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rebouks · 3 months

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Previous // Next

Hi Alex!

I don’t think it’s stupid or cheesy to miss someone, I miss you too! Going back to normal after being on holiday is always horrible, especially after this one, and especially having to go back to school, I’m not a big fan! Do you go to school too? I wanted to ask if you did but I couldn’t… it’s nothing personal, by the way, sometimes I just can’t speak to people and I don’t really know why. I thought it was my decision if I did or didn’t before I met you but maybe not. My parents n’ the teachers at school call it selective mutism but I won’t bore you with all that crap.

I can’t see your new teeth but they grow fast so maybe next time! If they don’t maybe you could get some gold one’s like your dad has, unless you don’t wanna look like a pirate lol.. my littlest sister has four teeth now, and I have all my big teeth! I haven’t counted the twins though cos they’d probably bite me if I tried haha!!

Ava is the tiny one with the blonde pigtails! She’s cute but she still sleeps and poops a lot haha, she’s sorta chill though and definitely doesn’t cry as much as Wren and Byrd used to (have you noticed we’re all named after birds yet? I guess my parents thought it was cute since our last name is Finch) Wren’s the ginger one with plaits! She’s pretty funny but she’s super grumpy sometimes and likes to bite and kick (not me though, she loves me) I think it’s cos she’s tired a lot cos she never sleeps at night, kinda like dad.. they’re twins but Byrd is way different, I couldn’t get a picture of him cos he kept running off, he’s crazy like that but he’s super snuggly and loves playing doctor! He likes to pretend to break my legs so I can’t go anywhere then fix them for me haha. Brothers and sisters are fun but they can be a pain in the butt sometimes! We have a cat called Lou too, his full name is Toulouse and he likes to bring us leaves from the garden and scream about ‘em, and he loves stealing food when you’re not looking.

Dad’s been teaching mom how to cook cos she sucks at it (don’t tell her I said that though cos I always pretend it’s not THAT bad) she’s sorta getting better though so I suppose the whole practice makes perfect thing pays off eventually. I got a school project to make a lame volcano that I didn’t wanna do as well, but my parents made me do it anyway.. we all know that real volcanoes aren’t full of baking powder and vinegar though so I dunno if there was much point to it but they seemed to think it was important so I did it anyway, at least I got a picture of it “going off” I guess. No one likes homework, even if it’s supposed to be fun, right?!

It’s cool you set Amber free!! I’m sure she’s happier wherever she is now so I guess you could just think of that when you miss her? The rocks are way cooler anyway! My aunt Aspen has loads of crystals too, sometimes she even charges them in the sun or the full moon.. I keep forgetting to ask her why but I’ll try and remember so I can tell you next time!

Hahaa your poor dad with those birds! I’ll definitely keep the picture cos it’s hilarious, Wren found it the funniest but don’t worry, I’ll keep the picture safe from her sticky hands! I have a hiding spot in the attic for all the stuff I don’t want them touching. I guess birdwatching is sorta fun sometimes but you’ve gotta be quiet (easy for me I guess.. hah!) I’m not sure there’s any other birds round here other than seagulls since we live right next to the sea, those are the ones you can hear the most anyway cos they never shut up! My dad jokes that he used to be a seagull in a past life cos he’s loud and greedy like they are lol.. he’s been building me a treehouse too, I bet that’d be good for birdwatching!! It’ll be super cool once he’s finished but it’s taking ages cos he mostly does it all by himself, I try n’ help sometimes but I’m still too small to carry or lift most things.. I wanna be as strong as him one day, he can build and fix almost anything (he swears a lot during it though haha!) Do you ever think about what you wanna be when you grow up? I don’t really think about that sorta stuff cos working sounds boring, especially if it’s as lame as school!!

I’m ten, by the way! How old are you and when’s your birthday? Mine’s February 22nd. I don’t think I have a favourite food, anything my dad makes is amazing cos he’s a good cook and my mom makes the BEST pancakes! We’re always stuffed after dinner but dad says (lies) that pudding goes in a different part of your stomach so there’s always room for cake haha.. I think I like it best when he makes spicy food but Wren and Byrd hate it so he doesn’t make stuff like that too often. It’s fun to see how much you can eat before your mouth feels like it’s on fire and I’ve decided I’m gonna beat him one day so he better watch out!!!

I didn’t know what to write at first but I guess I sorta ended up writing quite a lot since I had some catching up to do! Are you and your dad on holiday in the tower or are you living there for now? It sorta sounded like you’ve been there a long time, where do you usually live? What kinda stuff does your dad dig up for work? It’d be cool if he dug up dinosaur bones!! I watched something like that recently and they were HUGE!

It’s hard to think of questions on the spot but you can talk about anything you want too! I probably owe you a million answers as well so you can ask anything you want too! I had fun reading your letter and I’m glad we can be pen-pals even if we don’t get to see each other! Maybe next time we meet in person I’ll be able to say something, but writing would still be fun too so I guess it doesn’t really matter, right?

Love Robin c:

ps. I’m keeping the funny photo of you yelling at your dad and there’s nothing you can do about it!!

pps!! I don’t have a way to print out photos yet otherwise I’d have sent some new ones. Dad gave me an old polaroid ages ago but it’s still broken, his friend said he might be able to fix it though so hopefully I can use that next time. Mom said you can have some of our old ones and the ones from her disposable camera whilst we were on holiday for now though so I’ll send those to you as soon as they come back!

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sas-afras · 1 year

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not even caesar’s strongest glue could have held The Sticky Man down

thanks @fallout-lou-begas for the text

#art #not comic art #joshua graham #fallout new vegas #fnv #fnv honest hearts

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charliehoennam · 2 months

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angel part 2

pairing: louis bloom x f!reader

summary: louis and his newfound crush slip deeper into their attraction after the 'wet dream'.

warning: this fic contains dark themes such as stalking, dubcon/noncon, smut and others. Read at your own risk. 18+ ONLY.

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

The early morning sunlight begins to stream into your room. Its beaming warmth stirs you from your deep slumber.

Your head is pounding. The room feels it's still spinning around you and your mouth is drier than a desert.

Water would be really good right now, but you're not ready to get up yet. Your limbs still feel heavy and sore.

As consciousness slowly permeates back into you, you realize the soreness concentrates down between your hips. You lay in bed and think back to the dream you had.

You're riddled with confusion. You've had plenty of hyper realistic dreams before, but this felt different.

It felt so real and so good that you wish it had been real. You brush it off deciding to believe you're just so hung up on your neighbor. Being single for as long as you have been, his kind gesture and his piercing blue eyes are incredibly hard to not find so attractive.

You could still feel his warm breath on your skin. His hands felt soft and rough altogether gliding over your supple thighs and groping at your breasts. The memory of his wriggling tongue in your pussy already has it growing wet again.

