learn more about Andraste.”

She shot him a cheeky smile. “Sadly, no. A heathen Dalish is what I’m fated to be. But don’t worry, I won’t dance naked in the moonlight singing spooky Elvhen songs or anything like that.”

Dance naked in the moonlight? he thought. Her words might be teasing, but an unwitting image popped into his head nonetheless: a nude Piper stretching and twisting in the darkness, moonlight glinting off of her hair and rendering it an even brighter shade of silver than it already was…

He shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat, feeling slightly guilty for having such thoughts in the chapel. Unfortunately, Piper seemed to detect exactly where his thoughts had gone; her smile was turning wicked.

She took a step closer to him. “Unless you want me to, of course,” she said. “I could dance naked right here in the chapel if that’s what you’d like.” 

“No,” he said hastily. “That’s – I wouldn’t advise that.”

“Why not?” she said. She took another slinky step toward him. “From what I hear, Andraste here was quite the barbarian firebrand. I don’t think she’d mind.”

Cullen scoffed; of course those were the stories of Andraste that Piper would remember. “No, Piper. Getting, er, naked in the chapel won’t be necessary.”

“Who said anything about necessary?” she said. “I’m talking about fun.” She stepped right up to him and trailed her fingertips over his chestplate. She nibbled her lush lower lip, and Cullen stared gormlessly at her mouth until her fingers slid over the buckle of his belt.

A flare of heat bloomed in his belly, and he hastily stepped away from her. “Not here,” he said, quietly but firmly.

“Then where?” she asked.

“Go to my office,” Cullen said.

The words came out more bluntly than he’d intended, and he immediately regretted his tone; Piper was still his boss, after all. But Piper perked up. 

“Commander, is that an order I hear?” she asked.

Her tone was saucy, and her eyes were bright and eager like a magpie’s. Cullen hesitated for a moment, then squared his shoulders. “Yes, Piper. That’s an order. Go to my office now.”

She beamed at him, then darted out of the chapel and made a beeline for the nearest stairs up to the battlements, and Cullen exhaled slowly to calm his shameful libido. He glanced at the statue of Andraste. 

“I apologize, Lady Andraste,” he murmured. Then he turned and quickly followed Piper’s path through the garden and up the stairs. 

At the top of the stairs, he paused. Piper’s colourful woven sash was sitting in a neatly folded pile on the top step. 

He swallowed with a combination of nerves and interest. Piper had a habit of leaving trails of her clothing on the floor when she was stripping, whether before getting into bed or before they made love. If she was leaving pieces of her clothing for him to find… 

He picked up the sash and gazed along the battlements. In the deep darkness of night, he could just spot her bright silver hair as she ran along the battlements toward the tower that housed his office and bedroom. 

He forced himself to maintain a respectable pace as he followed her path. He nodded politely to the smiling guards – smiling because Piper had said something amusing to them as she passed, no doubt – and by the time his tower was near, Piper was standing at the door. 

And she was untucking her shirt from her breeches. 

He practically ran the last fifteen steps to reach her. “Piper, no,” he said firmly. “Don’t do that out here.”

She pouted at him and pulled her shirttails out of the back of her breeches. “So many rules, Commander. Not in the chapel, not on the battlements… where can a girl get naked?” She started pulling the shirt up over her torso.

Cullen hastily crowded her against the door so no one else could see, and she chuckled. “Ooh, this is cozy,” she said. She rolled her shirt up higher – high enough that he could see the first hint of the pale tattoo that adorned her sternum and the undersides of her breasts… 

A rush of lust surged between his legs, but he grabbed her hands to still them. “Piper, stop this,” he ordered. 

“Make me,” she retorted.

He looked down at her. Her chin was defiantly lifted, and her lips were curled in what Dorian would call a ‘shit-eating grin’, and still she was trying to pull her troublemaker’s fingers from his grip. 

He scowled at her, then released one of her hands and hastily unlocked the door to his office. As soon as the door was open, Piper stepped into his office and pulled off her shirt.

The simmer of interest in his gut burst into boil, and Cullen stood dumbly in the doorway for a moment as she dropped her shirt on the floor. She sashayed around his desk, then plopped down in his chair and picked up one of the many papers on his desk.

Cullen shot her a resentful look as he locked the door behind them. “Excuse me. That is my chair,” he said sternly. “And those are my reports.”

She tilted her head and didn’t move. “I’m the Inquisitor, though. So technically these reports are mine.”

Her tone was absolutely dripping with mischief, and he raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s rather tyrannical of you.”

“It is, isn’t it?” she said cheerfully. She put the report back on his desk and stretched her arms overhead, and Cullen’s wayward eyes dropped to her breasts: perfect petite breasts framed by the swirling artistry of her tattoos… 

Then Piper folded her arms behind her head and propped her feet up on his desk. 

Cullen tore his eyes away from her nipples and crossed his arms. “You are being exceedingly rude,” he said. 

“Whatever do you mean?” she said, and she idly waved one dirty foot.

He forced himself to focus on her foot instead of her bare breasts. “That… that naked talk in the Chantry,” he said. “And the, er, stripping on the battlements. And now this.” He gestured at her feet. “Josephine would be displeased.”

Piper barked out a laugh and ran her hands through her silver mane. “I don’t doubt it. But Josie’s not here; you are.” She raised an eyebrow in challenge. “What are you going to do about it, Commander?”

