#so the buttons in the bowl is supposed to be like. cereal idk

[comicbookddr]

Free Shipping from now until September 8th!

I've been working out my shipping rates over the past few days, and I figured it would be fun to have free shipping right before launching it! So go buy yourself some fun pins/kandi bracelets, all handmade by me!

Click here to check it out!

[livingmybestfictionallife]

Live Wire --The Dirt--13

Summary:  Wren Ledden, Tommy’s best friend from high school, has had a rough life, and she intends to keep the nitty gritty details of her suffrage to herself until the day she dies. Only Tommy has gotten her to open up about a small portion of her troubles, and it’s only Tommy who she trusts with her life. That is until her life gets turned around sneaking into a concert one night…the same night Motley Crue is born.

Warning! This chapter contains attempted physical abuse. Please be cautious when reading if this triggers you.

A/N: Idk if the slow pace is killing anyone or if you’re liking not having time jumps, so let me know because I’m debating adding a time jump, but I don’t really have to. Please respond with any feedback!

Previous Chapters: Masterlist 

Nikki grumbled as he rolled over in bed, the uncomfortably cinched leather pants from last night still clung to his legs, and slowly, last night returned to him. Vince’s dumb ass shooting coke in the bathroom, Wren angrily disposing of the coke he and Tommy were snorting, him yelling at her, her storming off to her room after slamming a man into the ground, and him going to bed shortly after, still fuming.

As he attempted to stand, his brain pounded against his skull and a straining pain pierced through his eyes. A groan escaped his lips as he felt the alcohol and cocaine hangover in his gut and head. The only solace from his pain was the intoxicating aroma of coffee that drifted through the crack under his door. Slowly, Nikki stood and made his way towards the kitchen, silently hoping he wouldn’t encounter a soul. As his sock-clad feet fell along the carpeted hallway, his frustration with Wren grew as his presence in the living room brought back all the anger he felt the previous night. He knew she was already awake. The lingering aroma of coffee had woken him up, and at first it was comforting, a sensuous reminder of her—mint and coffee either together or apart always led to him thinking of Wren—but as the image of her fist colliding against that man’s face flooded his mind, Nikki couldn’t control the boiling in his blood.

He couldn’t put his finger on why it bothered him so much. He knew Wren was hot headed, that she has reacted violently out of anger before, and that her ability stand her ground had even been something that he admired about her. Why was last night different for him? Why did the smell of coffee leave a hardened knot twisting around in his stomach? Why did he not want to see her? As Nikki found his way into the kitchen, he poured himself a bowl of cereal and lingered in the crevices of the apartment where he hoped she wouldn’t see him.

Suddenly, all of Nikki’s other senses began to overpower those of smell, and he was able to push the scent of coffee from his mind. As he scanned the kitchen, guilt fell over him as he realized Wren had cleaned up the mess he, Tommy, and Vince along with their guests had made the night before. His hands shook slightly as he held the bowl, a side effect from the anxiety he felt as well as the craving he had to drink in order to forget his frustration with Wren and hers with him. His ears could hardly pick up the steady patter of water through the wall behind him as well as the high-pitched squeak that follows when someone turns off the shower. Quickly, Nikki placed his bowl on the counter and desperately searched the apartment for any trace of Tommy—maybe it was him and not her in the shower. Maybe she was gone already. Be serious, where would she have to go? Where would you have to go?

Wren shoved a towel along her limbs and sighed in frustration as she realized the towel wasn’t drying her, rather it was pushing all of the residual water from her skin to the floor. Fuck it, she thought as she examined the puddle around her feet and quickly tied her hair up in the towel, one of the other assholes who live here can clean it. She slipped her legs into her shorts and pulled them up to her waist before she shoved her arms into the sleeves of a t-shirt and shimmied it down her body. She stepped out of the bathroom and wrung the ends of her hair out in the towel, paced past her room and through the apartment to hang the towel over the banister outside to dry. Only upon re-entering her home did she realize she was no longer alone.

“Oh, hey,” she said softly upon noticing the flattened mop of raven-dyed hair poking out from the kitchen.

“Hey,” Nikki offered apathetically in return. He didn’t turn to face her, look her in the eye, or even speak her name. Wren held her tongue. Don’t over react. He’s a dumbass who got wasted last night. He’s just hungover, she tried to reason away Nikki’s obviously sour attitude, but on some level, she was even more angry with him now than she was the night before.

“What time were you wanting to work on some new stuff? I have to call the Roxy at some point today, but that’s all I—”

“I’m not feeling it today.” Whether or not he meant for that simple sentence to cut down any semblance of civility Wren was upholding, Nikki succeeded in pressing a button he knew would cause her to self-destruct.

“You’re ‘not feeling it’,” she mimicked with a tinge of venom in her voice. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m not in the mood,” Nikki hissed in return as he threw his plastic bowl in the sink and allowed the spoon to clink and clang around in a fury.

“Probably because your dumbass decided to do coke last night,” Wren hissed under her breath as she lowered herself onto the armrest of the couch and folded her arms across her chest.

“Why is that such a big fucking deal to you?” Nikki gasped as his voice raised in aggravation.

“Why is it such a big deal for you?!” Wren snapped in return as she narrowed her eyes and furrowed her brows at him. Both Wren and Nikki glared at one another with their jaws clenched, eyes narrowed, and noses pointed directly ahead. Tunnel vision enveloped them as they spouted insults across the room, and neither noticed Tommy had emerged from Wren’s room wearing nothing by his underwear and a hesitant expression as he examined the scene before him.

“It’s not,” Nikki grumbled as he defiantly took a step forward.

“Then cut that shit out! The band isn’t nearly successful enough for you to fuck it up for us!” Wren snapped.

“For me to fuck it up? I’m on that stage every night playing, what are you doing?!” Wren pursed her lips and sighed heavily in retaliation of Nikki’s words.

“Hey, come on, man. Knock it off,” Tommy’s voice was barely enough to cut through the bellowing from either of his closest friends.

“I’m getting you gigs! I’m marketing you sorry, coke shooting fucks!” Wren jumped up and shouted in response to Nikki’s jaded comment.

“It’s just coke! It’s not amphetamines or fucking heroine! So get that stick out of your ass and back off!” Nikki shouted his hostile words across the three feet that separated them.

“Dude, leave her alone,” Tommy immediately stated as he stepped between the two.

“Come on, Tommy,” Nikki grumbled at the lanky teen pretending to be a barrier between him and Wren. “Clearly she doesn’t need you, or anyone to fight her battles.”

“Yelling at her doesn’t do anything but make her even more mad! You’re just pissing her off to have her pissed off, Nik!”

“Is that what you’re in a mood about?” Wren scoffed as she poked her head out from behind Tommy.

“You made me look like some weak punk!” Nikki countered with fury in his eyes. “You made me look like I need a girl to fight my damn battles when I was headed over there to help you.” Wren folded her arms tightly across her chest and met Nikki’s eyes once Tommy had fallen back to stand beside her.

“I’m not going to pretend to be weak and defenseless to boost your ego! You were piss drunk and fucking high! You could barely stay standing let alone do any real damage to that asshole,” Wren huffed as she paced towards the front door, grabbed her sneakers, and jammed them onto her feet. “Fuck this. I don’t have to sit here and listen to you bitch at me for dumb shit you can’t even vocalize to me because you’re too high at the time to process your emotions,” she grumbled as she tied her laces tight against her feet and swung the door open before taking off down the steps and through the street in a light jog.

