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puck-luck · 3 days

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one bed trope by design | dawson mercer

warnings: fwb but unspokenly more, eldest daughter vibes in the first paragraph, teasing & annoying your partner, pet names, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, heavyyyy making out, dirty talk (it’s pretty sweet, actually), possessive!dawson, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, cockwarming, whimpering man (slay), begging (only a little), mentions/allusions to consensual somnophilia, and a little bit of a fixation on spit (as i am wont to do) pairing: dawson mercer x reader summary: the one when dawson comes over to build a bedframe for your guest room, demands multiple rewards, and pouts when you try to make him test it out alone. he ends up getting everything he wanted, though. wc: 4636

You have a bone to pick with anyone who writes furniture-building instruction manuals. After all the years of “building things” (holding flashlights, standing aimlessly for support, fetching beers) with your dad, you would think that you’d be able to build a bedframe. You would think that you could read the directions, screw in some nails, glue some pegs into place, and your guest room would be all set. In another world, you’re flying through this process and the bed’s already done. Here, in this world, the real world, all you’ve done is sort all of your supplies and read the first page of directions and it’s been shit. The wording is unclear, the pictures don’t make any sense, the bags of supplies aren’t clearly labeled in conjunction with the guide in the manual, and you’re at your wits end.

So you call Daws.

Your best friend in the world, Dawson Mercer, has always been skilled with his hands. Never mind the double entendre, you’ve seen how deftly Daws can handle a stick and a puck, so he is surely able to handle a screwdriver and a drill.

In fact, continuing with the entendres, you know Dawson can handle a drill. On top of being your best friend in the world, you two had started hooking up in his second season at New Jersey, after you’d gotten a job in New York City and relocated. With just thirty minutes between you two and a lot of pent up feelings on both sides, it was only a matter of time until one of you broke and jumped the other. It ended up being him, but it was your fault.

It was a late night and you’d been up working on a proposal for your boss. It was well past midnight and you had work the following day, but you were in a groove and you couldn’t stop until the task was done. It had already been a tough day and you started to feel better when your work began to flow, but then you forgot a word and could not find it no matter what thesaurus you used or what questions you googled. You knew it was the perfect word for this proposal and it sounded so intelligent in your head, but you could not fucking remember it. It might’ve been the sleep deprivation of it all, but this sent you over the edge and before you knew it, you were calling Dawson and tearfully explaining your situation. He couldn’t understand you through the hysteria and was at your door as soon as possible, scooping you up and taking your computer away. You had explained everything again through your tears and he had held you in his arms, tucking your head away in his neck so you could hide from the world. When your breath evened out, Daws had registered the flutter of your eyelashes against his pulse and couldn’t stop himself from kissing you. It had been sweet and it was a long time coming. Things escalated that night about as far as you could go for the first time, with Dawson treating you like something that would break if he held you too tightly or looked at you too long. You both were shy but cared so much for each other that it just felt right.

You hadn’t defined it in the year since, but you know and Dawson knows that there is something special between you. You’re best friends and maybe, one day, you’d both be ready to commit to more.

For now, though, Dawson is the guy who’s going to sit in your guest bedroom and build your guest bed and maybe you’ll repay him if you felt like it.

Dawson comes over as soon as you call and walks into your apartment sopping wet. When he walks into your space, he shakes like a wet dog and you shriek. He gives you a toothy grin, your heart fluttering with fondness like it always does when you see the space between his teeth. “It’s raining out there,” he says unnecessarily, walking over to plant a quick kiss on your lips. “Where’s this bed you need your big, strong man to build, baby?”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “Big, strong man,” you mock. “Where’s that guy? I don’t see a big, strong man here.”

Daws pinches your hip for your comment, but it doesn’t really hurt.

“I’m turning my office into a guest bedroom,” you continue. You lean up and give Daws another little peck. “The bed is in there.” You reach around and give him a pat on the butt. “Go on, get in there.”

“You’re not going to help me?” Dawson calls over his shoulder, teasing you as he walks down the hall towards his daunting task.

“Darling, you’ll just get distracted by me,” you reply. “I’ll be in here if you need me.” You take a seat on your couch and pick up the book you’ve been reading. You drape a blanket over your legs and lean back against the arm of the sofa, finding your bookmark and opening the book to that page.

You can hear the rain growing heavier as you continue to read, as well as the sounds of Dawson putting the new bedframe together. He’s making quick work of it and takes a break at his self-proclaimed halfway point. He wanders into the living room and washes his hands in your kitchen sink before joining you on the couch. He sneaks under the blanket and lays between your legs, resting his head on your stomach. His hand reaches up, comes out from under the blanket, and rests on your chest. He palms your breast, just holding the weight of it in his hand. You place your bookmark and close your book, setting it down on the coffee table to your left. You lift the blanket and make eye contact with Dawson. You can’t help but think of your friend’s cat from university, who used to cuddle on your lap under the blanket just like this.

“Hi,” Dawson greets, smiling wide.

“Hi, sweet,” you reply and card your fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face. “Have you given up on that bed yet? It’s impossible, isn’t it?”

“Mmm, no,” Dawson hums, purring like your friend’s cat used to when you pet him. He pushes into your hand just the same. “Just taking a break with my favorite girl.”

“Sweet talker,” you tease. Your hand moves to pinch his cheek like a grandmother would. “You’re trying to get in good with me, huh?”

“You always assume I’ve got an ulterior motive,” Dawson complains. “Maybe I just want to hang out with you.”

You give him an unimpressed look with a tilt of your head.

Dawson snickers quietly, burying his head in your stomach. “No, you’re right.” He kisses your tummy, just next to your belly button. “I always have an ulterior motive.”

You spread your legs a little wider, allowing Dawson to fit his shoulders between your thighs comfortably. “What do you have in mind?”

“A snack,” Dawson replies in a cheeky voice, the smirk evident in his tone before he ghosts a fingertip under the hemline of your sleep shorts.

Because you’re a brat, you twist away from Daws. You move to get up from the couch. “Shall I make you something?” You ask.

Daws holds you down with his full weight, wrapping his arms around you until you’re effectively immobilized. You can’t see him anymore, having dropped the blanket when you moved to get up. “No,” he whines, drawing out the word and pulling you to him. He bites the side of your hip gently through your shorts. “Stay here, you’ve got what I need.”

“What you need,” you repeat, smiling to yourself. This is the side of Dawson that rarely anyone gets to see, even though he’s a happy-go-lucky guy most of the time. No one gets to see Dawson all whiny and eager to please, happy to get himself off by just getting his mouth on you. He’s sated like this, happy to stay between your legs for hours and make you come time after time, until you’re oversensitive and pushing him away. You’re happy to let him indulge most of the time, but that bed is still only halfway built. “Can you make it quick?” You ask. “Need you to finish building that bed for me.”

Dawson presses a kiss to your core, making you shiver. He hums in agreement. “Can we christen it after I’m done?”