You must've been really wet in your sleep judging by the stickiness on your sex. It seemed sort of clean; it must have rubbed against your bed sheets or something. It explains the small crusty stains on the cotton fabric.

Looks like you'll be doing laundry today. You needed to anyways. The stack of dirty clothes that you'd been ignoring during the packing process has piled up.

Louis watches you stir around in your bed from where he's stood behind his dull green curtains.

"So pretty even when you wake up," he thinks to himself.

He's so hypnotized by you, he doesn't even look down at the bowl of cereal in his hands as he eats calmly wondering if you know.

He watches your hand slide down between your legs to feel around, blissfully unaware as you search for any residue in your sore pussy.

His stare is relentlessly fixed on you. He can't look away, not that he even wants to. His heart drums faster in his chest along with his thoughts.

Does she know? Did she wake up? Is she going to touch herself? Did she enjoy it?

Inebriated with intrigue and curiosity, he stands frozen with one wide creepy eye peeping out from behind his curtain.

His mouth dries with anticipation, hoping you would touch yourself at the thought of being fucked by him. He can almost hear his blood rush in his head as his breath catches in his throat. He wishes he could hear every sound you make.

Lou doesn't even notice he's holding his only breath as you investigate your body, running a hand over your sore breasts and swollen pussy, when he sets his cereal down on the flower table by the window.

"I can't believe it," he thinks to himself. "That little filthy whore liked it. Can't get enough. Just the way I like it."

While you're asking yourself how this came to be, wondering if your little wet dream became a masturbating sleepwalking session, Lou's got his pants and belt open to unleash his heavy twitch dick.

With every recollection of your soft skin, the taste and the warmth of your pussy, his precum oozes from his domed head, allowing himself to smear it over his veiny member adding to the lube of his spit.

He can imagine how sweet your moans must sound. He would give anything to hear them while defiles your innocent body, plundering for the mind-numbing high.

It brings him to the idea of setting up cameras in your apartment, which doesn't sound so bad.

How come I hadn't thought of that before? He questions himself mentally, being the perverted voyager that he is.

He makes a mental note to plan that later. His mind is too impaired to churn out the details for that. Right now, all he can focus on how your hand is still between your legs.

As you think back to every possible explanation, your mind seems to only concentrate how realistic your dream felt.

You could smell the musky cologne of his body. You could feel his cock pushing and pulling in and out of you. You could feel his tongue wiggle between your folds once he was done pounding it ruthlessly.

The more you think about it, the more you ache for your neighbor.

The thought of him fucking you into your mattress drives you reach your heavy arm to your nightstand and pull out your vibrating friend.

The soreness of your limbs and the throbbing headache aren't enough to silence your pussy's craving. And it yearns for Lou.

Lou watches with a dry mouth hung open as you grind the humming cock against your pussy, drenching it with your slick to push it in.

You lick your lips and moan as you let the vibrator tease your clit, imagining Lou's face so clearly hovering over you as his dick penetrates your cunt.

The thought of the heavenly sounds your bodies would make as his hips snap against your sweaty hot skin.

You imagine threading your fingers into his silky hair as he buries his face between your legs, his tongue invading your core. The intensity of his thick-browed gaze up at you, gripping you with greedy hands and hunger as his mouth works it's wonder on you.

The watch on Lou's wrist rattles softly in the quiet of his apartment as he tugs his dick; his only little compliment to your performance.

With your legs spread wide, you push the vibrator into your slick slit and begin fucking yourself into your own bliss.

You're so fucking horny and drenched that the squelch of your pussy overcomes the vibrations of your toy. You're so hungry for cock and so pretty unknowingly putting yourself on display, holding one leg back to your chest as you fuck your pussy.

You're moaning, gasping and kneading your breast while Lou struggles to not cum just yet.

He wants to wait to cum with you. He wants to cum together because you're his. You were meant to be his and you have to cum together. He needs to feel - or at least pretend enough - that he's right back in your vice of a cunt, dicking you down raw.

His breath hitches as you get closer together and closer and closer until the pulling tension finally snaps in your cores, sheathing you both euphoric waves of pleasure.

"Fuck," he sighs looking at the curtains he'd just stained with ribbons of pearly white cum.

He really needs you again.

He wants more. He'll always want more.

Looking back out the window, he sees you slowly getting to walk to the bathroom and exit from view. He correctly assumes you've gone for a shower, but he needs another round.

With the camera hooked up to the tv, he finally sits back on his couch with your panties in hand. He presses play and begins to watch his work of art from the previous night, he threads his cock into your panties and begins to stroke his length.

He takes a bit of time to notice all the little intimate details of your home that reflect your tastes. Stroking his softened cock to its hardened state again, he makes notes of most of the things you love.

What a lucky little angel you are. He should be watching the news to see what his team's managed to capture without him. Yet here he is, prioritizing you. Worshipping you. You just don't know how truly special you are...yet.

Louis's head falls back as the vulgar images and sound lull him into bliss.

He remembers how pretty you looked. So exposed just for his eyes. All and only his even if just for a while.

Louis's chest heaves as he stares at the TV. You look so peaceful in your sleep. He wonders if he'll ever get to sleep beside you.

While Lou jacks his cock off to the dirty homemade video with your panties hooked around his cock, the fresh scent of the dark brew in your coffee pot wafts through your apartment, infiltrating your bathroom as you wash yourself in the shower.

The warm water rinses away the soreness of your body as you sit on the ground under the running shower.

You close your eyes to enjoy the soothing calm of the shower. Your mind begins to wander. What is it about him that has you so hung up on him?

Sure, he's attractive. He's no LA fitness model. Just a thin, young man with a deadly smile, luscious brown lock and piercing unyielding eyes that could burn a hole tight through you.

He looked fairly common, but there was still something there within that brought a chill up your spine until the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end.

To be entirely honest, you can't tell if you're attracted to him or scared of him. But whatever it is, it's pulling you like a magnet.

As he waters his treasured flower, he notices across from his window that you're gathering clothes and bedsheets, preparing a laundry basket as you nestle the laundry soap and softener upon the piled fabrics.

He sees this as an opportunity to get closer to you presenting itself. And given the mess he's made on the curtains and your stolen panties, he knows it'll have to be laundry day for him as well.

The complex you share has a community laundromat for the tenants. He presumes that's where you're going, he needs to get there before you do. He needs you to think it's all a mare coincidence.

He watches you wide-eyed as you set your basket down on the couch.

Your toast's popped up in the toaster.

He sighs in relief, knowing now he has enough time to gather his laundry and soap to race to the laundromat to get there before you do.

He stumbles through his apartment, gathering whatever he can find to toss aimlessly into his laundry basket. Then he gathers the curtains from his window to dump them into the basket, along with your dirty lace panties.

He kinda hates that he ruined them. Now, he'll have to wash them and that will wash away your precious scent. No worries, though. He'll just steal another next time and make sure he keeps that one sealed and cleaned to sniff whenever he craves your pussy.