Tommy lowered his eyes and pursed his lips so that he was glaring an Nikki. His long brown hair was stringy with sweat from last night’s performance, he needed a shower, and he was expected to be at a girl’s house in less than two hours, yet there he stood, grimacing at the oldest person who lives in their apartment for being a dumbass.

“Get off my dick, Tommy,” Nikki groaned in irritation at the look on Tommy’s face.

“She’s only pissed because she gives a shit about you, you dumbass,” Tommy stated as he punched Nikki in the arm hard enough to make him realize how much of an ass he was being. “She’s pissed because she gives a shit about all of us, about the band,” his voice trailed off as he continued to explain to Nikki the way Wren’s emotional reactions work. “You were a dick, asking her what she’s doing for us. She’s doing more than either you or I could and you just shit on that! I told you from the beginning, she’s a deal-breaker. You don’t get to treat her like shit when she’s just trying to protect Mötley. Wren is choosing to be here, choosing to help Vince with vocals, to help write with you, to help us fucking make it. She could be finishing her Bachelor’s degree somewhere on a full-ride scholarship, but she’s here. She doesn’t fucking need us. We need her!”

“So, I’m not allowed to have a problem with her every now and then? I’m just supposed to get over it if she does something that pisses me off?” Nikki scoffed.

“Yelling at her only makes things worse for both of you. Just talk to her. You’re twenty-three, Nikki. Do you honestly mean to say that a twenty-year-old girl is more capable of responding like an adult than you are?” Tommy sneered as he retreated to Wren’s room to grab a change of clothes from the dresser.

“Wren’s nineteen, just like you,” Nikki’s voice traveled through the rooms of the apartment and into Tommy’s ears.

“No, she’s twenty. Yesterday was her birthday you asshole! You need to make this right.”

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

Wren carefully counted her paces as she ran in order to make sure she was breathing in and out on opposite feet. In school and sports, she hated running, but sometime during her last year of high school, she began to see running as something therapeutic. She cherished her alone time, but often hated to be stuck with her thoughts for longer than a moment. Running seemed like the only solution at the time; not only does she get to be alone and distracted from her thoughts, but she also gets to have the sensation as if she’s running away from her problems. She knew that she would have to go back to the apartment at some point and that like herself, Nikki has no where else in the world to be. It was inevitable that they’d cross paths again in the next ten or twenty minutes, but at least by then she’ll be too tired to fight with him.

After going south on Clark street, cutting behind the Whisky A Go Go, turning south again on Hilldale avenue, and running along the Sunset boulevard until she passed the Roxy, Wren turned around. She still had to call the Roxy, and although she was already at the venue, she didn’t want to represent the band as a sweaty jogger. Still not quite ready to end her run, Wren decided to lengthen her route by continuing north on Hilldale until it intersected with Ozetea Terrace, and then turn right and head south on Clark street.

As she grew closer to the apartment, Wren could make out a vehicle parked along the back side of the apartment building. A black, 1975 GMC pick-up truck was barely visible, and Wren decided to quicken her pace. It wasn’t uncommon to notice strange cars in strange places in Los Angeles, but due to her time living alone on the streets, she was privy to the any danger that could that present itself from that situation. As she approached the stairs leading up to her apartment, Wren noticed the silhouette of a man leaning against the building. He was of relative height and weight, yet everything about him was too familiar. Hazel eyes poked out from strands of long, mousy brown hair that fell over his face, and his hollow cheeks seemed to fill once Wren had finally returned to the building.

“A friend told me where I could find you.” His voice brought back memories of not being able to breathe, of being thrown around, hit, and overpowered. A small, weak, ‘no’ fell from her lips as Wren dashed for the stairs. “You’re not getting away that easy this time!” he growled as Wren hurried to leap up the steps three at a time. She could feel his slender and grubby fingers graze her leg as she took her last two leaps and strides up the stairs and sharply kicked back in defense.

After flinging open the door and closing it shut behind her, Wren cursed her roommates for deciding to take the locks off the door for the party last night. “Tommy!” Wren called out and quickly scanned the room in search of her friend. Quickly, the footsteps outside grew heavier and heavier as Clay came closer to catching her. Heart pounding and tears threatening to spill from her eyes, Wren sprinted through the apartment to the very last room, Nikki’s room. She opened the door and slammed it shut and hastily attempted to turn the lock between her shaking hands. “Nikki I--”

“What do you want? An apology?” he hissed without even looking up from the guitar he held in his hands.

“Please, Nikki,” Wren pleaded as her shaking hands caused the already loose door handle to jiggle uncontrollably.

“I’m not just going to forgive you for--” Nikki’s voice faltered when he finally brought his eyes to the woman before him. Her normally porcelain features were phantom white, her eyes were coated with a heavy veil of tears that she refused to let fall, and he could feel the anxiety and adrenaline that pulsed within her veins as if they were his own. He’d never seen anyone look as terrified as she did in that moment, and her fear put their spat into perspective. She needed him and that was all that mattered. “Wren, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“He’s here,” she panted through deep breaths.

“Who’s here? In the house?” At his words, the pair could hear a fist begin to pound on Wren’s bedroom door.

“I told you I would find you,” Clay hissed as crashing sounds began to occur around the house. He was moving around, searching for her, invading all privacy of their home.

Nikki noticed Wren had frozen the moment she heard his voice. She stopped trying to lock the door, she stopped shaking, she almost stopped breathing in an attempt to be so quiet she couldn’t be found. Throughout the silence of the room, he could hear the steady rise in the sound of footsteps as the man neared where Wren had run to for safety. In a swift movement, Nikki hurried towards Wren, grabbed her by the arms, and pulled her away from the door. As he pushed her behind him, he could feel her fingers tighten around his and the shakiness of her hands from earlier manifested in her grip. He knew she wasn’t capable of letting go of him in that moment, which would make fighting this asshole fairly difficult, so he was careful to keep his bass within reach. As both Nikki and Wren watched the door knob turn and the door creep open, they each tightened their grasp on one another; one in desperate need of support, and the other assuring he wasn’t going anywhere.

“There you are,” the intruder sighed as he locked his sights onto Wren. “Come on, you know we have some unfinished business to get back to.”

“You need to leave,” Nikki stated firmly as he glared at the man before him. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-one or twenty-two, but the small scars on his face made him appear older.

“And what are you going to do about it?” Clay huffed at Nikki, indifferent to his presence.

“Get the hell off this property and stay the fuck away from her, and in return, I won’t kill you where you stand.”

“Really, Wrenny? You’re going to let this guy speak for you?” Clay scoffed as he peered past Nikki and at the sweaty, broken woman behind him.

“Leave me alone,” Wren stated, and although her voice was firm and unwavering, her hands trembled within Nikki’s. At her words, Clay began to make his way forwards. Step by step, he closed in on Wren, even with Nikki acting as a human shield between the two.  Nikki pulled his hand free from Wren’s grasp and threw a solid punch in Clay’s direction. His knuckles cracked when his hand collided with the side of Clay’s face, and Nikki let out a brief shout.

“Run! Go!” Taking heed of his instructions, Wren managed to slip past the two men just as Clay’s fist made contact with Nikki’s face.