You giggle and swat the back of his head under the blanket. “You wish.”

Dawson hooks his fingers in the waistband of your shorts and drags them down, removing them delicately and placing them on the ground next to him. He kisses down your leg as he does it and it’s even more arousing than it normally is, given that you can’t see him under the blanket and can barely guess his next move. “I do wish,” he agrees before moving onto your panties. “Can I earn it?”

“You can sleep in there by yourself and let me know how it is, since all my guests will be on their lonesome,” you say. You inhale sharply when Dawson dives in and flicks your clit with his tongue. “I think that would be more effective.”

Dawson bites the side of your thigh sharply and makes you jump. “Don’t wanna sleep alone,” he complains. “You’re mean to me.” He licks over your folds again, shifting to use both hands to spread you open so he can begin to eat you out properly.

“Fuck, Daws,” you groan, throwing your head back. You take a breath before continuing. “If I’m so mean to you, why am I letting you eat your snack? I could tell you no at any moment and make you go back to the guest room and work some more before kicking you out of my apartment and sending you home.”

“You’re talking a lot for someone who’s supposed to be enjoying herself,” Dawson mutters. You can hear his pout, not needing to see it to know that he’s annoyed that he hasn’t rendered you speechless.

“Maybe you need to do better,” you breathe out, grinding down on the fingers that are slowly tracing your entrance, begging for them to enter you without actually saying it.

Dawson growls at that, taking it like a challenge and dipping his fingers into you and flicking his tongue against your clit quickly, giving everything he can to bring you to your peak.

You moan, reaching under the blanket to thread your fingers in Dawson’s hair. You tug at it and he moans, the vibrations making you shiver and bringing you just that much closer to your orgasm. “Dawsy,” you breathe out. “More.”

“Not much more to give, baby,” Dawson mumbles against your pussy, but pistons his fingers into you more quickly. “Giving you all I’ve got right now. Trying my best to make you feel good, sweet girl.”

“Feels so good,” you reassure him. “Need something else, need a little more.”

Dawson adds another finger, stretching you. He reaches up and pulling the blanket down so he’s not covered anymore. You can see your wetness dripping down his fingers and onto his wrist as he continues to move them inside you. You grip his hair as he brings his other thumb to your clit, rubbing in rapid circles. He spreads his fingers and leans in, doing his best to lick between them and get his tongue inside you. He looks up through his eyelashes at you when he does it and it’s that image, his wide eyes filled with so much admiration for you and determination to prove that he can make you feel so, so good, that makes you clench down and let your release wash over you.

Dawson continues to thrust his fingers into you through your climax, mouthing over your clit and suckling at it until you’re squirming and panting. You pull him up your body by his hair, needing his mouth on yours. You keen into his mouth as he speeds his fingers up again. “Daws,” you gasp.

“Baby,” he replies, then kisses you again. He slips his tongue into your mouth and you two make out, movements lazy. He continues to finger you through it, unwilling (maybe even unable) to pull out of your wet heat just yet. He’s laying on top of you at this point and the weight of him is wonderful, always comforting you like nothing else could.

You kiss for what feels like ages, just feeling each other. Dawson grinds his hips against your leg, pressing his hardness into you, but making no move to do anything about it. It’s lovely, this moment, and comfortable like you two had been in love for years and you could do this every day. In the least cliché way, you knew that Dawson was your soulmate, the person you were meant to find in any universe at any time. He wasn’t yours, but he was.

“Love you, Dawsy,” you tell him between kisses.

He hums in agreement.

“Can you go finish building my bed now?” You ask, your one-track mind itching to get Dawson back on task. You really wanted that bed to be finished today, just so you didn’t have to think about it anymore.

Dawson pulls away and glares down at you. “Here I am, making out with you with my fingers inside your pretty pussy, and you’re going to make me work?” He demands.

You giggle, leaning up to plant a wet kiss, a real smacker, on his cheek. “Yeah,” you say, shit eating grin on your face when you settle back onto the couch cushions. “Go on.”

Reluctantly, Dawson slides his fingers out of you and gets off the couch, licking his fingers clean and adjusting himself in his sweatpants. “So mean,” he reminds you with a cutting glance before he disappears back down the hallway and into the guest room.

You return to your book. “Holler when you’re done!” You yell to Dawson.

“I don’t know why I ever do anything for you,” Dawson replies, voice floating down the hall with ire.

You laugh out loud, loud enough for him to hear, and get comfortable with your book. You read for probably another hour before Dawson summons you to the guest room to inspect his handiwork.

When you round the doorway, Dawson’s eyes grow wide, noticing that you never put your panties or shorts back on. He’s standing next to the bed as you approach and he licks his lips. “You’re sure we can’t christen my handiwork?” He asks again.

“No,” you insist. “Merc, you already got what you needed.” You roll your eyes and flip the bird at your best friend, chastising him for being insufferable in his desire for you. “You’re such a horndog.”

Dawson shrugs. “Can you blame me? I’ve seen you how beautiful you are naked, I’ve heard how pretty you sound when I’m fucking you, and I’ve been loving you since forever. Just because we’re not dating doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to ask. You’re lucky I ask because you know I could pick you up and take you, and you’d love it”

“Do you want me to call you a wah-mbulance?” You retort, folding your arms over your chest. You glare at him with an eyeful of reproach, but he’s right. He’s taken you like that before and it’s been incredible, something you’ll even ask him for on occasion.

“Want you to let me fuck you,” he replies in the same tone, mirroring your actions.

You two stare at each other before bursting out in laughter. You walk over and loop your arms around Dawson’s neck, pressing your body against his and giving him a chaste kiss. His hands rest on your hips, holding you tightly. He kisses you again.

“Go to bed, Merc,” you say when you finally pull away. You step back. “Let me know how the bed feels.”

Dawson bids you goodnight and turns around. You walk to the door. You leave the room and make it all the way to your bedroom before you hear a crash and rush back in.

Dawson is smiling, proud of himself as you take in the lopsided bed. One of the legs of the frame has been hastily removed and if you’re not mistaken, you can see it peeking out from where Dawson’s arms are crossed behind his back. “Oh no,” Dawson says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “It broke. I guess I have to sleep with you.”

Your mouth drops open in disbelief and you let out a laugh. “Dawson!” You exclaim, still giggling. “What’s the matter with you?”

Dawson shrugs. “Well, I can’t sleep on a broken bed,” he tells you. “That would be unsafe.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that.” You play along, a small smile still written across your face.

Dawson takes a step forward and bats his eyelashes at you. “I guess I have to sleep in yours.”

“You’re insatiable,” you tell him. You turn on your heel and leave the room, listening for the clatter of the leg of the bed before Dawson’s footsteps trail after you. Both sounds come, just as you expected, and Dawson’s hands find your hips again. He walks with you, pressed along your back, lips attached to the back of your neck.