Cullen shook his head slightly. Piper often made salacious comments about how stern and demanding he was when training his men, and this wasn’t the first time she’d tried to goad him into being stern in a more intimate setting. But this was the first time he was actually rising to the bait – both figuratively and literally, if the pulsing tightness in his trousers was any indication.

He placed his palms on his desk and looked her right in the eyes. “Remove your feet from my desk,” he said. “Now.”

Her eyes widened, and he could practically see her thoughts spinning as she decided whether to obey him or defy him. Finally she slid her feet to the floor and tilted her head. “There. Happy now?”

Her expression was cocky, and Cullen shook his head. “Not by half,” he said. “Now remove your, er, person from my chair.”

She grinned at him. “Are you trying to tell me to get my ass out of your seat?”

He scoffed and folded his arms. “I wouldn’t say it like that. Unlike you, I’m not rude.”

She snickered. “That’s too bad,” she said. Then she lounged back in his chair. 

Cullen stared at her as he considered his next move. Her whole golden torso was brazenly displayed, and the buzzing in his body was clamouring to see more. But Piper was being uncooperative unless he told her, in no uncertain terms, what he wanted her to do… 

He took a deep breath to muster his courage. I am the commander of the Inquisition’s army, he told himself. If I can command this army, then I can command Piper Lavellan. With these encouraging – albeit perhaps false – words at the front of his mind, he stalked around to the front of his desk, then gripped the arms of the chair and pulled it around to face him. 

Piper barked out a surprised laugh. “Hey! What’s the big idea–”

He planted his hands firmly on the arms of the chair and looked her dead in the eye. “Piper, get that bottom of yours out of my chair,” he ordered. “Right now.”

She beamed at him. “You know, I would, really I would, but I can’t very well stand up when you’re looming over me like this.”

He leaned closer to her. “I didn’t say anything about standing up.”

As soon as the bold words left his mouth, a touch of worry diluted the buzzing heat in his belly. Had he gone too far? Was that too bold? It seemed he had nothing to fear, however; Piper’s jaw dropped in delight. 

“Oh my. Now that’s a naughty commander,” she purred. “All right, no standing. What should I do instead?” 

He let out a quiet sigh of relief, then stepped back from his chair and folded his arms. “Go upstairs and wait for me. On your, er, knees,” he added sternly. “And you had better be naked by the time I join you.” 

She popped out of his chair and gave him a cheeky salute. “As you say, serrah,” she chirped, and she practically vaulted up the ladder to his bedroom. 

He blew out a relieved breath. Perhaps he was up to this commanding lark in the bedroom after all. He began removing his armour, and when he was finally down to just his trousers, he climbed up to his bedroom.

Piper was naked, just as he’d told her to be, and she was kneeling on the rug beside his bed. She smiled at him, and her bright hazel eyes drifted from his face to his chest and down. By the time her eyes were on his groin, his manhood was pulsing from the heated intent of her gaze and from the tempting sight of her on her knees.

Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips. “Now what?” she said. “What do you want me to do next?” 

He swallowed hard, then slowly approached her. “Help me take these off,” he said, and he plucked at the waistband of his trousers. 

“With pleasure,” she said. “And I mean that literally.” She reached out and began quickly unbuttoning his trousers, and Cullen tried hard to control his breathing as her fingers grazed his skin, but his efforts to control himself were for naught: as soon as the buttons were undone, Piper pulled his manhood out of his open trousers and took him in her mouth.

Cullen jerked with pleasure and surprise. “Piper,” he started to say, but he broke off with a fitful groan: she was peeling his trousers down over his hips while continuing to suckle him. Her lips were firm and her mouth was deliciously warm, and – Maker, it felt incredible, but it was all so quick and his pleasure was already surging, and he wanted this to last… 

He brushed his knuckles over her cheekbone. “Wait,” he gasped. “Piper, wait…”

She immediately released him and looked up at him with wide eyes. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” he panted. “It’s more than all right. But I – I want to lie down. Will you–?”

She cut him off. “Lie down,” she said, and she patted his thigh. “Lie down and tell me what to do next.”

He exhaled shakily, then shoved his trousers off and climbed onto his neatly-made bed. He settled his back against the headboard, then patted the bed beside his hip. “Kneel here with me,” he said. 

She instantly followed his instruction, then rested her hands on her knees and looked at him. “Now what?” she said. 

Take me in your mouth, he thought. He opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated.

Piper tilted her head. “Now what, Commander?” she said, and she slid her knees apart slightly. 

Cullen swallowed hard. There was a telltale sheen of moisture on the very inner margins of her thighs. “Piper…” he begged.

“Just say it, Cullen,” she said softly. “I want you to say it.” She placed her palm on his knee, then slowly slid her hand up toward the apex of his thighs, and he couldn’t stop himself from panting as her hand slid along the inside of his thigh.

She cupped his balls, and he burst out a gasp. “Piper, take me in your mouth,” he blurted.

“Don’t mind if I do,” she purred, and she bent over his body and took him all the way into her throat. 

A pleasured groan escaped his lips, and he flexed slowly into her mouth. The tightness of her lips, the firm stroke of her tongue and the soft heat of her throat enclosing him and the tantalizing tease of her palm on his balls… Maker’s breath, she felt heavenly. With the silken heat of Piper’s mouth taking him deep and the exquisite sight of her naked body bending over him, Cullen couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that he had managed to do anything else today aside from staying in bed with her. 

He reached down and slid his fingers through her hair, pushing the silvery waves aside to better watch as her lush scarred lips moved up and down the length of his shaft. He breathed hard and stroked her nape, then ran his palm along the tattooed length of her back.