“Nikki,” she called out, only to hear him repeatedly yelling for her to run away. Wren tried to take off in a sprint, but not even a second after Clay punched Nikki across the face, he shoved him against the bed and turned to chase Wren. Throwing himself after her in a full-fledged dive, Wren felt her body collide with the ground as another body was pressed against hers. A hand found her breast while another groped along her stomach and ribcage as she writhed beneath the weight of his body and the weight of his torment. As quickly as his body landed on her, it was shoved away. Wren scurried away from where she lay and retreated back into the safety of Nikki’s room to try and keep herself from breaking down. Her breaths were choppy and incomplete, her heart thumped and pounded as if it were that of a racehorse after a derby, and her stomach was emptier than it had ever been, yet it churned with the urge to vomit.

With each passing second, Nikki’s hands began to ache more and more as they took turns striking each side of Clay’s face. Right and then left, right and then left, right, left, right, left; one after the other, Nikki pounded into Clay’s skin until he begged for mercy. Wren saw nothing. She didn’t see Nikki brutally beat Clay for attacking her, she didn’t see him retreat from their home, she couldn’t even hear Nikki’s screams as Clay ran from the apartment and down the stairs to his vehicle. She had her back pressed against the wall and her side pressed against the mattress on the opposite side of the room as the door, attempting to hide from the initial line of sight as she scraped the tears from her eyes and tried her hardest to steady her hands. For a long time, she could feel nothing other than the beat of her own heart and the deep inhales of her own breaths, or at least until Nikki entered the room.

Bloodied, beaten, and bruised, Nikki made his way to where Wren sat. His arms wasted no time in snaking around her back, his head hurried to rest on her shoulder, and his chest ached to be against hers. All he wanted was to reassure her that she was safe. His insecurities from earlier were moot, his anger with her and hers with him had all faded away into dust. Without thinking, Wren crawled closer to Nikki so that she sat on his lap and clung to him as if her life depended on it. A smile crossed his lips and he held her even closer than he had before. Every now and then a hot tear would connect with his skin, but slowly, her tears stopped, her breathing stabilized, and they were simply holding each other. All Nikki wanted was to stay in that moment, and so he held his arms tightly around the woman he never wanted to let go of, and prayed with all his might to anyone who would listen to please not take her away.

Continued Reading: Chapter 14 

Tags: @prettyyoungandbored, @hot-young-runningfree, @crue-sixx, @oskea93, @dancergirl5527​, @thatonemoviefan​, @motley-queen​, @american-satanxx​, @infernalrats​, @gothpanda​

[hazzasgayvodka]

give the people what they want

alright so last night I challenged you all to send me your best asks/requests and I would compile them all into one single story to the best of my ability and let me tell you, I have done just that

HARRY WITH SCRUFF GOING DOWN ON YOU PUHHLEASEEE

DADDY KINK DADDY KINK DADDY KINK

Thigh riding pls !!!!

um i’m not creative but imagine harry as like a superhero ahsdkfjdsklj idk just do whatever you want with it lmao

PLEASE write a blurb with harry’s hands and the rings he’s wearing right now because those pics made me H O R N Y 

Fluff # 14 (”Do you ever shut up?”) do whatever you wanna do with that because your writing is phenomenal!! Maybe add some smut though ??

I literally just need more cocky h content in my life please go off queen and give the people what they want ALRIGHT

TWO WORDS: PAIN. KINK. 

Don’t care how you work it in, I trust your judgement “It’s 8 o’clock in the morning you are not having vodka” 

PART TWO OF LIKE A VIRGIN I STG IF YOU DON’T

I JUST WANT YOU TO INCLUDE TWO SIMPLE WORDS: “Bed. Now.” 

Harry meeting all your friends for the first time and he’s like nervous I guess idk something like that would be cute love you :)

SAY IT WITH ME GIRLS! STONER H! STONER H! STONER H!

H BEING OBSESSED WITH YOUR ASS PLS AND THX

please more stoner!h maybe like some shotgunning or smokerings like that shits hot 

WAKING UP NEXT TO H PLS THATS ALL I WANT

H’S LAME DAD DANCE MOVES LIKE FINGER GUNS AND GRINDING UP ON YOU ALL CHEEKY

H DRESSED LIKE YOUR ICON THAT IS ALL THANKS 

okay but h in his yellow vans or yellow in general yeah that 

PAINTING H’S NAILS OR HIM JUST HAVING BLACK NAILS PLEASE

hahaha don’t kill me but what IF H HAD A FACE TATTOO

So, with all of those asks said (and many repeats not voiced because GOD you guys really wanted like a virgin part 2) HERE IT IS

in which you’re going to your friend’s wedding and bringing h along after just meeting him last week at a party

ENJOY! 

You peel your eyes open to the sunlight coming in through the window, squinting in the brightness and rolling over to see Harry still dead asleep, curled up beside you. His eyes are fluttered closed, his arm lazily draped across your stomach and you don’t even think about it as you reach up to run your hand through his messy mop of hair.

“Y/N,” He groans, scrunching his face up, “Let me sleep, woman.”

“You forgetting what today is?” You ask, leaning over to peck his cheek before standing from his bed.

“Tuesday?” He sighs, finally rubbing his eyes and sitting up.

“Try Thursday,” You laugh, grabbing your pair of panties from the floor and wiggling as you pull them up your legs, “And it’s my friend Tiffany’s wedding, we’ve been over this.”

He holds his head in his hand, running his hand through his hair to get it out of his face before finally looking up to meet your eyes, “Are you sure we have to go to that?” He grimaces.

“I’m sure I have to go,” You shrug, slipping on one of his button-up shirts, “You don’t have to come with if you don’t want to, but I’m pretty sure my friends are going to be on your doorstep with pitchforks if they don’t get to meet you soon.”

“Wait,” He says, suddenly more alert as he pushes himself out of bed finally, “This is like a meeting the friends thing?”

“Well yeah, but it’s not like a big deal-“

“What did you tell them about me? You didn’t tell them that we fucked at that party, did you?” He asks nervously.

“I mean yeah,” You shrug, laughing, “I just told them that I met you at Louis’ party and we got drunk and a little high and slept together and now we’re kind of hanging out.”

“Oh my god,” He sighs, running his hands through his hair again as he pulls on his ripped jeans from yesterday, “God they probably think I’m some fucking loser-“

“They don’t think that.” You assure him, rolling your eyes.

“Y/N! You told them that I got you cross faded and then fucked you upstairs at a frat party!” He shouts, trying not to laugh.

“Maybe you should plan your conquests more accordingly,” You smirk, tossing him his pink hoodie from the back of his desk chair, “You never know when you’ll end up dating one of them.”

“Woah, woah, woah, sweetheart,” He grins, pulling on his hoodie and following you into the kitchen, “I thought you said we were absolutely not, under no circumstances, ‘dating’.”

“And I stand by that,” You nod, starting the coffee pot, “But I think for the sake of today, my friends will ask a lot less questions if I just introduce you as my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” He smirks, smacking your ass as he walks behind you to get to the cereal in the cupboard, “That’s one hell of a promotion from casual booty call, don’t you think?”

“Oh, is that what this is?” You tease, bumping your hip against his as he reaches into the fridge.

“You tell me, babe.” He laughs, coming away from the fridge with the bottle of Smirnoff in his hand.

“Harry, what are you doing?”