“I want you,” he teases, his voice light and melodic in your ear. He reaches his hand up and traces your neck. “Don’t I get a reward for building furniture for you?”

“You already got a snack.”

“Ugh, but then you took it away from me after I made you come,” he complains. “And you’re teasing me, not putting your panties back on before checking my work. It’s a little slutty, baby. Is that what you wear for all the people that come to work in your house?”

Now in your bedroom, Dawson turns you around and walks you back until your knees hit the edge of your bed. You fall down onto the mattress and bring Dawson down with you. He reaches up your shirt and grabs a handful of your tit, gripping it in a way that directly contrasts how he was just holding it on the couch.

“No bra either,” he notes, nuzzling into your neck and breathing you in. “You give all these workers quite a show.”

“You know I only dress like this for you, Dawson,” you reply.

“Wish you’d commit to the bit and just be naked all the time.” He kisses your shoulder, other hand sliding up your shirt to grasp your other breast. He kneads them both, rolling your nipples between his calloused fingers.

“Wish you’d take an article of clothing off,” you retort.

“I’ll take it all off for you if you want me to, baby, just say the word,” Dawson promises. “Can I take your shirt off? Wanna get my mouth on these pretty tits.”

“Only if you take yours off too.”

Dawson doesn’t waste a second, pushing up to stand over you. He grabs the back of the neck of his shirt and pulls it over his head, revealing his muscular body to you. His chain falls between his collarbones beautifully and it makes your breath catch in your throat. He unbuckles his belt and pops the button on his jeans, unzipping them and pulling them down his legs, leaving him just in his boxer-briefs. The dark gray briefs leave nothing to the imagination and you bite your lip, gazing at the wet patch on the front of the briefs, right at the tip of his dick.

You reach up and Dawson grabs your hands, pulling you into a sitting position. You raise your arms and he kneels between your legs, pushing your shirt up and bunching the fabric in his hands before he pulls it over your head and reveals your body to him.

Dawson kisses up your stomach, slowly rising from his knees. He lifts you up and gently places you down so your head is on the pillows at the top of your bed. He then leaves a trail of kisses down your neck, shoulder, collarbone, and sternum until he makes his way to your breast.

He takes your nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue over it. He grinds down on the bed, rolling your other nipple between his fingers again. You moan and once he’s determined that your breast has received enough attention from his mouth, he switches to the other one. It’s slow and sensual, with Dawson taking his time and savoring the moment and the sounds that he pulls from your lips.

“Dawson.” You find your voice, signaling to him that it’s time to move on.

“Mmm?” He continues to suckle on your chest, leaving a hickey on the side of your boob now.

“Fuck me,” you say. “Come up here and fuck me.”

“Yeah?” Dawson asks, pulling away from you to grin at you. “Need my cock, baby?”

You pretend to think. “Need is an exaggeration,” you tell him.

Dawson scoffs and leans down to kiss you, lining his cock up with your entrance. “No pussy gets this wet if ‘need is an exaggeration,’ sweet girl.”

You whine as he sinks into you and he lets out a breath that sounds like a groan, his head falling with the sensation. He presses his forehead against yours and bucks into you, holding back to take in the sensation of your heat around him. He always gets pussy drunk on you and goes too fast, loving the way you squeeze him and milk him for every drop. It’s only so long before he does it again and starts to really fuck into you, but he’s intoxicated now by the slow drag of your walls against his length.

“So warm, so wet,” Dawson groans. “All for me.”

“All yours,” you agree. You close your eyes and kiss Dawson, swallowing the moan that comes from his lips at your words.

His hips start to pick up speed. “Yeah,” he says. “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

Dawson’s hips move with desperation. It’s the easiest way to bring him to his climax, you’ve learned over the past year. He’s possessive over you and although you’re not boyfriend-girlfriend, he knows that you belong to him. When you admit it, when he hears those words come from your mouth, it squeezes at his heart the same way you clench down on his cock when he hits that spot inside of you.

“Dawsy,” you breathe out, clutching at his shoulders. “Feels so good.”

With every thrust of his hips, he brings you closer to your second orgasm of the night. He thrusts forward and sucks at your neck, leaving wet kiss after wet kiss. His saliva cools on your neck as his wet, hot pants leave his lips. He grunts and kisses you deeply, his tongue filling your mouth as deliciously as his cock is filling your pussy. He pulls back and looks down, watching his cock disappear into your heat.

“Fuck me,” he whispers, pressing a hand against your stomach and feeling himself inside of you.

A wanton moan leaves your mouth, back arching from the pressure. Your mouth hangs open and Dawson leans up, biting your bottom lip between his teeth.

“Feeling good, honey?” He asks quietly. “Love hearing you.”

“Yes, yes,” you chant, and you let out a squeal when Dawson reaches up to give your nipple a sharp pinch. “God!” Your stomach turns, so close to climaxing. With every light touch of his fingers and the consistent kiss of his cock to the spot inside you that makes you see stars, you inch toward your peak.

“Just me,” he says, cheeky but like it’s an afterthought. He soothes the pinch with a kiss before leaning back up to kiss you. His hips stutter and Dawson groans. “Gonna come, baby,” he says. “Gonna come with me?”

“Always,” you whine, voice high in the back of your throat but sounding far away, like Dawson’s fucked your soul right out of your body.

“Come,” Dawson breathes out, hips stuttering as he moves them with abandoned fervor, chasing a high that’s just out of reach. “Come, baby, need to feel you. Need you to come on my cock before I do, please,” he begs. “Fuck!”

You can’t control the scream that bubbles in your throat as you let go, juices absolutely soaking Dawson’s cock inside you and the covers beneath you. It wasn’t often that he made you squirt, but tonight was one of those nights. Your release burst out of you like a dam and left you completely boneless on the bed.

It only took a few more thrusts for Dawson to whimper and shoot off inside of you. You’re like a vice around him, clenching down so hard that it’s almost difficult to thrust in and out of you. “Sweetheart,” Dawson whines, voice dripping with emotion. “So tight, fuck, love your pussy.”

He collapses onto you, his head on your chest, his hands on your waist, his weight pressing you into the bed the same way he trapped you onto the couch earlier in the night.

You trace the lines of his face with your thumb as your breath syncs with his and you both come down from your climaxes.

Dawson hasn’t pulled out yet, his cock still half-hard inside of you. He moves his hips slowly, fucking his cum into you at an excruciating pace.

You plant a kiss on Dawson’s head and hug him to your body. “We should probably get up, Daws.”

Dawson shakes his head. “Gonna fall asleep right here.”

You let out a chuckle. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Dawson looks up at you with tired eyes. “Gonna keep my cock inside you all night, wake you up by making you come again.”

You let out a breath at that, clenching down on him subconsciously. You can’t help it. He’s so honest and he’s unabashed about how he wants you.

He smiles, almost devilish. “You like that idea, huh?”