She arched her spine in response, and the suggestive curve of her spine further spurred the pleasure that was racing through his body. He continued to smooth his hand over her skin, savouring the softness of her tattooed back and the endearing contrast with her callused archer’s hands, and it wasn’t long before Piper was writhing and moaning into his manhood as she suckled him with increasing fervency. 

He ran his eager hand over her hip and down over her buttock, and she jolted and released his manhood. “Cullen,” she mewled. 

Her voice was strained and tense with need, and it was all the encouragement he required. He  patted her bottom. “Climb on top of me,” he breathed.

She nodded and obeyed him, bracing her palms on his abs as she straddled him. But before he could say anything else, she was sinking down onto his length.

He jolted and cried out, and the sound of his pleasure melded with Piper’s own enraptured cry. A second later, Piper was riding him hard and fast. 

Cullen grabbed her hips and forced her to stop. “Wait,” he panted. “Slow down. Touch yourself first.”

She whimpered and tried to roll her hips, but Cullen held her firmly in place. She finally released a heavy exhale and lightly smacked his belly. “You are being so fucking bossy, you know that?” she said breathlessly. 

She was smiling, however, and Cullen gave her a swift smile in return. “You have only yourself to blame,” he said. “I want you to come first. Touch yourself.”

She tsked. “Fine, fine,” she said, and she reached between her legs. 

Cullen dropped his eyes to her sex and watched as she rolled her fingers over the swollen little bud between her legs. He stared shamelessly at her slick and rosy flesh, then trailed his appreciative gaze up along the planes of her belly to her breasts, then finally back to her face. 

Her eyes were closed, and her lips were parted as she chased her own pleasure. Very slowly, Cullen pulled her hips closer to his. 

He ground his hips into hers in a careful circular pattern, and her lips parted further on a gasp. “Yes,” she breathed. 

Encouraged by her assent, he gripped her hips and pressed himself deeply into her slick tight heat while she caressed her clit. He watched raptly as her expression contorted from a relaxed sort of pleasure into a very tantalizing sort of tension, and at the moment that she gasped with pleasure, Cullen gripped her bottom in both hands and slammed himself in hard. 

“Fuck!” she cried. She shuddered and braced her free hand on his shoulder. “Oh fucking fuck, ah!” She trailed off into a wordless cry of pleasure: Cullen was thrusting his hips clear off of the bed in his eagerness to meet her. She let out another throaty cry and continued swirling her fingers between her legs, and Cullen kept slamming into her until her trembling had waned and she stopped touching herself. 

Then Piper grabbed his shoulders and began riding him hard and fast. Her nails bit into his skin, and he gasped with pain and pleasure both as he dug his fingers into the lush globes of her bottom. A moment later, Piper grabbed one of his hands and pressed it to her breast. 

He happily stroked her nipple with his thumb before firmly palming her breast, and Piper sobbed with pleasure and pressed his hand to her chest. Soon the bed was creaking with their efforts, and that wasn’t the only sound: she was whimpering and gasping with every smooth roll of her hips, and he was groaning with greater abandon as she rolled her exquisite body against his hips, and with every blissful thrust, the pleasure in his gut was growing and building and surging, growing greater and stronger with every impassioned thrust.  

Right at the moment that he was about to meet his rapture, he dug his fingers into her buttock and delivered one last command. “Piper, kiss me,” he gasped. 

She clasped his neck in her hands and sealed her lips over his, and his climax broke like a summer thunderstorm. Pleasure fanned out through his limbs like lightning, and he groaned uninhibitedly into her tongue. She continued to roll against him, and as he came down from the heights of his pleasure, her hands on his neck softened from an eager grip to a tender stroke. 

Her kiss gradually gentled and softened, and Cullen savoured the simple pleasure of her lips. Eventually she leaned away and treated him to a lazy smile, and he helplessly smiled in return. 

He reached up and tucked a wavy lock of damp silver hair behind her pointed ear. “This is why you came to the chapel, is it?” he teased. “To pull me away from my prayers?”

She shrugged and brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead. “I missed you, that’s all.”

He looked at her. She was smiling still, but her eyes were on his hair, and a pang of affection tugged at his heart. 

He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “I missed you, too,” he said softly. “In some ways, it’s almost worse when you are here at Skyhold. Knowing you’re so near, but…” He trailed off, uncertain whether his sentiment was clear or whether it sounded selfish – or worse yet, if he was making it sound like he didn’t want her here. 

But Piper only shook her head. “I know what you mean,” she said. “So close but so far, right?”

“Exactly,” he murmured. 

Piper sighed, then rested her forehead to his, and for a moment they sat quietly in each other’s arms. Then Piper patted his cheek. “Now now, none of this moping,” she said cheerfully. “There’s no moping allowed, not when you’ve fucked me so thoroughly.”

He scoffed and rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s a compliment, I presume.”

“It absolutely is,” she said with relish. “You were perfectly bossy. Next time I’m watching you train your men, guess what I’ll be thinking about?”

“Maker’s breath,” he lamented. “I regret this already.”

Piper laughed and ran her hands through her wavy hair. “Don’t you dare, or I’ll have you do this again. And again and again until you have no regrets.”

He chidingly shook his head, but he couldn’t help but smile. Piper needn’t truly fear that he would have any regrets. With her beautiful nude body splayed across his lap and her bright bark of a laugh ringing in his ears, Cullen didn’t have any regrets at all.  