“Starting the day off right,” He shrugs, grabbing a mug, “Gotta get through this wedding somehow.”

“What? No,” You chuckle, snatching the bottle out of his hand, “It is eight o’clock in the morning, you are not drinking vodka.” 

“It’s only eight o’clock?” He scoffs, “Why the fuck am I not in bed right now?”

“Honestly,” You giggle, shoving a mug of coffee in his hand instead, “I expected it to be a lot harder to wake you up.”

“Oh, lovely,” He groans, rolling his eyes, “God, I’m gonna smoke a bowl.”

“So, you’re not driving today then?” You ask, quirking your eyebrow up at him as he lights his pipe and inhales deeply.

“Um, yes…?” He says uneasily, clearly trying to read you and what you want him to say.

“Good,” You grin, patting his chest and leaning in to peck his lips, “Because I plan on taking full advantage of the free champagne.”

He shotguns a puff of smoke into your mouth and you cough as he laughs, leaning back against the counter, “I guess I won’t complain about that.” He says, wiggling his eyebrows at you rather suggestively.

“I don’t know what you’re insinuating Styles,” You tease, “But whatever it is, I can assure you it won’t be happening until we leave the wedding.”

“I mean, I’m free right now,” He smirks, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you to him, “And would you look at that, you’re already half undressed.”

  You collapse against the mattress, struggling to pull oxygen into your lungs as Harry chuckles from between your thighs, his arms still hooked around your knees. He leans his head against your right leg and you nearly jump out of your skin as the stubble on his cheek rubs against the skin of your inner thigh.

“Jesus, H!” You squeal, shoving him away, “God you need to shave your face.”

“What? You don’t like it?” He grins deviously, purposefully rubbing his prickly face between both of your thighs and making you writhe under him.

“No, it tickles like a bitch!” You giggle, sitting up and grabbing his face in your hands to tug him up the bed to kiss you instead.

You can feel his stubble beneath your hands as you hold his face to you, moving your mouth with his. Part of you loves it, just the slightest bit of roughness rubbing against your fingertips. He pulls away from you and you take his lip between your teeth, tugging it towards you, your eyes flickering open to catch a glimpse of his eyes fluttered closed. Your eyes dart to his lip and you swear you see the edges of a tattoo, thin black lines peaking out from the backside of his bottom lip.

“H?” You laugh, pulling away from him fully and grabbing his lip between your fingers, “Do you have a lip tattoo?”

He grins mischievously, his eyes glittering as he brushes your hand away and folds his lip over himself so you can read it, “Maybe,” He shrugs, “It says bite me, it was a dare.”

“Mhm, sure it was.” You nod, leaning forward and pressing your lips against his again.

“I swear it was babe!” He chuckles, shuffling off the bed to follow you to the bathroom to start getting ready.

You shake your head as you grab your toothbrush and start brushing your teeth while Harry takes to shaving his face. You meet his eyes in the mirror and he sticks his tongue out at you as he runs his electric razor back and forth over his cheeks just to trim down the stubble on his face.

“So how dressed up am I supposed to be getting for this thing?” He asks, wetting his hands under the faucet and running his hands through his hair to sort it out.

“I mean, a suit would be nice,” You nod, grabbing your makeup bag, “If you have one.”

“If I have one,” He scoffs, turning to you and leaning on the counter, “What kind of man do you take me for, sweetheart?”

“One with a lip tattoo,” You tease, patting his chest patronizingly, “Sweetheart.”

He rolls his eyes, squeezing your ass as he passes behind you to start the shower and strip out of his clothes. As nice as he looks in the tight ass pair of ripped black jeans and the bubblegum pink hoodie, he definitely looks better standing there in his plain black boxer briefs. You feel your cheeks flush when your eyes meet his and he raises his eyebrows before he tugs down his boxers too.

“Like what you see there, babe?” He grins, sending you a wink as he slides behind the shower curtain just before you can reach out and hit him, “Hey, watch it woman!” He laughs, peaking back out of the shower and meeting your eyes in the mirror again.

“Hurry up, Styles,” You scold, “We’re leaving in half an hour.”

You finish putting on the rest of your makeup while Harry spends most of his shower trying to convince you to join him. After already wasting most of the morning naked in his bed you regretfully decline and slide back into his bedroom to put on your dress. You’re just shimmying the skintight fabric over your ass when Harry walks back into his room with his towel hanging dangerously low on his hips.

You can feel his eyes on you as you grab your heels from your duffel bag in the corner, strapping them to your feet while he slides on a pair of Spider-man boxers. He walks over to his closet and shuffles all the way to the back, dragging out a plain all black suit and his one simple white button up.

He shrugs on the button up, leaving the top three buttons undone before tucking it into his black slacks and sliding on his black jacket. It fits him like a dream, and you have to physically drag your eyes away from him while he adjusts the collar of his jacket.

“Spider-man huh?” You smirk, grabbing your clutch.

“You bet,” He chuckles, grabbing his yellow vans from the bottom of his closet, “Gotta conceal the web shooter.”

“Gross,” You groan, shoving him over as he laces his shoes up on his feet, “Are you seriously wearing those?”

“I’m wearing a suit, aren’t I?” He asks, throwing his arms in the air, “What more do you want woman?”

“Fine, fine,” You sigh, shaking your head as he throws on his cross necklace and grabs the rings off his bedside table, sliding them on his fingers, “How many rings you gonna put on, H?”

“As many as I want to,” He nods matter-of-factly, showing off his hands when he’s finished, “It’s a wedding isn’t it?”

You can’t help but laugh as you take his hands in yours, tracing over his giant gold rings with his initials etched into them. H.S. He’s been way too cocky about them since he first got them a few days ago, making big talk about branding your ass with his name but he hasn’t acted on it yet.

“I like your nails,” You grin cheekily, remembering the other night when you convinced him to let you paint his black to match yours.

“I do too actually,” He nods, clearly surprised himself, “It looks kinda sick.”

He grabs his phone and wallet, shoving them into either pocket of his pants before snatching his keys off the counter and twirling them around his finger. You follow him to the door and out to his car where Start Me Up by The Rolling Stones starts blasting as soon as he starts it.

“Sorry.” He chuckles, turning the radio back down and backing out of his parking spot.

You’re leaving a little later than you had originally planned in order to make it there on time what with Harry’s morning antics but you’re still feeling rather optimistic about making it on time until you hit a huge block of traffic on the freeway.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You huff, letting your head hit the seat behind you.

“Just hang on babe,” He laughs, resting his ring covered hand on your thigh and giving you a squeeze, “We’re only missing the boring part, we’ll be there in plenty of time before the reception.”

You roll your eyes as he runs his hands through his hair for the hundredth time, complaining once again about how he really needs to get a haircut before he goes rummaging in his glovebox. He sits back up with a pair of white clout goggle sunglasses and slides them on top of his head, holding his hair back out of his face.

“You cannot be serious.” You laugh, snatching them off his head and sliding them on yourself.

“Hey,” He defends, “I’ll have you know it was Elton John that made these cool.”

“I’ll have you know that no matter how hot you think you are, you cannot pull these off.” You smirk, popping them back on his head.

You both arrive to the wedding way past the ceremony. By the time you enter the banquet hall, the reception is already in full swing. You hook your arm through his and lead him around the room, looking for your nameplate on one of the many tables.