“Gimme a kiss,” you request, puckering your lips and waiting for him to come to you.

He does easily, unashamed and eager. “Could kiss you all night long.”

“Don’t, I’m tired.”

“Just think,” Dawson murmurs against your lips. “We could’ve done all of this in your guest bedroom.”

“Well someone broke the bed.”

“I wouldn’t have had to break the bed if you had just slept there with me.”

You two bicker like a married couple before you remove Dawson’s cock yourself and swing your legs over the side of the bed. He trails after you when you head to the bathroom, brushing his teeth with your toothbrush as you use the toilet. It’s all very domestic and you argue with him about the toothbrush, too, because he has his own and knows exactly where it lives (next to yours in the holder). You steal the brush from his mouth and leave him to rinse his mouth of the minty substance. You turn your back to him to hide the satisfied smirk on your face when you pop the toothbrush in your mouth without rinsing it of his germs.

When you make your way back to bed after cleaning yourself up, Dawson lays behind you and plasters himself to your back. He slips his cock back into your heat again and sighs, settling into the comfort of your heat. He presses a kiss to the back of your neck and breathes evenly until he falls asleep. You fall asleep with him, and if Dawson makes good on his promise of fucking you awake, that’s nobody’s business but yours.

notes: don't ever put me in a room with dawson mercer because i will make it my mission to stockholm sydrome that boy. welcome to my longest fic yet and man, oh man, did i have fun writing this.

#puck-luck's fics #dawson mercer #dawson mercer x reader #dawson mercer smut #nhl smut #nhl x reader #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #andy writes anything🍄

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simonrillleyyysss · 3 days

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Hi!! Idk if you inbox is open right now, but if they are I am begging on my hands and knees for something involving soft sex with soap and an s/o who’s having period cramps.

I firmly believe that even though he’s usually a bit more rougher with you, he’d literally be the sweetest, constantly asking if your alright and praising you for taking it so well, ignoring the mess that you both were creating; your arousal and blood staining the mattress below. Also think his aftercare would def be the best, cleaning up the sheets, giving you a bath and providing you with water and anything else you need before falling asleep together (I need him so badly ugh- 😩😩😩)

love this anon thank u :3

soap is so tired and guilty listening to your complaints throughout the week, ur tummy hurts, ur boobs hurt..your head hurts, you’re just hurt overall! goddamn eve, why did she have to eat that apple? now his poor doll has to suffer the consequences of her actions.. sigh, he hates listening to you be sore and achey >:((

not to fret, he’s quick to suggest ideas—read up on articles lately while you two were cuddling and sappy, he was meant to be finishing work while you watched your show, head on his shoulder..but he had time to write up reports later, hm?

‘lookie..’

he quickly manuovered your hand onto his chest, lifting your free-ones pointer finger and dragging it along the screen, reading it aloud for you.

‘hai tae’ ease period cramps ae’home. google says..

blah blah…

apply heat tae yer abdomen..

engage in gentle exercise. ...

reach orgasm! see, sohen’ i could do tae help.’

you’re so quick to try and steer him away, trying to convince him it’s unsanitary.. but soon enough you’re convinced, letting him carry you upstairs, tug off your panties and let you get yourself ready, prepped and spread for him on the bed.

unsanitary? more like unholy to him, the way he doesn’t even bother to look at the blood while quickly prepping you with his fingers, making sure you aren’t wincing or in pain(you certainly aren’t.) and gently kisses your tummy while you gasp out and hum, tugging at his hawk.

‘oh—oh, wow. johnny, christ it feels even better than normal.’

‘aye? more?’

‘nhmhhhhmmmm.’

‘mon nai, use yer’ biggirl words.’

‘please.’

as soon as you’re assuring him you’re ready, he’s wiping the blood off of his fingers and stroking his veiny shaft, droplets of precum dripping from his intimidating head, pink and achey, slowly sliding himself into your ready cunny; your brows knitting together. sits for a bit,before placing his hands above your head and gently thrusting into you.

listens to your weak and embarassing cries, moaning and mewling into the thick air, scent of sex and blood twirling around the room, doesn’t take you long to cum, feeling him kiss and knead at your doughy, sore breasts and his cock brushing against your hot walls has you unraveling, back arching, unaware that your expensive sheets were covered in your pleasure and pain.

‘as’it lassie..takin’ me all, tell me if yer’ sore,.’

you’re shaking your head, trying to desperately keep his cock buried inside your hole, the scot above you growling in pleasure as he came inside of you, slowly pulling himself out to look at his masterpiece, thick droplets of white cum now mixing into a pale pink colour, your chest rising and falling with heavy pants.

let’s you do his face mask after your shared bath, massages you and gets you a hot water bottle for your abdomen, makes you watch a cheesy film..

‘if yer’ still sore intha’ mornin’, im’ offering tae help.’

‘it’s fine, johnny..’

‘jest’ use mae’ mouth next time.’

#johnny mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #period sex #soap johnny mactavish smut #johnny soap mctavish x you #johnny mactavish headcanons #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny mactavish smut #soap john mactavish #soap mactavish smut #soap mactavish #soap call of duty #soap mactavish fluff #soap mactavish x you #johnny soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #🎀>soap!

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alllgator-blood · 3 days

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ohh my goodness can you pls pls pls do a brush tour?? i love ur art so so much its so cruncy >:]

Yes I can, I appreciate your interest!! I use paint tool sai 2 which is kind of archaic, but I've been drawing on a wacom pen and touch small + using paint tool sai since 2012 and I'm too stubborn to move onto something better. I actually only use three brushes so I've made a little drawing where I only use one brush per character to show the differences:

Gonna put the screenshots of the brush settings below the cut cause it got longer than I expected:

I drew my three big faves cause frankly I am sick of looking at kallamar and narinder's smug faces lmaoooo ANYWAY. GOING FROM LEFT TO RIGHT, WE HAVE THE CHUNKY BRUSH. I use that brush for messily coloring things in, doing big blocky background shapes, or just adding texture to a drawing. It's my favorite brush to paint with but I have not....finished a painting for this blog yet...

Then for the crunchy brush, it's a tool I use half for lineart and half for coloring. I use it for stuff like changes in fur color/markings, drawing all the lines in the backgrounds I do, and finer details the chunky brush can't handle. It's also the lineart tool I use for my drawings where the lines are all on the inside of the chararacters but not the outside!

As for the smooth brush, this one only ever gets used for lines but it was created when I was so bored of my lineart tool I stopped drawing for a while. I wanted a calligraphy pen and had to work around SAI's limitations, so while it doesn't have that thin-thick angular effect that calligraphy pens have....I manually apply the pressure and it looks passable enough. I hope.