Grabbing a few more clothes, not really caring if they're clean or dirty, he takes one more glance out the window and see that you're still enjoying your simple breakfast.

Dressed in a pink shirt, he ties his brown locks back away from his face and carries his basket on his hip as he calmly makes his way to the laundry room confident in his plan to win you over.

You finish your slices of buttered toast and coffee before wiping your hands together and quickly rinsing the dishes.

The move must have really taken a toll on you because your body is beyond tired, but you still need to push forward though all you wish you could do is sleep under your covers.

Taking a cold water bottle from the fridge, you walk out of your apartment with basket wearing a simple top, short denim shorts and a pair of flip flops.

As you approach the laundromat, you can hear a machine working already from the hallway. The door is wide open, providing more light into the dull dark laundry room.

Outdated washers and dryers line the the walls of the room - if you can even call it that. It really looks more like a building basement with the lack of windows.

You freeze for a minute as you quickly make out the familiar figure standing with his back to you as he calmly sets his clothes in the washer one item at a time.

After a glance over his shoulder, he turns around his head to flash a smile that attempts to seem more welcoming than devious, though faint worry radiating from your amygdala questions his succession in asserting comfort.

"Y/N, right? The new neighbor?" As if he could ever forget your name.

"Yeah. You're Lou, right?" you reply politely returning the smile.

Without any control, your pussy squeezes around nothing arching for him once again as you're reminded of your dream.

"Are you settling in alright?"

"Yeah, I am. Still have some unpacking to finish, but everything is going well. Thanks for asking."

"Sure thing. Oh, " suggest washer number 3. It works the best if you ask me. Don't bother with number 9. It'll take your coins, but it doesn't work. I personally believe it's intentionally rigged to steal our money."

"Thank you for that. I'll have to keep that in mind," you smile politely.

You wonder if it's actually true or if he just wants you to be closer to him given that washer number 3 is right next to him. Why wouldn't he take the best washer instead?

Brushing off the worrisome questions, you feel like you barely know him enough to make judgements about him, so you walk over to the washer beside his and start loading it up.

"Thank you for the cookies again. They were really good. I almost ate all of them."

He smiles to himself. Almost? That could only mean you didn't eat all of them, meaning there are more of the sleep-inducing cookies that can provide him with another opportunity and hopefully tonight.

His dick twitches at the excitement.

"I'm glad you enjoyed them. Although I admit they're much better when eating within the first two days. After that, they start to go stale."

They don't, but he can't risk you not eating them.

"Guess I'll have to finish them all today. What a sacrifice," you reply ironically flashing a smile at him.

He chuckles at your jokes, trying his best to mimick genuine amusement.

"What an awful way to indulge."

"Did you make them from scratch?"

"Oh, of course" he lies. "They're my late grandma's recipe."

He never even met his grandmother or grandparents. He was given up to adoption at an early age. He lies to add a personal taste; he hopes he can win you over a little with a family-friendly detail.

And he does.

"Aw, that's sweet," you swoon. "Did you learn how to cook with her?"

"She taught me enough to get me by."

"Well, she taught you well. Those cookies were delicious."

Yes, you are. The best thing I've ever tasted, he thinks to himself.

"She taught me how to make a wonderful chocolate cake as well. I'd love to make it for you sometime," he beams at all the possible opportunities that flash through his mind.

"Yeah, I'd love that! I love chocolate cake. But you gotta let me make you something too," you reply feeling a little too spoiled.

"You don't have to do that. I love baking," he hasn't the slightest clue how to make a cake from scratch. Thank God for box mix, though.

"Well, I wouldn't feel so bad about accepting all your treats. Why don't you at least let me take you out then? My treat."

"Are you asking me out?" he smirks locking his eyes on you.

"I might be. Doesn't have to be a date if you don't want to."

Your cheeks flush with warmth as he catches your not-so-subtle invitation.

"Yeah, I'd love that. And I appreciate a woman that isn't afraid to take the initiative."

You smile brightly feeling like you just took a step in the right direction.

"I'm free tonight if you are? I know a great place that serves authentic Mexican food."

"Sounds great to me. How about tonight at 8?"

"Perfect, sweetheart" he grins.

His idea to win you over is actually working, all according to plan.

#louis bloom #louis bloom x you #louis bloom x reader #louis bloom x y/n #lou bloom #lou bloom x you #lou bloom x reader #lou bloom x y/n #nightcrawler #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal smut

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hom3landr · 1 year

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Actirasty

18+

Life with him is rarely perfect but there are moments so full of love that you nearly choke on it.

Birthmark concept courtesy of @blindmagdalena

You can’t help but giggle as he nuzzles into that tender spot where your neck meets your shoulder. He’s so warm and the loose strands of his hair tickle as they brush your skin, still a little stiff from that gel he slicks it back with. He’s softened but still inside you, come leaking around the edges from where he’s filled you past the brink. You wiggle in his grip as you try to maneuver the two of you away from the quickly growing wet patch on the sheets. He nips at you, frustrated that you aren’t staying in place for him to properly cuddle.

“Johnnnnnnnn,” You whine. He just huffs and holds you tighter, as though he’s trying to meld the two of you into one being. It would break your heart if you weren’t stuck in the puddle of come from your lovemaking.

“Whaaaaaat?” He replies, petulant voice mocking yours. His hips shift against yours and if you weren’t so utterly exhausted, you’d be tempted to give in to the heat slowly building up between your legs. As it stands, you think if you do then you won’t be able to walk for the next week. Although it’s not like Homelander would mind one bit. He’d love to keep you in his bed forever.

“My ass is all sticky. Can’t we shift just a few inches to the left” You ask, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. You’ve learned that you can get him to do practically anything as long as your hands are in his hair. He purrs like a lazy lapcat. How could he ever scare you when he melts in your arms so easily. It makes you feel like you have champagne in your veins instead of blood.

“Hmmm…I dunno babe. You really wore me out. I just don’t think I have the energy.” He drops more of his weight on you, causing you to cough and smack at his shoulder. He’s impossible and he’s so close that you can feel his body shiver as he chuckles softly. You want him so fucking bad that you curse your human stamina. You think you might actually die if you don’t fuck him stupid, turning his self-satisfied giggles into wanton moans.

“I’m serious!” You wheeze out. He lays on you a half second more before taking pity on you and rolling to the side. You want to cry when his cock leaves you, his come now spilling freely between your thighs. Before he can cause any more mischief you roll to the side as his arm tucks you in tight against him. The sodden sheets stick to your skin for a moment before you’re laying on the wonderfully dry side of the bed. You look at his face only for your heart to tighten painfully at the earnestly lovestruck look on his face. You’ve never been the subject of such rapt attention. You’re worried that loving him is like looking head on at the sun, the light bound to blind you eventually. You’ve already grown used to the smell of iron on his suit after a patrol.