“Y/N! You’re over here!”

You look up to see your friend Heather calling you over to the table. You grab Harry’s hand and start to pull him behind you over to the table, but he stops in his tracks, dragging you back to him.

“I don’t think I can do this.” He says nervously.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s no way they’re gonna like me, I’m in fucking Vans at a wedding Y/N, what was I thinking? God, I let you paint my nails black and I’m too sober for this-“

“Harry,” You say seriously, grabbing him by the shoulders, “I like the fact that you’re in Vans with your nails painted at a wedding because it’s you, and I happen to like you, just a little bit, and they will too.”

“And if they don’t?” He asks, scrunching his face.

“Then who cares,” You sigh, grabbing his hand again, “They’re not the one sleeping with you, they don’t have to like you.”

A small grin finally turns up one side of his mouth and you lean forward, pecking his lips before threading your fingers through his and leading him over to the table.

“Oh my god, you must be Harry.” Brynn smiles as soon as you’re both in ear reach and he reaches his hand out to shake hers, but she grabs him in her arms to hug him instead.

“Oh, you’re Harry!” Heather squeals, “We’ve heard so much about you!”

You send her a death glare just as Harry looks at you over his shoulder with the cockiest smirk you’ve ever seen plastered on his face, “Oh, is that so?”

“Well obviously, she nearly dropped off the face of the Earth after meeting you,” Brynn shrugs, “We had to know all we could about the man Y/N is spending all of her time with.”

Your cheeks are nearly flaming when the words come out of Brynn’s mouth and you wish you could reach across the table and shove them back in when you feel Harry’s eyes on you again. You wish you could melt into the floor and go back in time so this interaction never happened just as the DJ comes on the speaker and announces that food will be served in ten minutes.

“Thank god, I’m starving.” Harry grins, taking the seat right next to Brynn and patting the empty chair next to him.

You sit through nearly an hour of your friends relentlessly grilling Harry and he doesn’t seem phased by it at all. The jittery, nervous man you walked in with is nowhere to be found as he recounts stories flawlessly and keeps them laughing the whole night. You even learn a few things yourself, like the fact that he’s actually a huge literature buff. You vaguely remember him recognizing the book you were reading at the party you met at but to be honest that whole night is kind of a blur.

Soon enough, you’re being dragged out to the dancefloor by none other than Harry who is grooving around with some of the worst dad dance moves you’ve ever seen. You don’t know what it is about Harry that made you assume he’d be a good dancer but clearly you need to work on your judgement.

“Oh, come on Y/N, what are you, a statue?” He scoffs, grabbing your hands and pulling you to him, swaying your arms and spinning you around.

“I don’t really dance, Harry.” You laugh, nearly tripping on your own feet.

“Tonight, you do,” He nods, grabbing your hips, “Come on sweetheart, let’s see those moves.”

You shake your head, rolling your eyes as his hands move your hips in figure eights, swiveling them around. He moves his own hips opposite yours, grinding into your backside and occasionally pressing a kiss to your cheek or the back of your neck.

“There you go, you’re getting it.” He grins, letting go of your hips and letting you move on your own.

“Sure I am,” You laugh, watching as he throws an imaginary lasso in the air and starts tugging you to him with it, “Really? The lasso, Harry? That is so old school.”

“I prefer the term classic.” He smirks, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you into his chest.

You open your mouth to reply but you’re cut off as the DJ’s voice comes back through the speakers, letting everyone know that the bouquet toss is about to happen at the front of the banquet hall.

“Well, get on up there, babe.” He laughs, nodding his head towards the crowd forming at the front of the room.

“Oh, it’s alright, I don’t really want to-“

“Come on darling, you’ve got to at least try for the bouquet.” He sighs, grabbing your hand and tugging you over to everyone himself.

He leaves you to stand right between Brynn and Heather before seeing himself over to the group of guys standing off to the side. He sends you a wink when he catches you looking back over at him and your cheeks are blushing almost instantly.

You watch as your friend Tiffany is sat on one of the banquet chairs in front of everyone and her new husband Mason makes a whole show of sneaking under her dress to retrieve the garter from her leg. The crowd goes wild when he finally stands up with the garter between his teeth and you find yourself looking over at Harry to see him with his fingers in his mouth, whistling.

Both Tiffany and Mason turn around and suddenly the garter and the bouquet are both in the air. You’re hardly paying any attention to the spectacle until suddenly the bouquet is landing right between you and Heather. She clearly catches it but quickly hands it off to you, shoving it into your unwanting arms.

“Heather, what are you-“

You’re cut off as she nods her head over to the group of guys where Harry is standing at the front of the pack with the white lace garter held above his head. You can’t help but shake your head, biting your lip when your eyes meet his and he raises his eyebrows, shrugging innocently.

“How many people did you have to tackle to get that?” You smirk, both of you crossing the space between the divided groups to stand in front of each other.

“About six,” He shrugs, grinning ear to ear, “A small price to pay of course.”

He leads you over to the chair in the middle of the crowd as the hollering grows louder and when he grabs your hand and brings it to his mouth to kiss it, you take the opportunity to shove him on his ass in the chair and snatch the garter from him yourself. His mouth his hanging open in shock as you hand him the bouquet instead and swing your leg over him, straddling his thigh with your back to him. Suddenly the screams from your friends and the rest of the crowd around you are deafening as the music gets turned up a couple notches and you hold the garter in the air.

His hands find their way onto your hips, but you turn around on his lap, grabbing his hands and folding them behind his head instead, “Hands to yourself, Styles.” You scold and he grins even wider.

You bend over to reach his foot, giving him a perfect view of your ass straddling his thigh and you can hear him suck in a breath. You start to work the garter over his bright yellow Vans just as you start to grind down onto him, swiveling your hips the same way he was moving them earlier on the dancefloor and everyone starts to cheer, egging you on. The friction of his dress pants against your hardly clothed clit makes your thighs shake almost instantly as you continue moving the garter further up his leg, over his knee. His hands suddenly grab your hips, ceasing your movements and you don’t bother snapping at him again, if you keep going, you’re gonna end up coming on his leg.

You stand back up, laughing nervously as you feel your thighs clenching and everyone erupts in a chorus of shouts to which you bow and jokingly thank everyone for coming to the show until you feel Harry’s hand grab yours and tug you away from everyone.

“Harry, what are you-“

You’re cut off as he drags you into the bathroom, checking the few stalls for anyone before locking the door and turning back to you. He moves his hand from resting on his leg over his dress pants and you know exactly what’s wrong when your eyes land on the wet spot across his thigh.

“We’ve got a bit of a situation, sweetheart.” He laughs, clearly more amused by the condition of his pants rather than angry as you previously assumed.

“God, I’m sorry, I didn’t think I was, I didn’t know-“

“Hey, it’s cool,” He says seriously, grabbing your face in his hands, “Are you alright though? You’re obviously fucking soaking down there, love.”

“It’s fine, we can’t-“

“We very well can.” He corrects, his hands moving to grip your ass.

“Harry-“

“Yes sweetheart?” He grins, cutting you off before you can tell him to stop.

You sigh, shaking your head when you can’t fend off the giant smile that wants to spread across your face when you meet his devious smirk any longer, “You wanna get out of here?” You ask finally.

“Yes, god, I thought you’d never ask.” He says eagerly, grabbing your face in his hands and smashing his lips onto yours.