The brush settings are visible in the pics but uNFORTUNATELY I DO *NOT* remember where I got my stupid brush pack from. I literally downloaded the files before I was even a teenager but I *do* remember they're from deviantart. If anyone is for some reason kicking and screaming to acquire this ancient, crusty brush pack I'm sure I could throw it in a google drive

I have other useless information about my process if any of this is remotely helpful: for the anaglyph effect on my lines, I literally take a full 120 seconds to copy+paste two copies of my lineart, color it red and cyan, and then slightly move them up+down beneath the black lineart to get that 3dish effect. My flat backgrounds are just another sai preset texture, usually the checkerboard one cause it's swag. The rest of my brushes are just for utility or to fill in the gaps, that scroll bar leads to a bunch of empty space. They're not worth showing off just because they don't ever get used, or it's just like. The bucket tool. The select tool. A binary pen I never use. And lastly, for my usual lines, I actually go back and mess them up myself to get them to look more chaotic...my lines are usually smooth + even but it's so boring to look at and time consuming that I'm trying to unlearn that.

here's a wip of what my lines USUALLY look like with the smooth brush. You can see for the background I mostly used the chunky brush for shapes and then the crunchy brush for the finer lines! But yeah it takes forever to do smooth lines because I have nerve damage in my arm (it's why my stabilizer is maxed out...) and I refuse to use the line tool. In a professional setting I definitely make sure my lines are polished but this is just my goofy fanart blog and I want everything to look like it's been laced with crack.

I HOPE ANY OF THIS HELPS?? OR JUST SATES YOUR CURIOSITY, I try to not gatekeep the way I do my art so I have literally no secrets tbh

#not sure how to tag this one uhhhhhhhh

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gabby294 · 18 hours

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You Look So Pretty, Pretty Like The Sun - Chapter 2

Buck wiped away the sweat from his forehead on a small towel between his sets. Despite the AC blasting at full power, the gym still felt stiflingly hot. The weights beside him were slightly heavier than what he typically lifted. With the wedding right around the corner, Buck had been making the most of any free time by hitting the gym . And if he harbored a secret desire to look extra good for his date, who could blame him?

Buck knew they were pretty similar in height but he was nearly certain Tommy was actually stronger than him. He attributed it on the Muay Thai. Speaking of Muay Thai, he really should stop imagining Tommy in the ring, his skin glistering, only in a pair of shorts and boxing gloves. His Google search history became much more interesting since they started to hang out.

Buck lifted his phone off the floor again, checking if he missed any messages while he was lifting. Throwing the towel over his shoulder he leaned back against the seat. The pretense that he wasn’t checking the phone every moment he could was long forgotten. Both he and Tommy had a day off and had been texting since Buck crawled out of bed for a cup of coffee.

Things between him and Tommy were good. Almost too good. His past relationships were never this peaceful or easy. Since their reconciliation couple of days ago, they fell into a rhythm. In his previous relationships, Buck always felt like his partners took offence if he didn’t talk to them constantly at work or if he would lose time hanging out with the team after work. With Tommy it was different. Sharing a similar job, he knew how hectic the days were. More importantly, he understood the team dynamic. They texted when they could without expectation of an immediate reply. Their conversations never had a beginning or an end, and often with different amount of hours in between, especially when Tommy was piloting. However when they were off, Buck was glued to his phone.

Buck grinned as he looked at the chat. He was getting bolder, adding more winky emojis to his texts and teasing Tommy more often. Despite still blushing like a teenage girl in front of the man, he considered this progress. And judging by Tommy's reactions, it seemed like he was enjoying it too. The last message Buck sent was a selfie of himself in front of the mirror, making sure to pose in a way that showed off his muscles. He really needed to thank Eddie for telling him about lighting all the way back when he first joined the 118. Tommy had responded with a series of fire emojis, and asked which gym he used. Buck placed his phone back down, eager for the man to reply.

He was in the middle of bench pressing as someone approached him from the side.

“Need a spotter?” A familiar voice called out, causing Buck to do a double take, his arms faltering for a second. He quickly recovered and clinked the barbell back into place. Tommy stood beside him, wearing a pair of blue shorts and a black, very fitting vest top. Shamelessly, Buck ogled at the man, his eyes glancing up and down a few times.

“Tommy!” He grinned widened. “What are you doing here? I thought you had errands to run.”

“Well, a cute guy changed my mind.” ommy replied, winking playfully and eyeing the equipment. “Mind if we share?”

“Be my guest," Buck said, stepping away from the bench and giving it a quick wipe. He couldn't help but emit a half-groan as he watched Tommy bend down to grab another set of plates, offering him an excellent view. The sly smirk on Tommy’s face suggested he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Ready to actually do some work?” Tommy teased, adding the weights to the barbell. Buck chuckled shaking his head.

“You’re on, old man.”

An hour and a cold shower later, Buck sighed happily as his muscles tingled, the cool water washing away the fatigue of their intense workout. He was pleased to learn that Tommy was just as competitive as him, the workout turning into a fun competition. They ended their workout on a treadmill where Tommy had utterly beat his ass in endurance.

As he dried his hair with a towel, Buck caught sight of Tommy openly staring at him in the mirror. His heart quickened at the intensity of Tommy's gaze, a flush creeping up his cheeks as he met the other man's eyes.

“What?” Buck asked, shifting under his gaze. The semi-public space added to the nerves and excitement.

“Nothing, just you're quite the sight.” Tommy replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Buck’s brain short-circuited for a moment.

“Lets grab some lunch.” Tommy added casually, as if he didn’t just openly flirt in a men’s locker room. He thew the duffel bag over his soldier, and Buck quickly grabbed his stuff, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he fell into step beside Tommy, feeling like a lovesick puppy in the best possible way.

———

After coming out to his sister and best friend, it became easier to talk about this newly discovered part of himself. There were only a select number of people he did want to tell, and he was determined to do it before the wedding. In part, he didn't want to make Maddie and Chimney's big day about him, a distant echo of his parents' voices ringing in his mind. Mostly, he just wanted to have a nice night with Tommy among their closest friends, unspoiled by awkward corrections that Tommy isn't just his friend but his date. He knew that Tommy wouldn't correct it if someone did make that assumption, wouldn't out him; he was too considerate for that.

Buck told Chimney when he announced he needed a plus one to the wedding. He rolled his eyes, remembering the smug grin on Chimney's face, all too pleased that he was a matchmaker. After teasing him for a while, Chimney clasped Buck’s shoulder and declared that there was no way Tommy would be going to his bachelor’s party. He added something about 'under my dead body' would there be lovebirds pining in his face on his last night as a single man.

On one of the quieter shifts, Buck was helping Hen load up an ambulance. It was pretty quiet in the station when the words came to him. He didn’t explain in much detail, just a simple ‘I kissed a boy’ was enough. She gave him a knowing smile and pulled him into a hug. Then, she proceeded to roast him about Tommy for the next fifteen minutes.