Without your brain even being aware of making the decision, you graze the birthmark on his hip with your fingers. His whole body trembles and he lets out a petulant little huff. It doesn’t even take a second for his cock to twitch, already starting to swell against his thigh. His eyelids flutter and you swear he blushes. It always flusters him something stupid when you pay it any attention. You don’t know how much he used to view that mark as an embarrassing imperfection.

“I’m going to fuck you unconcious if you keep that up.” He intends it as a threat but you view it as a temptation that you’re more than willing to give in to. Unfortunately, you really don’t think your overworked cunt would survive another pounding. He’d already fucked you full five times this evening. He barely gave you a chance to catch your breath before sinking back into your tender pussy and sliding his fingers against your clit. So despite your mind screaming at you to give in, you remove your fingers from his hip.

You intend to quip back at him but when you open your mouth all that leaves is a loud yawn. He exhales fondly before placing a soft kiss on your forehead. He mutters something too low for you to hear before tucking you tighter against his chest, sighing happily at the way you intertwine your legs with his.

“Attagirl,” He coos as he traces gentle circles on your back. He hopes you realize how much he loves you because it’s almost painful how badly he wants to feel you shiver around his cock one more time. You’re lucky he has such incredible restraint. He goes to give you one last kiss before he pauses. A soft snore reveals the fact that you’re already asleep, your slow and steady heartbeat like a balm to his soul as he soaks you in.

He knows deep deep down that he doesn’t deserve it but for fuck’s sake he’s earned it. After the universe kept him alone for so many years, he considers it his due that he found you. He’ll never ever ever let the universe take you back.

#homelander #x reader #homelander x reader #homelander headcanons #feels really good to write again

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cmncisspnandmore · 6 months

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One Night Stand

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley X Reader

Warnings: Slight mention of death??

Summary: After moving to London, you decide to go to a bar your first night in town.

Word Count: 3,475

A/N: Hi! Welcome to my very first Simon Riley Series!! Im so excited to start this series. I have been brainstorming the idea for a few days now. Im hoping to get one part out a week. But please be patient if they take a little longer. This first part isnt super long but i wanted to give something to introduce the series.

Next: Part 2

The music thumped loudly outside of the crowded bar, the heavy smell of alcohol and smoke wafted from the open door. A drunken girl stumbled out of the bar, her head back in laughter. She adjusted her too small top as she glanced over her shoulder at the man walking behind her. His face was flushed, a drunk smile on his face as well. They stumbled towards the curb together, one arm out hailing a taxi from the street.

The man wraps his arms around the woman's waist, keeping her steady as he pressed his lips against her ear. Whispering something in her ear that made her laugh again, a blush forming on her cheeks. You tear your gaze away as they climb into the Taxi, the door slamming shut behind them.

The dim lights of the bar in front of you are warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the wildly thumping bass, and loud noises from people who had one too many. Taking a moment you glance down, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. This was a bad idea, you never went out to bars. The last time you went out to a bar you ended up almost getting kicked out due to your friends over intoxication, she had a few too many and tried multiple times to dance on the sticky black bar top. Finally a bouncer had helped you drag her out of there, you then spent most of the night holding her hair back as she threw up in the lou.

But yet, here you are, standing in front of a bar in a new town. A town where you knew no one, and no one knew you.

Exactly how you wanted it.

A fresh start.

Or so you hoped.

With a deep breath you stepforward, sliding past the throng of people crowding the door. Inside the music was even louder, the bass vibrated in your chest as you pushed forward towards the counter. Behind the bar you watched as a man with a mohawk effortlessly threw bottles around. His graceful movements caught the attention of the patrons. His smile radiated in the low light, as he poured various alcohols into a shaker, making exaggerated movements as he popped the lid on and shook the contents together.

In one fluid movement he poured a row of shots, filling each tiny shot glass with just the right amount before he slid them across the clean black top towards the guests. Slipping into an empty bar stool you watch as he takes orders, his smile never leaving his face as he takes the rag off his shoulder and wipes down the counter. As he reaches under the bar top he grabs a beer popping the bottle cap off and slides it to the man on the end of the bar. His bucket hat tips in acknowledgement as he grabs the beer. Bringing it to his lips for a sip before he gives the bartender a wink.

The man in the bucket hat turns his attention to the man on his left, his head slightly down, black ball cap covering his eyes. In the terrible lighting of the bar you could see the sharp angles of his jaw as he laughed at whatever bucket hat said to him.

“Hello lass, what can I get for ye?” A thick Scottish accent jerked you away from your people watching. Standing in front of you is, Mohawk bartender, his hand resting on the bar top in front of you as he looks at you. His bright blue eyes watching you, as you straighten up in your seat. Your fingers nervously tapping on the cool counter as he gives you a soft smile.

“Oh.. uh, just a Vodka Soda?” You say, but it comes out as more of a question.

Mohawk laughs, his white teeth flashing as he shakes his head at you. “You sure about that?” He teases, his voice light as he turns towards the wall of alcohol on the back wall.

“Did it sound that bad?” You shrink down in the seat.

“Ney, you aren’t a regular ‘round here, are ye? I know almost all of them,” Mohawk says as he grabs a highball glass and fills it with ice. He tips a bottle of vodka into the glass, the clear liquid slowly inching up the ice. Your eyes follow the rising liquid, only flickering back to the bright blues of the bartender when he grabs the nozzle of soda and adds it to the glass.

“I just moved here, first night in town actually,” You smile as he slides the now full glass towards you. Taking the black thin straw you stir the contents for a moment before putting it to your lips and taking a sip. The vodka burns the back of your throat, warming your stomach as your eyes trail over the bartenders face.

He was handsome, along with his bright blue eyes, he had a strong jawline that was covered in a stubbly beard. A slight scar ran down his forehead towards his left eyebrow, but it was hard to see in the dim lighting. A smile played at his lips as he watched you take a sip, the towel from his shoulder wiping down the bar again. He was muscular under his gray fitted t-shirt, it was evident as he started replacing the supplies he used from making drinks, his muscles flexing as he reached up to put away a top shelf liquor.

“Well, welcome home then. The names Johnny, but most people just call me Soap,” Soap said over his shoulder, as he glanced back at you. Your lips around the black straw, as you take another deep sip. The slightly sweet drink goes down slightly easier now, the knot in your chest lessinging with each sip.

“Y/N, Y/n y/l/n. Why do people call you soap?” you tilt your head to the side as Johnny comes to stand in front of you again. He leans his forearms on the bar, getting closer to you so it was easier to hear over the music.

“It’s just a nickname I was given years ago, got it from a few of my service buddies,” Soap smiles, flashing his white teeth once again.

“Service? You’re a military man then?” You muse, wrapping your hands around the half empty glass.