#cullen rutherford #cullen smut #cullen x lavellan #cullen/lavellan #cullavellan #piperford #pikapeppa writes

[jjungkookislife]

The Roommate Ch. 7.5

Pairing: Vmin x f. reader

Genre: Roommate au

WC: 2.9k

Warnings: cursing, mentions of anxiety

A/n: a half chapter to set up the next chapter

Date: August 9, 2019

“Namjoon!” You groaned as your head hits the pillow, your body relaxing into the mattress as you stare up at the ceiling, your hands fisting the sheets before you close your eyes and exhale heavily.

Namjoon watches you intently, a smile tugging at his lips as you kick your feet for a moment before he deems it safe to get in his bed with you.

“What if I just made the biggest mistake of my life?” You asked, your eyes opening in order to gauge his reaction as you turned to face him once you released his sheets.

“There’s no way of knowing if you did or if you didn’t until later on. You did what’s best for you and no one can blame you for it,” Namjoon stated as he rolled onto his back to stare at his ceiling as well. You huffed, knowing he was right, but it wasn’t the answer you wanted to hear, although he usually had more philosophical outlooks on situations, this one just amounted to “it sucks.”

“But I love them, Joonie. My heart hurts and I’m positive theirs hurt worse.” You pouted, feeling your throat tightening as you felt the urge to cry once again. You blinked back the tears that sting your eyes, releasing a shaky breath as you tried to reign in your emotions.

“I know you do, they know you do, but it’s going to hurt for a bit. You didn’t want to string anyone along, and they knew you could call this off at any point in time. They even told you they were expecting it, Y/n. I’m not saying you should run back to them or go running right to Jungkook but you need to take some time for yourself and figure out where you want to go from here. Besides, Jungkook, Tae and Jimin aren’t the only men in the world, you’re not tied down to anyone and you aren’t limited to the three of them,” Namjoon gave your hand a squeeze and you returned it, knowing he was right. Your thoughts were still jumbled in your head though and as much as you loved your weekly sessions with Namjoon, you knew the advice would remain the same no matter how many times you ended up at his house or him in yours.

“Why is this so hard?” You whine as you roll onto your stomach, pulling Namjoon’s pillow under your head as you make eye contact with him.

“Because you were in a relationship for a few years, despite it being mostly sexual. You need time to heal from this before running into Jungkook’s arms. Have you thought about telling him how you feel?”

“I can’t do that, Joon. It hasn’t been that long since I broke up with Tae and Jimin. The last thing I want is to parade around with Jungkook on my arm weeks after ending our relationship.” You cringe, imagining the scenario, the urge to throw up, rises in you.

“That’s fair. Like I said, take time for yourself to get your shit together. When you’re ready, sit down and talk to Jungkook about your feelings.”

“What if he doesn’t even like me?” You air your worry, causing Namjoon to laugh loudly, his whole body shaking as he wipes tears from his eyes.

“You seriously believe Kook doesn’t like you?” Namjoon questions when he’s done laughing in your face. You send him a glare, nodding slightly before avoiding his gaze.

Namjoon bites his lip, shaking his head at how oblivious the two of you seem to be. Anyone could see how the two of you are around each other, spending a few hours with the two of you would be enough to see that there was something between you but if you genuinely couldn’t see it, Namjoon wasn’t going to get in the middle of it.

“So, how are things with Jimin and Tae?” Namjoon asks as he rests his head on his palm.

“I’m giving them some space. I haven’t talked to them since that day. I don’t really know what to say, you know?”

“That’s understandable. It took me two weeks to get you out of your bed and into mine.”

You raise a brow at your friend. He rolls his eyes at you before flicking you on the forehead. “You know that’s not what I meant. I had to physically drag you out of your bed to get you out of the house just so you could commandeer my bed instead. When I said ‘you need to get out of the house’ I didn’t mean you could hide away in mine while you avoid your exes.” Namjoon seemed exasperated but you were his friend and he knew you better than anyone else. He wanted you to snap back into reality and get on with your life, especially since you were on the verge of losing your straight A's.

“What am I supposed to say, Joonie? Sorry, I broke up with you, let’s go to the movies?” Namjoon winced at your tone but shook his head, knowing you were going to be stubborn and sarcastic.

“Look, I saw them last week, and they looked rough. I’m not gonna lie to you but you’re all best friends and if you knew your friendship couldn’t handle this, then you wouldn’t have done it. Now, I’m not saying to go jump in their bed again, unless that’s what you want, but at least check in to see how they’re doing, okay? I know that’s not what a typical ex would do but this entire relationship was built on friendship and love not just lust, although from what you’ve told me, y’all liked to get kinky.”

“Namjoon!” You screeched as he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, making you smack his chest as he fell back on his bed, laughing so hard his dimples became prominent and his hands clutched his stomach.

“I’m just saying,” Namjoon wipes the tears that rolled down his cheek, trying to catch his breath as he inhaled deeply. “Y’all really just liked to fuck. I’m surprised you’re not pregnant if I’m being honest.”

“I’m on the pill, besides we always used condoms, but we stopped near the end. I’m good tho,” you shrug as you poke Namjoon’s dimple.

Namjoon pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you before he kisses your forehead, “all I’m saying is, you were friends first and you can be friends again. Think about it, if roles were reversed, wouldn’t you want them to check in on you? Don’t let your fear consume you, darling. You’re stronger than you think.”