You rush back out to his car, quickly saying your goodbyes before latching onto each other as soon as you’re out of the building. You’re a mess of limbs, grabbing at anything and everything just to get closer to each other. His hands are roaming you over your dress as you stumble over to his car and you push him up against it. Your lips find their way down his neck and he rolls his eyes back in his head, his mind going fuzzy. You reach your hand into the pocket of his slacks and grab his keys, unlocking the car before opening the door and shoving him into the driver seat. You slam the door closed and run around to the other side, collapsing in the seat beside him before climbing over the console and straddling his lap.

“You wanna pick up where we left off, princess?” He grins, his hands latching onto your hips and already moving you against him.

“Harry, I can’t, your pants-“

“Already gotta be washed,” He shrugs, cutting you off, “Let’s make it worth my time, yeah?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes as he bites his lip, staring down at you before grabbing the lever on the side on his chair and leaning it back. His chair is as far back as it can go now, giving you every bit of the space you need while his eyes are nearly glued to your thighs straddled over his own. His hands are cemented to your hips, pushing you down onto him and nearly dragging your barely clothed heat against him, all the way back to the edge of his knee before yanking you right back into his lap.

You’re already on the edge and you can see the tent starting to stand up in Harry’s pants. His eyes are still focused on you, watching your every move as you ride his thigh, your dress now fully bunched up around your waist. You try to detach your mind from the immense pleasure coursing through you and grab at the waistband of his pants, but he stops you almost immediately.

“No, not right now sweetheart.” He grunts, grabbing your hands in his.

“But Harry-“

“God, so stubborn,” He laughs, grabbing you by the chin and tilting your face to meet his, “All the fucking time.”

“I am not-“

“Do you ever shut up?” He jokes, “I want this babe, promise you, want you to get yourself off on just my thigh, okay?”

You know your cheeks are flaming now as he grins that big mischievous, dimpled smile and places his hands back on your hips, this time up under the confines of your dress, and you nearly jump out of your skin when you feel his cold rings brush against you. You laugh as you put one hand down on his thigh to steady yourself as your legs start to shake and come across the thin lace garter. You smirk as you slide your fingers under it, stretching it away from his leg before letting it snap back against him. He ruts against you instinctively, his hips bucking up suddenly and a strangled groan falls past his lips before he can catch it.

No way.

You do it again, snapping it harder and his hand suddenly reaches out, grabbing yours and taking it away from the garter. His eyes meet yours, his pupils blown out and wild and that’s when he finds your mouth. You sigh into his mouth, content with his mouth and hands roaming you, the coil in your stomach tightening with each flick of your hips.

Harry is on fire beneath you, he’s sure. His lips are moving slowly and heatedly on yours, his tongue dipping into your mouth when it feels right and making you grind down onto his thigh even harder. He was joking earlier about making it worth his time to wash his pants but he’s certainly getting more than he bargained for now. He can feel your wetness soaking though his slacks, drenching his bare skin but he won’t dare tell you that. His cock is fully hard in his boxers, just about screaming at him to do something, his subconscious is flabbergasted, the devil on his shoulder is reminding him that you’re one layer away from being naked down there and ready for him to fuck you senseless, all he’d have to do is yank down your panties and move you over a few inches, but he pushes all of that to the back of his mind and revels in the sight of you instead. He wants to see you without the distraction of his own pleasure, he wants to see you get yourself off without worrying about catering to him as well.

“Harry, fuck, I can’t,” You stutter, your voice faltering as pleasure rakes through you and your hands find his shoulders, in need of something solid to grip onto, “Fucking hell.”

He’s studying every detail of your face as you come undone. There’s so much blood flowing in the opposite direction he’s actually starting to feel lightheaded. He’s not sure how much more he can take as you writhe above him, desperately grinding yourself down on him. He lifts his leg up, holding you in place and adding some extra pressure. You’re gasping loudly when he does so, almost falling forward and collapsing against his chest as your whole body tenses.

“Come on love, almost there.” He coaxes, keeping your hips moving for you.

Your face twists up, your mouth falling open, your head tilting back as his name tumbles from your mouth in breathy whispers and he reaches forward, grabbing you around the waist so you don’t fall backwards on the car horn. He pulls you into his chest, burying your face into his shoulder while you’re still heaving desperately for air. He’s grinning like an idiot, tucking your hair behind your ear and leaning over to kiss your pouted lips. You shift in his lap, trying to lean up to meet his mouth again but your knee brushes the bulge in his pants, and he chokes a bit, letting out a throaty groan and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Sorry,” You chuckle, “Want me to-“

“Nope,” He quips, lifting you off of his lap and setting you back down in the passenger seat, sitting his chair back up and starting the car, “Want you in my bed princess, not the backseat of my car.”

As soon as you pull up in front of his apartment, he’s shutting the car off and getting out. You meet him in front of the door, and he doesn’t waste any time grabbing his keys and shoving them in the lock, pressing you up against it.

“Bed. Now.” He says roughly, meeting your eyes and you swallow thickly as he pushes you inside and kicks the door closed behind him.

The edge to his voice reminds you of the absolute pool in your panties and suddenly you’re yanking him to you by the collar of his hardly buttoned shirt and shoving his suit jacket off his shoulders. He’s kicking off his Vans, stumbling over himself as his mouth moves with yours and he tugs his slacks down. He breaks away from your mouth for less than a second to drag your dress off and toss it behind him before capturing your mouth with his once again and walking you backwards until your knees hit the bed.

He’s about to push you against the bed and climb on top of you when you spin the two of you around, throwing him against the mattress instead. His eyes are wild and filled with anticipation as he leans back on his elbows, dressed in nothing but his fucking Spiderman boxers.

“Y/N, what are you-“

“Do you ever shut up?” You mock, using his words from earlier.

That devilish smirk finds its way onto his face as you climb on top of him, straddling him for the third time today. You thread your fingers through his hair and latch your lips back onto his, tugging his hair roughly and eliciting a groan from his lips. You do it a second time and he pulls away from your lips, wincing and gasping.

“You like that, huh?” You grin, “When it hurts?”

His eyes flutter open and his pupils are fully dilated, his irises blown out like you’ve never seen. God he’s loving this. Your fingers trace over the sparrows inked on his chest and he’s nearly shaking, you know he’s just about ready to burst after what happened in the car.

“Is that why you’re all tatted up?” You ask innocently, grinding your hips into his.

“Maybe,” He groans, his voice catching in his throat, “It feels good, the pain.”

You shake your head as you push him the rest of the way down until he’s flat against the mattress. He’s still breathing heavily, gasping every time you touch him and nearly growling as he writhes against the sheets when you finally grab him over his boxers.

“Please god let me fuck you princess, please.” He begs, bucking his hips off the bed to meet your hand.

You can’t help but laugh at his pleading state as you slide his boxers down his legs, your eyes growing wide when you realize the wet spot from his slacks soaked through to them as well. He’s still grabbing at you while you finish undressing yourself, making a show out of easing your soaking panties from out of your slit and dragging them down your legs before undoing the clasp of your bra and flinging it behind you as well.

He hisses as you take him in your hand, leaning over to grab a condom from his bedside table and rolling it over him painstakingly slowly. You tease him, running his tip just over your entrance and the strangled noise that comes pouring out of his mouth is enough to get you off without him even laying a hand on you.