“Aye, that hard to believe?” Soap raises an eyebrow at you, and you can't help the laugh that bubbles up in your throat.

“No, no,” you wave your hand in his direction, earning another smile from Soap.

“So what brings you to London?” He asks, as he turns towards a new patron. You watch as he listens to the customers order before going about making their drink. As he adds the alcohol to the shaker he looks over at you. The extravagant flipping and mixing ceased as the atmosphere of the bar seemed to calm down slightly.

The louder patrons from the door have gone, the music turned down slightly. The thumping bass is no longer as strong, giving you some relief from the constant vibrations in your chest. You didn't realize how tense the entire atmosphere of the bar was making you. Not until the people around you started talking amongst themselves in normal volumes instead of having to yell over the music. The knot forming in your chest settles some as the alcohol buzzes in your veins, filling you with a warmth that seems to radiate from within.

“Just needed a change I guess,” you stare down into the cup in front of you. Eyes following the swirling ice, as you mix the half empty drink with your straw.

“Change is good sometimes,” Soap smiles, as he comes back over to you. From the corner of your eye you can see Bucket Hat and Ball Cap look over at you two.

“I guess.. So how long have you been in London?” You ask, bringing the straw to your lips once more.

Bucket Hat and Ball Cap stand from where they are sitting and move down the bar, towards where you and Soap are talking. For a moment you aren't sure what they are doing until they slide into the seats next to you, Ball cap on your left, Bucket Hat taking the seat next to him.

“MacTavish! Leave the poor girl alone,” Ball cap scolds, and Soap rolls his eyes.

“Haurd Yer Wheest,” Soap grumbles, although he tried to look annoyed, the playful glint in his eyes says otherwise.

“Be glad LT isn’t here, he’d scold you for not speaking English,” Ball cap snorts, as Soap and Bucket Hat laugh. Soap leans across the bar and punches Ball Cap in the shoulder lightly, and they both smile at each other. Clearly they knew one another, their playful banter and relaxed posture gave that away.

“Excuse them, they don't know how to act in front of a lady,” Bucket hat says to you, peering around Soap and Ball Cap. “I’m John Price, and this,” he gestures to Ball Cap, “Is Kyle Garrick.”

“Y/n, nice to meet you,” You reach down the bar and shake hands with each of them. Kyle gives you a small smile, his perfectly straight white teeth peeking out behind his full lips.

“Call me Gaz, it’s nice to meet you too,” Gaz lets go of your hand and you grab your almost empty drink.

“I was just welcoming Y/n, to London. It’s her first night here.” Soap chimes in, and Price and Gaz nod. The effects of the alcohol were starting to kick in more now. Your cheeks felt flushed, and your insides felt warm and fuzzy.

You barely drank and it was almost embarrassing how having only one drink made you feel. Across the bar Soap once again reached down and pulled out two beers for his friends. He popped the tops and slid them towards them. His large hands rested on the counter as they talked. The black towel he used to wipe down the counter every once in a while slung over his shoulder.

The conversation flowed easily between the three of them, and you often found yourself just watching them talk. Soap and Gaz joked with each other, teasing one another like siblings. While Price watched them, poking fun at one of them every so often. It was like watching a family interact, it made you almost sad.

Your thoughts drifted back to your own family.Before you could be pulled into the depths of your own mind, suddenly the drink in front of you was full. Your eyes catch Johnny’s, he gives you a wink as he walks towards the other end of the bar to take someone's order. You quickly down the fresh drink, coughing slightly as the Vodka burns down your throat and settles in your chest. The warmth blossoms across your cheeks, as you listen to Gaz and Price talk. You continue to push down the feelings that sting that back of your eyes.

Maybe going out wasn't a good idea, the last thing you wanted to do was be the drunk girl crying at the bar. But the pain in your chest as you watch the dynamic between the three of them stings. It slices away at a piece of you, the piece you thought you left behind at the graveyard when you got in your car two nights ago and set off towards London.

“You okay?” Kyle asks, his soft brown eyes peer at you from under his baseball bap.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm going to go to the bathroom. Watch my drink?” You ask, pushing yourself up from the bar stool. The world tilts slightly the full effect of the two drinks you downed in the past hour hitting you. You sway slightly for a moment before you steady yourself, your hands gripping the bar stool to support yourself.

“Of course,” Kyle smiles, turning back to talk to Price and Soap.

You shuffle through the small crowd of people around the bar and spot the bathroom in the back corner of the bar. You dodge people as they mingle, managing to make it to the back of the bar with minimal stumbling. You shove open the swinging bathroom door and walk over to the row of sinks. You rest your hands on the white sinks, leaning over at the waist you take deep breaths. Your chest feels tight as you struggle to pull full breaths in, the emotion clawing at your throat as you fumble for the faucet.

The cold water sprays into the sink, the sound drowning out most of the noise from the bar. Freezing water bites at your wrists as you thrust them under the stream. The hair on your arms stands up as a chill prickles along your heated skin. Tears burn at the back of your eyes, and you squeeze them closed. It was a bad idea, the world tilts and spins, a wave of nausea starts to creep up your throat.

As the tidal wave of emotion threatens to spill over you, like someone filling an already too full cup. You abandon the still running sink, water dripping down your arms onto the dirty tile floor of the bathroom. Stumbling out of the bathroom you glance around. Eyes wide, like a deer in headlights, the glow of the emergency exit sign at the end of the hall catches your eye. Your feet feel like lead blocks as you shuffle towards the door. It’s slightly propped open, a brick acting as a doorstop. The cool London air rushes through the cracked door, and you push it open. The cool air stings your face as the door slams against the brick doorstop.

The alleyway between the bar and the neighboring building is dark. A single street light casting a yellow glow from the sidewalk feet away from where you stand. You press your back against the cold brick wall a few steps away from the door. Tipping your head back you force yourself to drag the cool air into your lungs.

Your lungs burn as you fist your shaking hands at your side, nails biting into the soft flesh of your palms. As your heart hammers in your chest, you fight back the tears that pool behind your closed eyes. You squeeze your fists tighter, the bite of your nails starts to cut through the fog in your head.

Maybe you should’ve just stayed at your flat, then you wouldn't be standing in the cold alleyway of the bar. You wouldn't have fled the bar where people were being genuinely nice to you for once. You wouldn't have to figure out how to explain your absence to Soap. Or squirm under Kyle and Price’s intense seemingly knowing gaze.

You should’ve stayed home.

“You shouldn’t be out here in the dark,” a slightly gruff voice mumbles to your right.

Your eyes flutter open, you scan the dark alleyway, eyes landing on the massive figure that steps out of the emergency door. You blink a few times, clearing away the tears from your vision. A man stands next to the now closed door, he was massive. Broad shoulders and chest, covered by a black fitted t-shirt. He blended in with the shadows of the alleyway despite his massive size.

“Are you going to kidnap me? Or kill me?” You ask, you meant for it to be teasing but it came out almost hopeful.