You didn’t want to admit that your fear was holding you back from reaching out but Joon could read you like a book by now and knew there was no point in lying to him. He knew better, but that didn’t stop the anxiety that filled your belly every time you opened your group chat and your fingers hovered over the keys, only for you to close it in the end.

However, if the roles were reversed, you would want your best friends to check on you. Being dumped hurt but being without two of your best friends hurt more, so you decided you would send them a message just to check in and continue to respect their privacy, at least until the three of you could see each other again without feeling resentful or remorseful.

“Stop thinking about it right now, Y/n. You can hold my hand later when you hit ‘send’ but right now I want the cuddles you came for.” Namjoon made you laugh as you rolled your eyes, but you snuggled closer to him, regardless. You didn’t know what you would do without him. You’d be all alone, actually. You grimace, pushing the thought out of your head as Namjoon kisses your head.

“Cuddle me, Y/n.”

~

Jimin sat on the couch in front of the TV in his pajamas with a bowl of ice cream sitting in his lap. He knew any minute now, Taehyung would walk through the door and see him wallowing in self-pity once again, like he had been for the past three weeks since the breakup. He hasn't had much energy to do anything other than shower, eat, and get dropped off at school only to race home and continue to mope around the house. Taehyung hated seeing his partner so upset, and while he too felt the pain of the breakup, he had taken it upon himself to be the strong one, to provide love and support for his partner. As hard as it was to see Jimin suffer like this, Taehyung needed to keep going for the both of them, and if that meant forcing Jimin to go to school in his pajamas every single day, then so be it. Taehyung knew his boyfriend was still hurting, so all he had asked him to do was shower and made sure he ate something other than ice cream and sweets but as he walked through the door to see his boyfriend in the same spot he had left him in this morning, wearing the same pair of crusty pajamas (now stained with vanilla ice cream) he knew Jimin was having a bad day.

Taehyung shut the door behind him quietly before walking over to his boyfriend. Jimin blinked twice before his red-rimmed eyes settled on his boyfriend, knelt in front of him. Taehyung felt his heart sink to his stomach as he noticed the dry tear streaks on Jimin's cheeks.

"Hi baby," Taehyung whispered as to not frighten or upset Jimin further. Jimin nodded, his hand gripping his spoon to scoop ice cream into it before bringing it to his lips. Taehyung watched as he licked the spoon clean before dipping it back into his bowl, his eyes fixated on the talk show playing in the background. Taehyung sighed, rising to his feet as he let Jimin be while he showered and changed out of his work clothes before going to start dinner. At least today, Jimin had enough energy to run the dishwasher a few times and store the dishes in their proper place.

Once Taehyung had dinner in the oven, he joined Jimin on the couch, removing the now-empty bowl of ice cream from his lap and setting it on the coffee table. Taehyung wished more than anything to make things right, but he didn't know how; he found himself at a loss.

"Jimin, baby? Don't you think it's time you messaged her? I know you wanted us to step back, but we also agreed on remaining friends and if you're just at home crying over her, you're not actually working on the friends part. I've done what you've asked of me, I've given you and her space, I've cried over this too but we promised to be friends. In the end, sweetheart. I'm not trying to rush your grieving or your healing but it's hard to see you this upset and not being able to help." Taehyung ran his fingers through his hair before sighing heavily and pulling Jimin into his lap.

" I know, I just miss her," Jimin mumbled as he curls up further in Taehyung's chest.

"I miss her too, baby. How about after dinner, we send her a text to see how she's doing?"

"I guess we can do that," Jimin relents as he allows himself to melt under Taehyung's hands as he rubs the smooth skin of his lower back. Taehyung presses a kiss on his boyfriend's forehead before setting him back down on the couch. He grabs the empty bowl and takes it to the kitchen, where he rinses it before he checks on their dinner.

Just as Taehyung is closing the oven door, his boyfriend's scream from the other room startles him. He doesn't waste a moment as he runs to check on Jimin, his heart pounding in his chest and his blood rushing in his ears.

"What?! What?!" Taehyung asks hysterically as he inspects Jimin, who is clutching his phone to his chest before he shows it to Tae. Taehyung is perplexed but takes the phone anyway to see what made his boyfriend nearly give him a heart attack.

On the screen is a message from you to the two of them. Taehyung takes a few seconds to read your message, asking how they are and if they'd like to meet up sometime because you missed them.

"Do you think you can handle seeing her?" Tae asks his boyfriend who sucks in a breath but ultimately ends up shrugging.

Before Taehyung can say anything else, his phone began ringing, and he becomes nervous when he sees your face light up on his screen. He takes a second to answer it, putting it on speaker so his boyfriend can hear you as well.

"Hello?" Your voice sends shivers down Jimin's spine as he pulls his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them before his chin rests on his arm.

"Hey, Y/n," Taehyung is the first to greet you, followed by Jimin.

"I just called to say I miss you both and maybe sending a text message wasn't the best way to do so, but I also didn't just want to show up out of the blue invited. I know we said we'd be friends and I know I haven't put any effort toward it, but I thought it would be best for us to have some time and space away from each other. I know a few weeks isn't enough, but I just... I just wanted to say that I miss my best friends. I never intended to cause either of you any pain and I hope you can forgive me and that we can be friends again." Both men listen to you and you bite your lip as you finish rambling, your cheeks flushing with heat as you realize you never gave them a chance to interrupt.

" We miss you too, Y/n. There are no hard feelings on my part, we knew what this was." Taehyung speaks up as Jimin nods along in silence.