He hesitated to tell Bobby and Athena . Not because he expected a negative reaction; after all, they had come together because Michael was brave enough to share that hidden part of himself. Buck knew they accepted him fully and had no doubt they’d do the same to him. It was a different kind of anxiety. The kind he imagined people felt when introducing someone they’re seeing to their parents. That was an experience he never had. When he was younger and girls started showing interest, he was too caught up in hormones to commit to just one long enough to bring home. Besides, his parents wouldn't have cared even if he did.

Sure, Bobby and Athena met and interacted with his past girlfriends before. Buck never asked what they thought of them, never asked for their approval. He was younger back then, did what he wanted, saw who he wanted. He didn’t need anyone’s approval. They didn't question him when those relationships inevitably crashed and burned; they were simply there. Whether it was celebrating his proudest achievements, scolding him for his reckless behavior, or keeping vigil by his bedside after a close call with death, they were always nearby.

He knew he wasn’t their kid. He was in his thirties for crying out loud. Yet during countless family dinners, moments at work, and various celebrations, he would catch glimpses of domesticity and could briefly imagine that he was their kid. He could envision that this was how it felt to be loved by parents.

He wanted them to like Tommy. It was a strange feeling, wanting to bring someone home and introduce them. Deep down, he desired to do it properly, but it was way too soon for that. They were still getting to know each other, without labels or exclusivity. Well, they were exclusive on Buck’s side, but they hadn't had the conversation yet, so he didn't want to presume.

For now, he would settle for introducing him as his date for the wedding.

“Buck!” Athena exclaimed as she answered the door, surprise evident on her face as she opened it wider to let him in. “What did you do?”

“Can't I come over without being accused of doing something?” Buck asked with mock hurt, flashing a playful smile.

“You’re always up to something.” Athena chuckled.

“I’m not intruding am I?” He asked, wanting to make sure. He could totally come over another time.

“Of course not, come. Coffee is on the counter.” With that she glanced at Bobby, communicating something Buck couldn’t decipher and walked off.

Bobby was in the living room and greeted him warmly. With a coffee in his hand, Buck sat down on the couch. They talked for a bit, catching up on one of the calls they had the other day. Buck tried to pay attention to the conversation, but his mind was elsewhere. He wondered what the best way to bring it up was, feeling his mouth go dry as he glanced down at his mug. Eventually, Bobby, sensing Buck's distraction, asked what was on his mind.

“I, uh,” Buck began, biting his lip nervously. “I have a date. For the wedding.”

“Really? Is she someone we know?” Bobby asked curiously, perhaps sensing there was more to the conversation.

The silence stretched out. Buck finally raised his eyes to Bobby, trying to find the words. Bobby tilted his head.

“Is he someone we know?” Bobby asked, his tone softening.

“Yeah, it’s Tommy.” Buck finally managed to say.

“Wow.”

“Wow?” Buck frowned, his stomach dropping.

“No! Not like that!” Bobby was quick to correct it. “More like I should have realised you two would hit it off.”

“Yeah, we hit it off alright. Is… is that weird?”Buck asked tentatively.

“Why would it be weird?” Bobby responded, genuine confusion in his voice.

“I uh, I don’t know.” Buck sighed, rubbed his face and rose up. He pointed towards the kitchen. Eager to change the subject. “Forget I said anything. Want to grab something to eat? I’m starving.”

“Buck,” Bobby stopped him, rising and clasping a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve know you since you were wet behind your ears. I’ve watched you go from a reckless kid to a great man. And while I’d appreciate if you would stop giving me heart attacks with the stunts you pull on the job, your heart has always been in the right place. So if you’re happy, that’s all that matters to me.”

A lump formed in Buck's throat, and he blinked back sudden tears. Before he could react, Bobby pulled him into a hug After a moment of surprise, Buck hugged him back.

“I’m proud of you kid.” Bobby added softly, loud enough only for him to hear.

“Thanks, Bobby.” Buck managed to choke out, his voice thick with emotion.

They pulled away, with Bobby giving his shoulder a final squeeze. Buck cleared his throat, a smile breaking out.

Athena's voice interrupted their moment, teasing and light-hearted.

“Ain’t you two looking cozy. Anything interesting to share?”

Buck glanced at Bobby, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “I, uh, was telling Bobby about bringing Tommy to the wedding. As my date. Uh, the pilot that helped us find you.”

“I’m impressed Buck,” Athena grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “What’s his name?”

“Tommy Kinard.” Buck replied and watched her pull out her phone and type it in phone. “Wait, are you doing a background search on him?!”

——-

Kissing Tommy was quickly becoming Buck’s favourite thing to do. They were at his loft, hanging out in the kitchen as Buck was still without a couch. His parents had gotten one for him, but it was more aesthetically pleasing than comfortable and after a 24-hour shift it pissed Buck off and he sold it the next morning. He had yet to buy a new couch.

As they waited for their Italian takeaway to arrive, conversation flowed easily between them but his attention was drifting, unable to resist stealing glances at Tommy's lips. Sensing Buck's gaze, Tommy flashed a knowing smile before taking hold of Buck's chin, and guided their lips together in for a kiss Buck's breath hitched in his throat as their lips met, his hands instinctively finding their way to Tommy's waist, pulling him closer. As the seconds passed, Buck’s confidence grew and he licked at the bottom of Tommy’s lip. Tommy hummed in encouragement, parting his lips, his hands roaming over Buck’s back.

Their kiss grew more passionate, more urgent and before he knew it, Tommy grabbed at his legs and hoisted Buck on top of the counter. A surprised gasp escaped Buck as he instinctively grabbed at Tommy for support. Tommy took the opportunity and slotted himself against Buck’s legs, wrapping them around himself.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” Buck groaned out, his voice thick and eyes half-lidded with desire.

“You haven’t seen anything yet, pretty boy.” Tommy grinned, planting another kiss on his lips. He didn’t let Buck deepen the kiss, instead trailed light kisses down his cheek and neck. Buck gasped in pleasure at the nibbles along his neck, causing his body to jolt into Tommy’s when he sucked a particularly sensitive spot. Tommy's hand on his leg tightened, grounding him.

Buck flinched, startled, as a series of loud knocks on the door interrupted them. Tommy let out a frustrated sigh, briefly nibbling on Buck's neck once more before reluctantly pulling away.

“I’ll get it.” Tommy muttered, his eyes still dark with desire. He glanced at Buck’s lips and quickly kissed him again before moving away to get the door. As Tommy's back turned to him, Buck took a moment to catch his breath and ensure his legs hadn't turned to jelly. With a sheepish smile, Buck adjusted his jeans, feeling the warmth creeping into his cheeks.

Tommy managed to get rid of the delivery guy in a record speed and brought the pizza box to the table that was already set. Buck pulled out two beers from the fridge and joined him.

“I tried to get you in but Chimney was adamant that it’s not a bachelor party if we are making in a corner instead of partying.” Buck said as he brought the beer to his lips.