“No, I just came out here for some air, I didn't realize there was someone out here doing the same,” he chuckles, moving slightly into the light. In the dim lighting you can see him better, he was wearing all black, except for a face mask that rested over his mouth and nose. The lower half of a skull was printed across the mask. His dark brown eyes scanned over you, as you stared at the mask.

“You sure? Most of the time people standing in dark alleys wearing masks have less than legal reasons for being there,” you raise an eyebrow at him.

Your eyes widen as he lets out a laugh, a loud bark of laughter that catches you off guard. “Trust me, my intentions aren’t criminal,” his voice was smooth and deep like honey, as he stepped closer to you.

“What are you doing out here?” He asks, one eyebrow raised, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

As he stands in front of you, even with an added 3 inches you still had to crane your neck up to meet his gaze. “I needed some air as well,” you mumble, he was standing close enough you could feel his body heat radiating off you. Your skin prickles at the heat, goosebumps raising on your arms.

“I’m Simon,” he smiles behind the mask, his hand outstretched towards you.

“Y/n,” You reach out grabbing his hand. The warmth from his skin radiates up your arm. Small electric shocks skitter across your skin at the contact, the anxiety in your chest from earlier fizzles out. He gives your hand a slight squeeze before letting go, and immediately you want his hand in yours again.

“So.. uh.. Listen. I'm not usually one to just casually suggest things like this… But I'm having a really rough night… and…” you trail off, wrapping your arms around yourself. You swear you can see the smirk behind the mask as Simon leans forward slightly, one arm resting on the wall next to you, half caging you in.

“Wanna get out of here? I bet I can take your mind off things..” Simon whispers, his other hand coming to catch the bottom of your chin and tip it up so you're fully looking at him. His brown eyes dark as they trail down your face and your chest. Before they land back on your eyes, the scar down through his eyebrow puckers as he raises one at you.

“Please,” the air rushes from your lungs as you step forward. You weren't lying, you didn't normally just go home with people you met in back alleys of bars. In fact you have never hooked up with someone like this before. But you were desperate to keep the looming thoughts at bay. You needed a distraction from the storm brewing below the surface, and like one broken soul staring at another. On some level you think Simon saw that. There was something in his brown eyes that was familiar. Something you saw every morning reflected in your own eyes. Something you tried hard to shove down into the box where you kept your emotions.

Grief.

It was like a magnet, something that forces people together. So here you were agreeing to go home with a complete stranger you met moments ago because you needed something to drown that out. And from the look in Simon's eyes he understood that, because on some level he needed it too.

“Come on, Love,” Simons voice is soft as his large hand wraps around your waist as he guides you out of the alleyway and towards a black truck parked on the side of the road. You glance over your shoulder, looking back at the front of the bar. Through the large glass window you can see Soap, Gaz and Price still talking and laughing. Your absence seemingly gone unnoticed, your highball glass abandoned on the counter top as someone else has slid into the seat you once occupied.

You climb into the passenger seat of Simon's truck, turning your attention to look out the windshield as he climbs into the driver's seat. The roaring of your thoughts flooding back in the quiet of the truck’s cab. You pick at your fingers as he pulls out of the spot. From the corner of your eye you see Simon glance over at you, before he reaches up and pulls off the skull mask. He tosses it onto the floor of the backseat and focuses on driving.

In the passing streetlights you study his face, blonde stubble litters his jaw, a few thin silvery scars are scattered across his jawline and nose. They weren't ugly by any means, if anything they added character to his otherwise smooth skin. His nose was slightly crooked, you assumed from being broken at one point in time. Simon's eyes flicker to yours, causing you to avert your gaze, like a child being caught doing something naughty. Your eyes trail along the moving scenery as you try to squash down the embarrassment of being caught. The overwhelming anxiety that maybe this was a bad idea.

Simon’s large hand lands on your thigh, the warmth of his palm sinking through the fabric of your jeans.

And suddenly, the noise in your head is quiet.

Next: Part 2

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #COD #cod mwii #cod x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost cod #soap #simon x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost #x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon #series

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strawbby-shortcake · 4 months

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Dating Tyler Durden! ♡︎

Tyler isn't one to wait around with his feelings, so he's very open and honest when it comes to you. He knew what he wanted, so he went to get it.

Honestly though, he doesn't take rejection well. So if you refused him the first time, you'll have to do it again and again until you give in. He'll display grand gestures to prove that he's the man for you.

If you didn't refuse, great! You're now with an anti-capitalist that kicks ass!!! He's not so bad once you get used to him though.

Tyler is a mix between talking a lot and not talking at all. He likes to talk to you about society and how he's going to change it for the better because you actually listen to him.

When he goes quiet, it usually means his mind is at work or he's focused on a task at hand. That doesn't mean he wants you to leave him alone though. He would rather you be by his side while he's planning.

When he starts Fight Club, you're the first one to know. He makes you promise three times that you won't say anything about it to anyone.

You are NOT allowed to fight, but you can watch him beat people up or tell them that they are "not their fucking khakis."

If you really wanted to fight though, Tyler would only allow you to fight him. Of course, he wouldn't hurt you or anything, but he'll get to see how strong you are.

Every member of Fight Club/Project Mayhem is super kind to you and often steals you things from stores. Whether it's because Tyler told them to do it, or they just wanted to, you didn't know.

For example, one day you were out with Tyler and a few of his space monkeys, and they noticed that you were staring at an item from one of the store's windows.

We all know how Tyler feels about consumerism, BUT he makes an exception for you. Plus, it's not like they're going to pay for it *hint hint*

The next morning, you wake up and see the item placed on your bed with a sticky note that has smiley face on it.

You often hear Tyler yelling at the members, but he never yells at you. He's quite respectful towards you.

Tyler takes you with him to all his odd jobs. You help him splice frames of explicit images into family films. When he has to work as a waiter, he seats you at a table and brings all the clean food you want. He gets distracted by you though and goes to your table far more than the actual customer's tables.

HE MAKES AND HE SELLS SOAPPPP!!! So that means you get to help him out and watch! Be prepared for late night liposuction clinic dumpster runs.

The first time you went with him, you threw up because of the smell. Tyler forced himself to throw up too so you didn't feel embarrassed.

If you have a complaint about anyone or someone is bothering you, there'll be a missing person report on the news within the same week. Tyler does not mess around.

Tyler doesn't force you to smoke, and if you don't like the smell of it, he doesn't smoke around you. In fact, if you really wanted him to, he would attempt to quit. It would be near impossible for him though, but you gotta give him credit!

He loves going into alleyways, hotels, or apartment buildings to dance with you. He doesn't care if anyone is watching. He'll probably have several of the guys to keep watch near the building though, just for safety reasons!