"We just wanted to give you some space," Jimin chimes in weakly and your heart shrivels up in your chest as you blink back the tears threatening to fall.

"Jimin…" his name rolls off your tongue painfully sullen, making Jimin wince.

"Don't worry about me, Y/n. I'll be okay, I just miss you and this fucking sucks but I'll be okay and we'll be best friends again." Jimin forces himself to smile despite you not being able to see it but you can tell by his tone that he's definitely not okay. How do you admit that you're suffering too? That maybe you made a mistake? That your attraction with Jungkook is nothing more than lust? Or is it? You're so confused and you don't know what to do and the only thing holding you down to earth is Namjoon’s grip on your hand and you swear if he lets you go, you'd spiral into despair and perish in your own dark thoughts.

"Can I see you soon?" Namjoon gives you a reassuring squeeze as your voice trembles once you ask the question. It’s silent on the other line for much longer than you'd like, so you mentally prepare yourself for their rejection, only it doesn't come.

"Yeah, yeah, we'd like to see you," Jimin states as he plays with his pajama sleeves out of nervousness.

"We can probably get together this weekend. Maybe for lunch? We can start slow and see how this goes," Taehyung sighs as he runs his hands through his hair, tugging at the roots to allow himself some sort of release from the emotional turmoil he's currently experiencing.

"Yeah, that sounds good. Slow sounds good," you repeat as you give Namjoon a squeeze, a small smile on your lips.

Before anything else can be said, the timer on the oven goes off and Taehyung is grateful for the distraction.

"That's the oven, we gotta go, but we'll text you the details for lunch," Taehyung states hurriedly, wanting nothing more than to get off the phone.

"Sounds good, see you then." With that said, the conversation ends as does the call. Taehyung finally feels like he can breathe again and he pulls Jimin into a hug, his lips brushing Jimin's for a moment before he takes his hand and leads him to the kitchen, where he takes their dinner out of the oven.

"Are you okay about going to lunch with her?" Tae asks as he sits on a stool beside Jimin.

"Yes, I think I can handle lunch. We promised to be friends. I can do this, Tae. If we need to start from the ground up once again, then that's what we'll do."

"I'm proud of you, Minnie. We just need to get through this hard part before we can ease into our friendship once again. I know we can do it. I believe in us. I believe in you, Minnie." Jimin blushes at his boyfriend's words and for the first time since the breakup, he feels like he can finally see you once again. He finally has the strength to have you in front of him again and he knows it won't be easy but he made a promise to be friends and he damn well intended to keep his promise.

Best friends forever meant best friends forever, and he was ready to see it through.

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#kpopwonderlandtag #bangtanarmynet #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfic #jungkook x reader #vmin x reader #bts open relationship #jimin x reader #bts angst #taehyung x reader #the roommate jjk

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

18 (“i need your help.”) and 25 (“you have to stay quiet, can you do that baby?”) for mafia!chanyeol

Warnings: unprotected sex, mentions of violence, dire situations, pretty big angst really

Word Count: 1672

A/N: I am not sure if reader is the same in my Junmyeon MafiaAU Drabble, but I’m thinking yes: read it here

You don't know how you got here, exactly, being caged in by the big arms of The Mastiff of the Kim family mafia in the guest bedroom closet of your house, with him holding a hand over your mouth, looking down into your eyes.

You suppose it started with your teenage brother becoming a petty thug, and you following him around, trying to keep him out of trouble.

It started with that fucking pink suit Kim Junmyeon had been wearing at the restaurant when you were caught trying to pull your brother out of the kitchen with him hissing at you to go away.

A year later, Junmyeon has barely spoken to you in weeks, out of town for some shady business he won't talk about, and The Mastiff has been assigned to protect you.

Up until today, "protection" has been Park Chanyeol sleeping on the couch of the house Junmyeon bought you, feet hanging off one side, staying inside with you playing card games and his easy laugh when you manage to win at poker every time, his flushed cheeks when you come out of your room in a negligee and robe, how he sputters when you wink at him.

Today, there's something different in his eyes, something panicked and wild when he hears the slightest click at your front door, something you'd have passed off as the wind. He yanks your hand and when you protest he huffs and throws you over his shoulder.

While you're still stunned he carries you into the guest room closet and sits you down with a quiet, "I need your help."

You look up at him quizzically as he places his hand over your mouth.

He leans down to put his mouth right next to your ear, speaking softly, his bass voice making your heart race with fear and.... something else.

"You have to stay quiet. Can you do that for me, baby?'

Blood rushes to your face at the pet name, but you nod, and he slowly lowers his hand from your mouth to your waist.

He's got a finger over his mouth to shush you, and his face is so close to yours and you want him, you realize, for the first time. You want him and your head knows he's off limits, anyone is, you'll be killed just for the betrayal even if your boyfriend barely noticed you were alive anymore. But your heart....

He's staring down into your eyes and thinking there might be no way out of this, this might be it for both of you, and he'll shield you until he's riddled with bullets but he can't stop it. He's looking at your mouth and fighting the urge to kiss you and for what?

For honor among thieves and gangsters? To protect you in a world where you're already in deep with the most dangerous man in Seoul?

If he's honest, it's because he's scared you'll push him away, more afraid of that than the men stalking through the house, than their crowbars and bullets.

"Oh, fuck it," he breathes out in a low hiss, and ducks his head to kiss you, hard.

You break apart, trying to control your breathing.