“Fuck, so good,” He pants, his hands thrashing as he tries to decide where to put them, bouncing around from your hips to your thighs to fisting the sheets, “Shit, I can’t, jesus I’m lightheaded.”

It’s so different seeing Harry in a state like this where he can’t even compile a complete sentence. He’s always the one sending you into a frenzy, always spitting out some crude remark that makes your thighs squeeze together, always so eloquently calm, cool, and collected, now reduced to a writhing mess of whimpering underneath you.

You finally give in and slide onto him, your mouth falling open when he glides in so easily, instantly covered in your arousal. He bucks his hips up to fuck into you, his knuckles white as he fists the sheets.

“B-Bleeding hell,” He sputters, squeezing his eyes closed, “God so fucking warm.”

You release the sheets from his hands and put them on your waist instead, wishing he’d wrap his hands around you that tight. He delivers on your wish, digging his fingertips into your skin as he holds you in place and bucks his hips up to meet yours, clearly not satisfied with the pace you’re setting.

You thread your fingers back through his hair and yank harshly, eliciting a moan from his parted lips. That stupid grin finds its way back onto his face as he recovers from it, his eyes fluttering back open.

“Do it again,” He nods, his hands moving from your hips to knead your ass, “Harder.”

Your thighs squeeze around his hips as the words come out of his mouth and you know he’s onto you when he bites his lip as you tug his hair once again. You lurch forward suddenly when his hand meets your ass with a smack.

“Shit, sorry, I thought you’d-“

“Shut the fuck up and do that again.” You pant, cutting him off and leaning forward to give him better access.

“Hang on,” He breathes, easing you off him to which you whine in complaint, “Come on princess, you’re gonna love it.” He grins wickedly.

He shoves you on all fours, yanking your ass back into the air and suddenly you’re thrown back to the first night you met in the upstairs bedroom of that stupid frat party. He leans over you, biting the back of your shoulder as he slides back into you and both of you suck in breaths as he fills you back up.

“Christ, H.” You hiss, reveling in the way you can feel him so much deeper this way.

He doesn’t reply, simply picking up the pace and rubbing his ring covered hands over the swell of your ass. You’re waiting just about as patiently as you can, wiggling your ass in the air and trying to get him to make good on his promise.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” He laughs, pinching your ass playfully as he carefully spins his rings around on his fingers, making sure all of them are facing the palm of his hand instead.

You don’t expect it when it comes, the sudden smack and the delicious sting burning your skin afterwards. You lurch forwards, grinning and begging him to do it again to which he obliges, littering your ass with pretty pink handprints and darker purple bruises in the vague shapes of his initials.

“God, you’re fucking ruining me darling.” He groans, thrusting into you again just as his hand meets your backside and you bite your lip to stifle the sounds threatening to come out of your mouth.

A little heart followed by H S are imprinted all over your sore ass cheeks when he finally collapses against your back with a shout of your name. He kisses the back of your shoulder, gently massaging your stinging ass as you come down from your high, peeling your eyes back open and turning over to meet his gaze.

“You okay?” He asks nervously, taking in the state of your backside.

“Way better than okay.” You laugh, grabbing him by the face and pulling you down to him.

Your lips meet with a smack and you can feel him smiling against your mouth as he lays back down on top of you. You feel the harsh contrast of his rings as his hands roam your skin and your cheeks flush.

You pull away from his lips, quirking your eyebrow up as you meet his eyes, “This doesn’t mean I have to start calling you daddy or anything, does it?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m opposed to the idea.” He shrugs, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“God, fuck off!” You laugh, shoving him off of you and smacking him with a pillow.

Hope you guys enjoyed, I had so much fun writing this honestly I might have to make this a reoccurring chat night thing here on my lil blog 

[theginia]

for the fluffy ignis prompts how about brotherhood era ignis working himself into the ground basically (i imagine he's v hypocritical about self care) and any or all of the bro (your choice) taking care of him. idk after the trailer i really want someone to take care of ignis but in a low stakes environment ya feel?

Thedigital numbers on Ignis’s alarm clock flick to 5:00am and on cue incessantbeeping shatters the silence of his small apartment.

Witha jolt the eighteen-year-old Chamberlain sits up in bed, a hand coming downautomatically to flick the silence button on the alarm.  He sighs, shoulders slumping beneath thesuffocating weight of expectation and duty.

Mechanicallyhe pushes himself out of the bed he’d only collapsed into a mere three hoursago. The reports that he spent half the night compiling and summarizing areneatly stacked upon his desk, though, and the sight of them fills him withmingled pride and exasperation. Pride at his ability to consolidate a mountainof needlessly verbose documents into a sleek and streamlined packet that fitseasily into a small folder. Exasperation at the knowledge that there is a roughly3% chance that Noctis will do anything more than glance at the documents hecarefully prepared, shuffle some of the pages so that it looks like he wentthrough them properly, and then abandon them on the coffee table to be buriedbeneath a mountain of candy wrappers and comics.

Heremembers being told that he is to be the pillar that will support Noctis wherehe is weakest. Lately it feels like Noctis is weak in every aspect of hisduties, and Ignis is being ground down into a fine powder beneath the weight ofNoctis’s demands.

Sighinghe pads into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and fix himself a bowl ofcereal. Moping will serve no purpose other than to take up more of his valuabletime and he cannot afford that. He’s barely scraping together a few hours atthe end of a workday to sleep as it is, and he’s lucky to steal a few minutesbetween appointments to inhale a protein bar or down a mug of coffee. He needsto run his day like a well-oiled machine if he has any hope of performing hisduties to the standards expected of House Scientia. Not working himself intothe ground is a distant secondary consideration as well.

Theday begins like so many others. He readies himself quickly, slipping into aneatly pressed suit, grabbing his briefcase and a thermos of coffee on his wayout the door. He has to stop at tailor’s to retrieve a new uniform jacket forthe Prince, since he noticed that His Highness is showing far too much wrist atthe cuffs. Then it’s off to the Prince’s apartment to prepare a far moresubstantial breakfast than his own and clean up whatever mess thesixteen-year-old managed to make since Ignis left last night before getting himbundled off to school in his new jacket. Then a morning full of Councilmeetings, an audience with the King afterwards, a meeting with Cor regarding theCrownsguard training he hasn’t had time for lately, another Council meetingwhich he will need to excuse himself from early to pick Noctis up from school.If he’s lucky he can get in a few minutes of studying while he waits in the car,and then it will be off to a private tuition session with the Prince, followedby helping him with his homework while also again attempting to steal a fewmoments to glance over his own textbooks. After that he imagines Noctis willrelocate to the couch to play games while Ignis cleans the apartment andprepares dinner. Afterwards he will return to the Citadel just long enough toretrieve a copy of the minutes for the meeting he left early so that when he’sup until midnight summarizing his notes for Noctis he can also review those andadd them to his summary if they prove to be relevant.

Andthen lather, rinse and repeat with little changing day to day other than thespecific subject of a meeting or tutoring session, or whether it’s Cor, Clarus,His Majesty or some other official who monopolizes his lunch hour. The lyricschange but the tune remains the same as his mother was fond of saying.

Theday passes much as expected, in a haze of exhaustion with the occasional momentof coffee-fuelled alertness. Anyone else would have been alarmed by the weak,trembling feeling in his hands, and they would have noticed the dark shadowsinvading his field of vision, dimming and erasing the edges of his world.Anyone else would have gone home and gone to bed long before what happened toIgnis happened to them.