He likes to go thrifting with you. He will pick the most non-matching shirt, jacket, and pants and do a whole fashion show in the store and then walk out with it on. No, he didn't pay. He might borrow your clothes too if he sees something he likes.

Smashing cars around town at midnight? Check. Going to Lou's Tavern multiple days a week? Check.

He'll ask you to play with his hair all the time. He loves it when you do because it relieves tension and makes him sink into the floor.

CUTE EXTRAS:

Makes you special bars of soap with your name on it in different colors.

You get to try on all his cool glasses that he owns.

You'll always be protected no matter where you go.

He's extra cautious when he's out since he doesn't want to die without coming home to you. He could be bleeding out or have a limb ripped off, but he'll manage to come home to Paper Street just to see you one last time. But don't expect that because he's not going to die any time soon.

He shares his gum with you.

He's a great listener when you need him to be.

If you tend to his wounds or scold him when he gets hurt, he doesn't complain. He just sits there, grins, and leans in, knowing you'll kiss him afterwards.

He doesn't say "I love you" super often, but when he does, it's genuine.

Teaches you all about glycerin and the wonders you can do with it.

#fight club #tyler durden #tyler durden headcanons #dating tyler durden #tyler durden x reader

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mademoiselle-red · 4 months

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Imagining how Lianhua’s household would celebrate Chinese New Year’s Eve…

On the morning of New Year’s Eve, Lianhua announces to Ah Fei and Xiaobao that he’s got their new year’s eve dinner all planned out.

“Trust me,” he says with unfounded confidence.

Ah Fei narrows his eyes. Xiaobao smiles nervously with trepidation.

On Chinese new year’s eve, Lianhua presents his husband and disciple/adopted child with the following dishes:

Vinegar Fish of the Western Lake 西湖醋鱼

Xiaobao’s review: Amazingly, it tastes just as terrible as the version they serve at the famous Hangzhou restaurant Lou Wai Lou.

(Author note: Seriously, don’t order this “regional delicacy” if you find yourself in Hangzhou. Unless you enjoy the taste of unseasoned steamed fish drowning in vinegar sauce. Order any other fish dish. Like squirrel fish 松鼠鳜鱼 or a plain old steamed fish 清蒸鱼. Also, Lou Wai Lou is a tourist trap. Yes it’s got a long history, and was referenced in the Mysterious Lotus Casebook theme song and appears in Grave Robber’s Chronicles, but no, it is no longer good.)

Osmanthus Lotus 桂花莲藕

Xiaobao’s review: All the ingredients are there and assembled correctly. But why is the flower sauce burnt????

Lianhua: I’ve already ruined two pans from trying to make this sauce! The sugar keeps hardening into rock candy and sticking to my pan! (Caramelization is hard 😭)

(Author note: Do order this dish if you travel to the Yangzhou-Nanjing-Hangzhou-Shanghai area. It’s steamed lotus stuffed with sweet sticky rice and covered in sweet osmanthus flower sauce, what’s not to love?)

Bamboo shoot and chicken soup 竹笋炖鸡

Di Feisheng’s review: Even I am finding it hard to ignore the amount of salt that’s in this soup

Xiaobao: This is salvageable. I’m going to boil some water

(Author note: this is a new year staple in my household 😋)

Longjin Shrimp 龙井虾仁

Fang Duobing’s review: This is actually ok. But then again, it’s hard to really mess this dish up. But I don’t taste the tea. At all. It’s just stir-fried shrimp. Where is the Longjin?

Lianhua: Young Master Fang, do you know how much Longjin tea costs???

(Author note: I tried making this dish at home. It is stir-fried shrimp in a sauce that incorporates Longjin tea. It’s hard to get the tea flavor right without it either not coming through or becoming too bitter. The stir-fried shrimp part is pretty easy.)

After dinner, Xiaobao receives a very bulky red envelope from Lianhua and gets very excited. He opens it, revealing eight bank notes, each worth only one silver tael. His face drops and he begins to pout but Lianhua reminds him that he is a broke old man, while Xiaobao stands to inherit one of the largest fortunes in the country.

Di Feisheng reluctantly hands Xiaobao a very thin envelope. “My accountant prepared it for me. I don’t know anyone I’d consider my junior 晚辈, so you can have it.”

It’s one bank note worth 800 silver taels.

Both Xiaobao and Lianhua gasp in shock.

Lianhua: “Do I get one too? You’re a bit older than me, you know.”

Di Feisheng: “Have you got no pride?”

Lianhua: “Ah Fei gege” 🥺

(Note: gege means “older brother” in Chinese)

#莲花楼 #mysterious lotus casebook #can you tell I’m a foodie?

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allwaswell16 · 9 months

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Happy Fan Fic Writer Appreciation Day 2023!

In honor of this day, here are the first lines of fics written by some of my favorite One Direction fan fic writers! This post gets longer every year, but we are incredibly lucky to have such talented writers writing fic for our fandom. I truly just had to stop somewhere though. (You can find previous year’s lists and my other recs here.)

Harry stretched in bed with a smile.

“Ah!” Louis hissed when the needle touched his finger.

Wanted: Dog Walker.

Harry’s stomach growls as he walks down the pavement toward Mercury Chicken.

Louis woke up to someone grabbing his ankle and tugging lightly.

Everyone is expected to be back in the office a minimum of two days a week starting the first full week of December.

Harry is drunk.

Louis is late.

Harry leans his forehead against the thick glass window, peering into the nursery, trying to figure out which one of the babies is his.

The first time Louis sees him, it’s from the stage.

Oli can't remember a time when Louis Tomlinson wasn't an integral part of his life.

“This is really good, mate.”

Harry had always fantasized about being in a romantic comedy.

If you had told Louis Tomlinson a year ago that he would be celebrating his birthday by kissing the man who has turned out to be the love of his life on a Church Street park bench in Burlington VT (where he now lives) as the snow drifts softly down, he would have told you that you were extremely imaginative.

He was back.

Louis Tomlinson is in a foul mood.

“Doctor!” Harry’s voice calls from deep within the recesses of the TARDIS’ vast wardrobe, the room shaped like a massive wagon wheel with a lounge in the center. “I think I found it!”

When Harry hurt himself in front of all of his coworkers, he thought his Christmas Eve couldn’t get any worse.

Louis surges forward, his arm shooting through the automatic elevator door on a reflex when he sees a familiar looking woman striding towards the elevator.

Louis opened the door, carefully pushing against the old wood on its rusty hinges.

It was a once in a lifetime storm; a hurricane had come to the Mediterranean.

Louis is running late for coffee with his mates.

“Don’t.”

Thunder cracks through the inky sky as Harry scurries into the bar.

The studio lights were bright.

“Are you fucking with me?” Louis wails, then metaphorically claps a hand over his own mouth.

Seven.

“Lou, I have an idea and need your help.”

Louis is three pints in when he notices someone looking in his direction.

They’re about to be caught.