Chanyeol's got this grin on his face, and it's wicked, more wicked than you would've thought capable of this sweet, silly man who'd been your guard for the last month.

"You're crazy," you hiss, but your eyes are big with wonder, looking up at him like he hung the moon, and he's drunk on it.

There are men coming to kill you, coming to kill him but he'd be damned if he'd go without fighting for you. They'd have to rip you from him.

You hear footsteps, slow and heavy and you can't help burying your face in his chest, fingernails digging into his wide shoulders in panic.

You can hear his breathing, slow and steady, right at your ear and it calms you just a bit.

"No one's here. We got the wrong address or something." You hear a gruff voice say.

"Did you check everywhere?"

"Man, you think The Mastiff is hiding in the linen closet with Junmyeon's chick? He couldn't fit!"

There's laughter and wildly, you choke back a laugh yourself because he barely fits, crouched over, one shoulder on each wall of the narrow closet.

He waits a full five minutes after he hears the car outside crank up, counting seconds in his head, before he opens the door.

You're shaking with adrenaline and fear and he looks down at you, concerned.

"Hey, baby...I mean, Y/n...are you okay? Do you need to sit down? I can call Jun-"

You cut him off by leaping into his arms, catching his mouth with yours, teeth gnashing together in your hurry.

He stumbles backward in surprise, chuckling a little but then hefts you up by your thighs and ass, a low moan rumbling in his chest as you kiss the base of his throat.

There's a part of him that's panicking, knowing he's signing his death warrant and yours with every touch of your skin but he can't care, not now when your hands are spreading across his chest, popping buttons off his button-up.

He sits down on the edge of the bed with you still in his arms and you're still wearing your negligee, ripping off the robe and pulling your breasts out instead of tugging off the nightie, impatient, needy, already rolling your hips against the hardness in his slacks.

"Sh-shit," he stutters out, looking from your face to your tits and back again. "I'm just a big dumb thug, baby, but I'm so grateful you want me. Want to be good to you."

His words are simple but it's fire in your veins, the beat of your heart and maybe it's the adrenaline or the way he looked at you in the mornings when you got up yawning with bed hair, his soft smile when he said good morning, how he always had your coffee made, two sugars no cream, just how you like it.

"You're always good to me, Yeol. You always take care of me. Take care of me now, yeah? I need you."

His breath catches in his throat because it's perfect, you're perfect, and for months he's been wishing he was the one buying you all those expensive clothes and jewelry, he wouldn't ignore your calls when you were lonely late at night.

He flips you over onto the bed, pinning you to the bed with one huge hand on your throat, but it's gentle, thumb caressing your collarbone.

"Gonna take care of you, baby, don't worry your pretty little head," he mumbles, but it's fierce, the way he looks at you, the way his other hand bunches up your nightie, one long finger sliding against you and finding you slick and hot.

He groans, wondering if he'd even last if he slid inside you this instant, heart pounding, cock achingly hard against his thigh.

When he moves to kiss your stomach, though, you take his face in your hands, shaking your head.

"No. Need you inside me, Yeol. You make me so wet, I just want you to fuck me, please?"

There's a whine to your tone that makes his mouth go dry, he's fumbling at his pants like a teenager.

When he finally does slide inside you, his head goes fuzzy like he's had one too many scotch on the rocks, like he's been hit in the head with a baseball bat like he was last summer, leaving a found raised scar on his temple and a plague of monthly migraines.

He's committing suicide, being inside you like this, fucking the boss's girlfriend, betraying his brother, but if Junmyeon had given a damn about you he wouldn't have left, would he? Wouldn't have left you here for the wolves to come take you.

Wasn't he giving you to him, after all, asking him to protect you?

Chanyeol had flushed down to his chest when Junmyeon had put a hand on his shoulder.

"I know you'll look out for her. I know how you feel about her. You won't let them take her."

There was something in Junmyeon's usually stoic face, something pained and not quite angry but... bitter.

And that was that, a briefcase of cash and a burner phone for his trouble. All he'd gotten since were weekly texts: All good?

Everything had been, until today, until Park Jinyoung's men had heard about the Kim boss's girl, staying all alone, and come up to find you.

You arch your back, heels digging into the bed, calling out his name, and he wouldn't care if Kim Junmyeon himself walked in right now, he'd still stay inside you, looking down into your lust blown eyes, kissing the line of your throat.

How did Junmyeon do it? How did he leave you after being inside you like this, after your nails dug into his back, after you sucked a mark onto his throat like you were doing to Chanyeol right now?

"Please," you gasp out. "Please don't stop, make me come, please, Yeol-"

He lets out a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl, sitting up on his knees to fuck you deeper, placing one calloused thumb against your clit, applying just the right of pressure.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you chant out, and he loves your dirty mouth, can't help leaning down to kiss it, thumb vibrating against you and when you clench around him he almost yelps at how good it feels, his balls tightening as he releases what seems like a month's worth of cum into you.

After, when you're both showered and lying together in the guest bed, your voice is trembling when you speak, your fingers making circles on his chest and stomach.

"What are we gonna do, Yeol?"

"I'll protect you. Even from him, if I have to," he says fiercely, and pulls you close, arms locked tight around you like a shield.

#ksmutclub #1k words #exo imagine #chanyeol imagine #park chanyeol x reader #chanyeol x reader #drabble game 3

[mrs-hollandstan]

Fratboy!Tom forgetting that he had set up with the reader to go the cinema to watch The Lion King but he totally forgot it and went out with some other girl, then reader is waiting for him on the line to watch the movie but Tom doesn't show up and she decides to watch the movie anyways bc she's been waiting so long to watch this and gets extremely sad at Tom and she decides to simply ignore him after that? Or they can have a fight about how he's forgetting about her lately (sorry it's long)

Oof. De angst.