“Wise man, I can barely keep my hands off you.” Tommy sent him a flirty smile. Buck was getting a suspicion that this smooth fucker said things on purpose to make him blush.

“Also, Athena ran a background search on you.” Buck blurted out before his mind caught up with him. Probably not the best thing to say. “I mean, I told Bobby about us and she asked so you know. Told her as well.”

“Really?” Tommy raised his eyebrow in amusement. “Should I be worried?”

“Not unless you have something to hide.” Buck quipped playfully, his gaze locking with Tommy’s.

“Not to my knowledge. But do let me know if I have to flee the country. I’ll need time to prepare my chopper.” Tommy chuckled, his demeanor relaxed as he grabbed another slice of pizza.

“Speaking of telling people about us.” He continued. “Evan, are you absolutely sure about bringing me? It’s a big step, even if I wasn’t a man.”

“Yeah, of course.” Buck replied with a soft smile. “Besides, everyone who are important to me already know you’re my date. The rest can deal with it.”

Tommy's gaze turned thoughtful as he considered Buck's response “What about your parents? I assume they will be there.”

“I mean,” Buck shrugged. “I mean, something tells me that won't be the most disappointing thing I've done in their eyes even if they don't like it."

“Complicated history?” He guessed. They hadn’t really discussed their parents or their relationships with them.

“Something like that.” Buck alluded. He didn’t really want to get into it. His own feelings towards parents were complex, and definitely not a conversation for a date night.

Tommy seemed to understand and didn’t pry further.

“Well for what it’s worth,” Tommy's hand found Buck's on the table. “I can’t wait to be shown off by you.”

—-

Link to ao3:

#911 abc #911 show #911 spoilers #evan buckley #buck x tommy #bucktommy #tommy kinard #ao3 #fanfic #kinkley #tuck #tevan

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praetorqueenreyna · 3 days

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Tamlin is shocked (and a little scared) when his ex-girlfriend's sister stops by his flower shop. Featuring Florist!Tamlin and Tattoo Artist! Nesta.

For Tamlin Week Day 3: Flower Languages. Click here to read on AO3, or continue reading below!

@tamlinweek

“I have a question for you.”

Tamlin jumped and dropped his shears with an aggressive clank. He was trimming the ends of yesterday’s flowers, his headphones blaring Hozier as he focused on his task. He hadn’t even heard somebody enter his flower shop.

It took a second for him to place where he had seen the modestly-dressed woman before. It was Nesta, one of the three sisters that ran Archeron Tattoos next door. Immediately, Tamlin was on guard. A year prior he had had a disastrous relationship with another sister, Feyre, which had ended so badly he wouldn’t have been surprised if she had set his shop on fire. For months after, he had avoided even glancing at the door to the tattoo parlor. Things had settled down and Feyre even had a girlfriend now, but that didn’t stop her from giving him the stink eye whenever they crossed paths. He had been so busy deliberately not looking over there that he barely knew anything about the other two sisters.

“Um, yes?” he stuttered, aware that he had been staring blankly at her for way too long.

Nesta raised an eyebrow. She didn’t seem like she was here to murder him, but also didn’t seem like she was thrilled to be there. “I need reference photos for a piece I’m doing this weekend and can’t find any online. If you have the flowers here, I’d like to take some pictures.”

Tamlin could have pointed out that she didn’t actually ask him a question, but to be honest, Nesta was intimidating. She was almost as tall as he was and, though he outweighed her slim frame, she seemed like the kind of person capable of getting what she wanted. Besides, the request wasn’t unreasonable and there was nobody else in the shop right now.

“Sure. What flowers do you need?”

Nesta pulled out her phone and thumbed through it until she found the list. “Yellow hyacinth, foxglove, cowslip, marigold…” She rattled off about a dozen of the weirdest flower requests Tamlin had ever heard. He was used to people requesting orchids and roses, not wolfsbane. There was an awkward pause when she finished talking and was waiting for him to respond.

Tamlin cleared his throat. “I’m sure I have some of those. I’ll be honest, it’s a rather…unusual set of flowers.

“I’m aware. You know about florigraphy, correct?”

“Yeah. Flower languages.” As a florist, Tamlin had come to know the most common flowers used to convey meaning. Red roses for true love, white tulips for remembrance, etc.

“Exactly. My client just got out of a shitty relationship, and she wants a huge floral sleeve celebrating that. And instead of using flowers that represent love and peace and all that crap, she wants flowers that say ‘fuck you.’ Turning those negative experiences into something positive.”

Tamlin had never thought to use flowers to convey anger or spite, but he could see the appeal. He was certainly well versed in bad break ups. He led Nesta around the shop, pulling out the flowers from her list that he did have in stock. To his surprise, she asked for his opinion. They talked through each flower, Nesta taking pictures of them from every angle while Tamlin Googled its meaning. Nesta was extremely meticulous. She lined up the flowers next to each other, studying their color and shape against each other to make sure they’d make an aesthetically pleasing art piece. Many of the flowers with negative connotations were yellow, which she said didn’t tattoo as well. They finally settled on black dahlia (betrayal), narcissus (selfishness), and columbine (folly).

“I think I’ll frame them like this,” Nesta mused, placing the individual flowers on the table in an artful array. “With the praying mantis in the middle.”

“Why a praying mantis?”

“You know, that whole thing where the females rip off the males’ heads after they mate.” Nesta gave a devilish grin. “Very empowering.”

“That’s not true.”

The easy-going atmosphere that had developed between them collapsed. Nesta scowled. “What?”

Tamlin, who by now was wishing he had ever learned when to shut the fuck up, stammered, “It’s a myth, that praying mantises do that. A very common one, lots of people believe it!”

Apparently, his nervous explanation was pathetic enough to convince Nesta that he wasn’t trying to talk down to her. She tilted her head, appraising him with cool gray eyes, wordlessly waiting for him to continue.

“Well, um, the study where the females eat the males was done in a lab, and they were starving and stressed out. Afterwards, they were observed mating in the wild, and it doesn’t really happen.”

“So you’re telling me a bunch of people had to go out and watch bugs have sex?” Nesta asked in a deadpan voice.

“I guess? I don’t actually know all the details. It can’t be as weird as I’m making it sound, but—”

“Relax, I’m kidding,” Nesta grinned at his obvious discomfort. Tamlin noticed she had a dimple in her left cheek.

“Oh.” Although she didn’t seem like she was going to bite his head off anymore, Tamlin scrambled to find something to recover the conversation that he had derailed. “You could do a spider. For a lot of them, the females are way bigger and more powerful than the males. And the males have to bring them presents to avoid getting eaten.”

“Mhmm, I like that. Thanks.” Nesta paused in the doorway. “You know, you’re not as much of an asshole as I had thought.”

“Thank you?” There was barely enough time to comprehend what she had said, then she was gone.