If there was anything people needed to know about Louis, it was that he was not a morning person.

It was a nice normal day.

Louis fidgeted in his seat, his knee bouncing from the force of his pent up energy.

Observant.

Louis slams his tray on the slightly sticky table and pulls back the chair.

It starts, as any great story starts, at a dinner party.

Harry relaxes in the bathtub, sliding down so the water covers her shoulders.

Louis nervously tugs at the collar of his shirt.

“Thanks for shopping at Victoria's Secret. Have a great day!”

Harry couldn’t breathe.

Louis has been single for 369 days, and the last place he wants to be is at a wedding.

The moment Harry clocked in, he was already rolling his eyes and wishing he could clock out.

Louis was so fucked.

Harry hummed along with a song he didn’t know the words to as he changed Max’s diaper before bed.

♥ Thank you writers! ♥

@lululawrence @nouies @louandhazaf @haztobegood @greenfeelings @londonfoginacup @disgruntledkittenface @pocketsunshineharry @kingsofeverything @jacaranda-bloom @thedevilinmybrain @laynefaire @uhoh-but-yeah-alright @phdmama @absoloutenonsense @neondiamond @crinkle-eyed-boo @evilovesyou @brightgolden @sun-tomato @becomeawendybird @fallinglikethis @jaerie @littleroverlouis @sadaveniren @ladyaj-13 @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed @2tiedships2 @perfectdagger @all-these-larrythings @alwaysxlarrie @reminiscingintherain @homosociallyyours @skipperxao3 @greenblueish @waterloux @beelou @daggerandrose @itsnotreal @lunarheslwt @loveislarryislove @thinlinez @hellolovers13

#fan fic writer appreciation day #ficrec #1dficvillage #hljournal #hlcreators #trackinghappily #trackinghome #tracksintheam #1dsource #hltracks #I'm only sorry I couldn't put it every single writer i love!#and I tried this year to put in only active writers in our fandom #listen i've been agonizing over this post for months oof #but i didn't want to NOT do it #just know i love you all

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themagicalghost · 3 months

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We've all been Sticky Lou at some point

#toontown #toontown rewritten #ttr #toonblr #I like how blunt this is

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maesterchill · 10 months

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heaven to gaudy day

Drarry, ~800 words, Mature. Written for @drarrymicrofic prompt 'Shade'. Dedicated to @lettersbyelise as a wee birthday gift! Happy birthday, lovely! I hope your day is filled with all the things you love and you can relax with treats and cake. Thanks to @tackytigerfic for the speedy looky-lou.

“So… should we talk about it?”

“No.”

Malfoy’s reply comes swiftly and furiously, and Harry tries hard to subdue the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Because Malfoy’s still here, in his bed. Though he’s clearly not happy about it.

It's hot as the eighth circle of hell outside, as it always is at this time of the year in Havalimanı, according to the locals. The arabesque grille in the window provides welcome shade, but their Cooling Charm hasn't lasted the night. Which is only to be expected when you cast spells drunk on rakı and lust.

Harry squints at the git's sulking form in the fragmented light of morning.

His ill-tempered work partner—and Harry’s 'husband', for the duration of this mission—is staring intently at the wall with his back to Harry. Only his head pokes out from the blankets that are pulled tightly around him, his hair still a sticky, fluffy mess after last night. Harry has a desperate urge to ruffle it, but he also prefers to keep his hand intact.

It was an unexpected turn of events that led to them washing each other’s backs with black soap paste in a steamy Turkish bathhouse, but after their mark plied them with the local firewater and invited them to talk business in his private section of the hammam, it had seemed like a brilliant opportunity, mission-wise. After all, Harry and Malfoy were ‘married’, and what was a little nakedness between spouses? They couldn’t let on to Mesut, the Dark Artefact dealer, that they were uncomfortable with it. Nor could they insult their host’s hospitality and jeopardise the mission.

So, when Malfoy turned and faced the wall, presenting Harry with his flushed, sweaty back, his shockingly white arse exposed and looking smooth and baby-soft, Harry had to make sure that his soap-rubbing looked intimate and sensual rather than perfunctory.

How was he to know that Malfoy would make those soft, trembly noises?

How was he to know how quickly he’d get turned on?

Try as he did to concentrate on other things—the bitter, refreshing smell of the soap, the intricate mosaics on the wall behind Malfoy’s splayed fingers, deciphering the cagey responses from Mesut as he himself was soaped up rather vigorously by a pretty male attendant—Harry couldn’t help the blood rushing south as inappropriate thoughts filled his head, thoughts of his fingers slipping even further south, following the dark, foamy rivulets of water as they took the path of least resistance at the base of Malfoy’s back. And when Malfoy returned the favour, Harry could barely think never mind breathe in that stifling heat, the weight of the world melting as he let Malfoy take care of him—spreading soap everywhere, everywhere except there, where Harry’s arousal hung, heavy and needy.

It was no wonder they tore each other's clothes off in a rough frenzy as soon as they’d got the evidence they needed to prosecute Mesut and Apparated back to the shadowy sanctuary of their safehouse.

“Well,” Harry says, thinking he might as well be the mature adult about this. “I liked it. Thought it was nice… really nice. And you know what, I think we should…” He tentatively runs the tips of his fingers over Malfoy’s blanketed hip, but His Grumpiness jerks away.

“Just shut up.”

Harry stays quiet for a bit, studying the sullen lump in front of him, then opens his mouth again.

“Do you want brekkie? I think there are some of those puff pastry börek left over from yesterdays’ brunch. The sweet ones. They’re under stasis.”

Malfoy is silent, and Harry waits. Then, gruffly, “I just want coffee.” His voice is a little hoarse, and Harry’s groin throbs with the memory of why that is.

“Suit yourself,” Harry says, and he climbs out of bed, reaching for his discarded robes. There’s one gold button still clinging on bravely; the rest are still scattered across the tiles. Two minutes and a Reparo later, he’s dressed, and Malfoy is still staring at the wall.

Curious, Harry walks around the bed, and finds Malfoy with the most confused, puppy-like expression he has ever seen. He hides his laughter and crouches down, close. Malfoy withdraws from the edge of the bed as Harry approaches, but he’s no match for Harry’s insistence. Harry bends forward and kisses Malfoy lightly on his still-swollen lips, grinning at the way Malfoy stares at him with wide, grey eyes, his cheeks red as shiny pomegranates.

Then Harry stands up, retreats a few steps and heads for the bedroom door.

“Wait,” Malfoy calls.

Harry pauses and turns around, casting a questioning glance Malfoy’s way.

Malfoy’s looking up at Harry now, a hand at his forehead shading his eyes. “I've changed my mind.”

Harry frowns. “You fancy börek after all?”

“No, dickhead. Come back to bed.”

#happy birthday Elise!#Hope you have a fabulous day #drarry #drarry microfic #maesterchill writes

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