[[MORE]]

The idea of dating Tom was something that you were afraid of. Sure, he was perfect and all but he was in a frat and the boys in his frat were the douchey type. When things started to get serious between the two of you, and he asked you on a movie date to see Lion King, you were giddy to hang out with him. That was until he stood you up. You'd waited outside the theater, both tickets in hand, through most of the trailers, sitting in your seat with an abandoned one beside you. 

You prayed for it not to bother you, but you couldn't help but tear up a little at the thought of finally finding someone and then being stood up by someone that you were so crazy about. You found yourself unfocused on the film at points, thinking about the spry, energetic boy that had stolen and then crushed your heart with so much ease and you knew he would only do so much as to brush it off with a shrug of his shoulders like nothing had ever happened. If you talked to him, you talked to him, if you didn't, he had other women to fuck around with. 

Or so you thought. 

You attended the weekly frat parties like always, with your roommates, and Tom was at all of them. There were a few times he tried to approach you, smug smile on his face until you dipped away to fetch shots or hide away in a room away from him. He knew after the third party that you were avoiding him and he had every intention of approaching you about it.  He was a little hurt. So when he tried to approach you sat at the side of the pool in your bikini and you stood and ducked away, he followed, unknowing to you until the door to the pool house was pulled open and you, pulling on your bathing suit cover, turned and started, 

"I'm just getting-" You pause, locking eyes with Tom who steps inside with a tight lipped look and closes the door behind him, 

"Hi. I uhh... I wanted to see what was wrong with you?" 

"Nothing, I'm fine. I have nothing to say to you." You hurry, curt, and straight to the point. He nods, running his finger along the rim of his cup as you cross your arms,

"Sure, yeah, so you just casually avoid me for three consecutive parties  because you're fine, especially after we made out during spin the bottle and we've been making da- oh my god, that's why." Tom rambles, eyes going wide. He sets his drink down. He wipes his hands over his face, 

"I stood you up. We had plans to go to a movie and I stood you up. Uhm... okay, w-we can go see it now. I uhh... I'll pay for everythi-" 

"I saw it alone." You interrupt, leaning against the table behind you, feeling the nagging of tears in your eyes again as you avoid his, 

"Oh." He speaks up quietly, guilt eating at him at the idea of you dressed up for him, watching the movie you were both supposed to see, alone. He swallows before he sighs and begins to near you, 

"I am so sorry darling." He says softly. You look around,

"You're not. If you were you wouldn't have forgotten about me in the first place." You say, eyes stinging. He sighs, reaching out to play with the hem of your cover, 

"I am though. You... you have to remember that I'm like a nine year old. There's so many things going through my mind that I don't know what sort of fucking plans I've made." He mutters. He shakes his head when you lookup, avoiding your eyes this time, 

"I get it though, I get it if you don't wanna see me again but... I do care about you." He says. Staring at his beautiful face for a moment, you lick your lips when he looks at you, 

"That's just the thing, I'm fucking obsessed with you and I can't... I don't wanna stop but it fucking hurts knowing I'm that forgettable to you." His own heart hurts as crystalline tears roll down your cheeks,

"You're not... you're not, angel. You're not forgettable. I'm a fucking dumbass. Come here." He rambles again, wrapping his arms around you. You lay your head against his shoulder, sniffling as Tom rubs up between your shoulders, his head holding yours against his neck. He sighs 

"I'm no fucking better than any guy out there. I'm such a fucking dick." He mutters. 

"That's the thing. You're the most adorable fucking guy around here but you try too hard to be like your asshole brothers. You are so, so sweet and that's what sucks is that I think you're the most amazing guy ever but... apparently you don't feel the same about me." You say lowly, looking down at your hands when you lean back. He takes hold of them, holding them as gently as he can in case you want to pull away, 

"I do. I'm fucking stupid but you... you're like the only girl that I've ever actually... followed around like this. I-I don't want us to just... go by the wayside. I wanna give it another go and... I completely understand if you wanna fuckinf continue to ignore me and avoid me because I deserve it." He says, moving your hands about. When he looks up, you lick your lips and shake your head, 

"You're gonna have to earn it. I can't... I can't just pretend that it didn't happen and it's fine." You say. Tom nods along, 

"No, no, of course not. I wouldn't expect you to do so. I can handle that. But uhm... I'll do this, we can walk out here holding hands and everything, make sure everyone sees that as for right now, until you're done with me, I'm yours. I'll follow you around all night, loosely of course, and we'll go from there. We'll take it at your pace. Slow as you want." He says, holding your hand in his. You follow him out, back into the party, giving his hand a squeeze when people give you curious looks, your roommates standing around and in the pool with wide eyed stares. You swallow when Tom releases your hand, sitting on the end of a lawn chair and pulling you into his lap. He glances up at the girls like nothing has happened as you look around the party, more and more eyes averted to you and Tom. And sure, even though he has a weird way of showing it, the new found dedication is a trait that you love to see in him. It makes him a better person and draws your mind back to his sweet, beautiful face. So for now, you're rolling with it.

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #my writing #tom holland imagines #tom holland fan fic #tom holland one shot #tom holland gif #frat boy!tom #frat!boy!tom #fratboy!tom