Igniswatches in the rearview mirror as Noctis slowly makes his way towards the sleekblack Crown-issued sedan. The Prince moves with an unhurried stride, his nosean inch away from his phone screen, presumably texting Prompto or playing oneof those mobile games that Ignis fails to see the appeal in. A tiny voice inthe back of his mind implores Noctis to hurry up – they’re already behindschedule, Ignis was a few minutes late picking him up from school thanks tonearby road construction and detours, and they will only fall further behind asthere’s no way to avoid it en-route to Noct’s apartment.

Whenthe Prince is finally within range of the car Ignis unbuckles his seatbelt andopens the car door, moving with fluid grace to the rear passenger door, openingit for his Prince with a modest bow.

Or atleast he intends to.

Hedoes manage to get the door open, and Noctis is about to slide onto the paddedleather seat when Ignis suddenly wobbles in place. As if in slow-motion he seesthe ground swirling before his eyes, rising steadily to meet his suddenly numbbody.

It’sonly when he hits the asphalt with a sickening thump and a jolt of agony thathe realizes that the ground didn’t move, but rather he fell face first at hisPrince’s feet.

Thelast thing that he remembers hearing is the Prince’s startled cry of “Specs?!?”before his senses fade into the merciful oblivion of unconsciousness.

Athrobbing pain and a bone-deep ache greet Ignis when he eventually surfacesinto the world of the conscious. Eyes closed, he carefully takes inventory ofhis injuries. Nothing seems to be broken, probably just scraped and bruised.The worst damage has likely been done to his pride.

“Youwith us there, Specs?”

Tiredgreen eyes slowly open, and a blurry black and white image slowly coalescesinto an upside-down view the Prince’s features, peering worriedly down at him. Ittakes him a few moments to realize that the soft, lumpy something cradling hishead is the prince’s lap.

Mortifiedand ashamed at using his Crown prince in such an undignified manner he attemptsto right himself. “Apologies, Highness,” he murmurs in a voice made flimsy withweakness. “Please allow me to-.”

“Shutup,” Noctis snaps and Ignis goes stiff with alarm. Is Noctis angry with him? Hehas every right to be, of course. All he had to do was pick him up from schooland drive him home. It’s a simple enough task that almost anyone could do, yethere he lies, a broken failure of a Chamberlain.

Ahand drifts into Ignis’s field of vision and for a confused second he wondersif Noctis is about to strike him – which would be grossly out of character forthe Prince, but then again passing out on the job is grossly out of characterfor Ignis. Instead though all he feels is a soothing brush of fingertipsagainst his brow, combing through tangles of fine sandy hair.

“Justlie there quietly, ok? Gladio’s on the way,” Noctis says, his tone soft,tremulous with obvious concern.

Ignishums in quiet acknowledgment and closes his eyes.

Hemust have drifted off again because the next thing he knows he’s laid out atopa marvellously soft bed that feels more like a bed of candyfloss than amattress, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. It’s familiar, he realizes aftera moment. He’s just not accustomed to viewing it from this angle, sprawled onhis back. He’s in the guest room of Noct’s apartment, where Prompto usuallystays. There’s even a plush chocobo next to his pillow from the last time theblonde stayed the night.

Hecan hear soft voices drifting down the hall from the next room.

“Ididn’t know, how was I supposed to know? No one ever tells me these things!”

“What,you think the cleanliness fairies come by your place twice a day to pick upafter you? Or the paperwork pixies prepare those reports? Of course it’s Iggy.He does everything for you, on top of his own schoolwork and Crownsguardtraining – which is also for your eventual benefit might I add.”

“I’msorry!” Noct cries, followed by a sharp shushing sound from Gladio.

“Keepit down, Charmless. You’ll wake him. And Titan’s rock hard fucking dick heneeds all the shut eye he can get.”

“Iknow!” Noctis hisses in a furious whisper. “I know that now, okay? I’m sorry. I’lldo better.”

“Goodto hear. Don’t apologize to me, though. Apologize to Iggy when he’s feelingbetter.”

There’sa pause, soft words that don’t quite travel to Ignis’s ear.

“Yeah,he’d like that, Highness. See, it’s not so hard, being considerate of otherpeople, huh?” A sharp smacking sound rends the air and Gladio chuckles. Noctmust have punched him, though obviously not hard, likely not in genuine anger.

Anhour or so later (it’s hard to tell, he keeps drifting in and out ofwakefulness) the door to the guest room creaks open a few inches and a pair ofwide blue eyes peek shyly at Ignis through the gap.  Smiling meekly, the young Advisor lifts ahand in greeting before letting his arm flop limply at his side.

“HeySpecs,” Noctis murmurs, opening the door fully and walking into the room. “Howyadoing?”

Elbowsdigging into the mattress, Ignis pushes himself to a partially reclined position.His head spins and he closes his eyes for a moment until the world rightsitself once more.

“Wellenough,” he finally says.

ThePrince moves to sit on the edge of the bed, his pale fingers twisting togetheranxiously. Ignis’s heart jolts at the sight and he forces himself to situpright, blinking away the remnants of exhaustion that still threaten the edgesof his consciousness.

“Hungry…?”Noctis says softly and, misunderstanding it for a request and not a question,Ignis nods and swings his legs over the side of the mattress. “Of course, I’mso sorry, Noctis. What would you like? I’ll make whatever you wish by way ofapology for my earlier failures.”

Noctisshakes his head, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “No, Ignis. Are you hungry?”

Itshouldn’t be a difficult question to answer, but somehow it is. He’s soaccustomed to putting his own wants and even needs aside that he hardly knowshow to gauge his own body’s demands. After a few thoughtful moments heeventually nods.

“Good,‘cause I kinda ordered all of your favourites. Just gimmie a minute to heat itup.”

Warmthfloods Ignis’s exhausted, neglected body. “Highness … Noct. You didn’t have todo that.”

Sapphireeyes roll dismissively. “Considering that you’ve been working yourself into theground on my behalf, Specs, yeah I kinda did. And I need to do a lot more foryou, too.”

Ignisshakes his head slowly.

“Yes,Ignis. I do. Gladio helped me make up a chore calendar so I can keep on top ofeverything around here so you don’t have to. He’ll pick me up from schoolMondays, Wednesdays and Fridays when I have training with him, and he’ll dropme off here afterwards so you’re not running around so much. And, and… I’llstudy with Prompto after school,” at Ignis’s doubtful look he presses on “Noreally. Like actually study. No videogames until we’re done of our homework andeverything, so I won’t need as much help from you.”

“Noctis…”Ignis blinks against the veil of tears obscuring his vision. “What on Eos did Iever do to deserve such a wonderful friend?”

A wetbubble of laughter spills from Noct’s lips. He sniffles, wiping his nose withthe back of his hand. “Don’t be stupid. You’re the best, Ignis. The best. Youdeserve the whole damn world.”

Theirarms tangle together in a tight embrace, neither of them certain who made thefirst move, they simply fall into each other like magnets, only tearingthemselves away from each other when Ignis’s stomach growls, and Noctis,laughingly, heads to the kitchen to heat up the container of tomalley-filleddumplings and wild rice he’d ordered for his friend.