Tamlin spent the rest of the day thinking about her. And Feyre. He had assumed that Feyre had told her sisters plenty of stories about how terrible he had been. Some of them would even have been true. He had spent the past year trying to forget one Archeron, only to fall headfirst into another. It was so stupid. They had talked for twenty minutes about flowers and she had smiled at him. Still, every time he entered or left his flower shop, he couldn’t help but glance in the doorway of the tattoo parlor, hoping for a glimpse of Nesta.

***********************************

That weekend, he was closing up the shop when he heard a knock on the door. He had already locked it and was busy sweeping, and he approached the door ready to politely tell the overeager flower buyer to fuck off. His irritation transformed into elation when he caught sight of Nesta through the glass. He hurried to unlock the door and usher the tattoo artist inside, along with the petite red-headed woman that accompanied her.

“Hey, hope you don’t mind us barging in,” Nesta said. Before Tamlin could say that she could barge wherever and whenever she wanted, she nodded towards the other woman. “This is Gwyn. I just finished up her sleeve. I told her how you helped me, and she wanted to come by and thank you in person. And show you the final piece.”

Gwyn was wearing a tank top, and one of her arms was a riot of color. Tamlin couldn’t see the details of the new tattoo under the saran wrap that currently covered it.

“Oh. Of course, you didn’t have to do that. I’m happy to help,” Tamlin replied, flustered. Gwyn was staring at him with big blue eyes. They were a little puffy, as if she had been crying, which Tamlin assumed was the result of getting a tattoo for hours upon hours. She was grinning though, clearly pleased with the completed work.

“Well, thank you still. I really appreciate it. Especially the bug info. I would have been so embarrassed to find out the mantis stuff after I had already gotten the tattoo.” She stepped forward and held out her arm. “Do you want to see it?”

“Sure, I’d love to.” Gwyn pinched the edge of the saran wrap between her fingers and peeled it off. The surface of the tattoo glistened with ointment, but it was still breathtaking. The flowers that he had Nesta had picked out absolutely glowed, bright bursts of red and purple and yellow and green against Gwyn’s pale skin. In the middle of the flowers was a black widow spider, glossy black with the distinctive red hourglass on her abdomen. It was an absolutely stunning piece of artwork.

“Wow,” Tamlin breathed. “It’s incredible.” He lightly touched Gwyn’s wrist to tilt her arm so he could see more of the tattoo, then realized what he had done. “Oh shit!” He jerked his hand away. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you without asking.”

Rather than being annoyed, Gwyn was blushing furiously. “It’s okay, you can touch.” Nesta snorted, and Gwyn shot her a look that Tamlin couldn’t interpret. “Just not on the ink. It still hurts.”

“I bet.” With his fingertips, he rotated Gwyn’s arm back and forth, taking in every little detail. “Amazing. Just amazing.” He let her arm go. “That guy doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

“Yeah, fuck him.” Nesta slung one arm around Gwyn’s shoulders, careful to avoid the new tattoo. “You should totally have gotten to kill and eat him.”

Gwyn giggled. “No argument here. I should get going, my roommate is probably out front waiting to pick me up. She waved bashfully at Tamlin. “Bye, it was nice to meet you. And thank you again for all the help.” With that, she slipped out the door. Nesta watched her leave with an amused smirk. It felt like there was an inside joke that Tamlin was missing out on.

“What are you laughing about?” he asked, feeling bold.

“Nothing. Just that you’re challenging Gwyn’s new resolution to swear off men forever.”

“What? Me?”

“Yes, you. Being all cute and respectful like a Victorian gentleman.”

Now Tamlin was the one blushing, his ears were practically on fire. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And the little wrist touch. I’m surprised she didn’t swoon directly into your arms.” Nesta grabbed Tamlin’s hand in a mock imitation of his own interaction with Gwyn. She was rougher than he had been, jerking him forward into her. She had missed his wrist and instead had her hand wrapped around his palm, a mistake he was grateful for, since hopefully she couldn’t feel his blood pounding.

“I didn’t…I wasn’t…” Tamlin’s head was a buzz of static. He couldn’t even breathe with Nesta right there. She was so pretty and so terrifying, which apparently was exactly what he found attractive.

“Relax, I’m messing with you.” She released him and stepped back. “Seriously, you’re a good guy. Stop by next door any time. I promise I’ll tell Feyre not to bite your head off.” With a cheeky wink she left, the bell on the door tinkling faintly behind her.

***********************************

He could do this. He was not going to chicken out, like the last three times he had tried. The cowardly part of his brain was screaming at him to turn back even as he locked the flower shop behind him, but he ignored it. For the first time since his breakup with Feyre, he entered Archeron Tattoos.

All three sisters were there. Feyre, thankfully, was working. She was bent over someone’s ankle, carefully sketching lines with her tattoo gun. There was a brief flash of regret, but nothing more. They were never meant to be, and they were both happier now. Feyre looked up when the door opened and did a double take. She took a few seconds to properly glare at him, then returned her attention back to her client. Tamlin exhaled in relief; a part of him had fully expected her to attack or yell at him.

Elain was behind the counter. She had revved up a formulaic greeting before she realized who he was, and cut herself off mid-sentence. Tamlin gave her a distracted wave, not wanting to get sidetracked. Nesta was in the shop, organizing bottles of colored ink. He cleared his throat to get her attention.

“Hey.”

She looked up, and smiled. “Hey.”

Tamlin looked around, painfully aware that Feyre and Elain could hear everything they said. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”

“Sure.” Nesta led him to the back of the tattoo shop, where they at least had a little more privacy. She turned to him and folded her arms. “What’s up?”

Tamlin had rehearsed the next part a million times. And instead of saying any of that, he pulled a flower out of his pocket and offered it to Nesta. “I brought this for you.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Nesta carefully took the flower, which now had a crumpled stem and smashed leaves.

“It’s a pansy,” he explained. His mouth was inexplicably dry and his voice sounded weird in his ears. When they had been doing their florigraphy research together, they had run across the pansy on multiple sites with multiple meanings. One meaning had stuck out to him, and he hoped that Nesta had remembered it as well.

“You occupy my thoughts,” she murmured. She smiled that dimple smile that left Tamlin weak in the knees. “You’re cute.”

“Oh good, you remembered,” was all that came out of his mouth.

“I did.” She laughed and tucked the pansy behind her ear. “Tamlin, would you like to go out with me sometime?”

“Yes. Yes. Definitely.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up at six.” She lifted herself up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips, then darted past him. Tamlin stood there, stunned, waiting to wake up.

On his way out the door, he stopped. “Bye, Feyre,” he said loudly.

“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you. Asshole,” she said in reply.

It wasn’t great. But it was a start.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #tamlin #pro tamlin #neslin #nesta archeron #tamlin/nesta #tamlin/nesta archeron #tamlin week #tamlinweek #tamlinweek2024 #tamlin week 2024 #fanfic #my fic #THE PARTY CONTINUES

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