#...at least a sliver about ME and my little world

[writeforfandoms]

Born for Greatness bonus 2

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One of the more common requests was for some of the courting between Price and momma bear! So, here we have some of their courting. Just bits and pieces. I hope you enjoy! 💖

Warnings: Swearing, kissing, shifter behavior, world building. 

Word count: 1.4k

It no longer surprised you when the pack sought you out to eat with you (or dragged you away from whatever you were doing to make you eat). It didn’t even surprise you that John sometimes shooed the others off and got the two of you a spot to yourselves, or that he sometimes brought food for the two of you to his office. 

And then he pulled out all the stops and did something like this.

“What’s all this?” You blinked at the pack room, the table actually set with a tablecloth and plates. 

“Dinner.” John’s voice was dry but he couldn’t keep the humor out of his eyes, even as he pulled out a chair for you. 

“I can see that.” You sat and watched as he served you, a little flustered. But only a little. “You do know you don’t need to show off for me, right?”

“What if I just want to?” He glanced at you as he set your plate in front of you before making his own. 

“Well, I’m certainly not going to stop you.” You breathed in deep, enjoying the aroma of non-mess hall food. “Did you send the boys out?” 

“Just Gaz.” John shrugged, totally unapologetic. 

You chuckled. “I appreciate the extra effort.”

John flashed you a smile, small but warm. Dinner was the easy kind of quiet that you hardly ever got - unhurried, with no pressure to talk, both of you at ease. And the food was good. 

And then he pulled you into cuddling on the LoveSac, insisting he’d clean up later. Which turned into making out on the LoveSac. 

When you finally pulled back from him, panting, mussed and warm, he just followed you to kiss your throat. 

“Could get used to this,” you mumbled, scratching the back of his head gently. 

“Which part?” he asked, lips brushing against your skin. 

“All of it,” you admitted, squirming a little, trying not to be embarrassed.

He hummed, low and thoughtful, even as he gently nipped your throat. “Good to know.” And then he set back to work, apparently determined to ruin you. 

At least until Gaz walked in, yelped, and backed out again. 

A couple days later John showed up at your room, knocking on your door. 

“Care to go for a walk?” 

“Sure.” You stood, stretching briefly (and pretending not to notice how his gaze dipped to the sliver of exposed tummy). “Where are we going?”

“Just around.” John shrugged. “No destination in mind, love.” 

You nodded and locked your room, following him outside and then tucking your hand into the crook of his arm. 

“Never expected to want to court someone,” he murmured once the two of you were away from the buildings. “Always figured I’d just have my work.”

You hummed softly, letting the words settle between you for a moment. “I never thought I’d want to be part of a proper pack,” you admitted. “Or that I’d accept a courtship.” 

“Guess we’ve both changed.” He smiled a little. 

“Not a bad thing.” You shuffled a little closer to him. “I’m glad.”

“As am I.” He pulled you off the path and behind a tree, leaning back against the trunk and guiding you to lean into his chest. 

“If I’d known I’d get this many cuddles I’d have said yes sooner,” you joked, settling your arms around his waist and happily cuddling into his warmth. 

He snorted softly, resting his head down against yours. “Don’t tell Soap that,” he muttered. “Or I’ll never be able to pry him off you.”

You stifled your laughter against his chest, delighted. 

The first time the team had to go on a mission and leave you was not easy. You weren’t actually very happy about it, and John had been grumping for days. 

You did not see them off that morning; you and John agreed it would have been distracting. Instead you said good night to them the night before. 

Half of you expected that would be it. You had some things to do to keep you busy, and you were arranging to go visit Logan. 

But you were still pleasantly surprised to find a little package waiting for you in the morning when you did finally leave your room. 

For you while I’m away, was all the note on top said. The package had a soft shirt of John’s and a scarf. 

You wore the scarf until you arrived at Logan’s, and slept in the shirt every night. 

Yeah, this courting business was not bad at all. 

One thing you hadn’t truly considered was that you’d have to meet other people. 

But Soap insisted you meet his family, and Gaz wanted to introduce you to his family (apparently both families had met the rest of the pack already and wanted to meet the newest addition). 

And then there was Kate Laswell. The only person John insisted you meet. 

Kate Laswell was not a shifter, but she worked with them enough that she knew the manners. She only met your gaze for a moment before focusing on your chin. You smiled. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said, holding out a hand for a firm handshake. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I get that a lot,” you joked. “Nice to finally have a face to put to the stories.” 

“Hopefully they haven’t told you too much.” She definitely eyed the boys. 

“They probably only broke a few NDAs,” you said casually, grinning at the immediate outburst that got you. 

John huffed as he settled one hand on your hip, pulling you into his side. “Behave,” he grumbled at you.

“Only when necessary.” But you relaxed into him, finally used to the touching. 

Kate’s lips quirked in amusement and she started walking. “I knew recommending you for the job was a good idea.”

You blinked at her. “You did?” 

She nodded, as if that shouldn’t be a surprise. “Logan talked about you occasionally, I knew you’d be a good fit.”

You actually stopped dead. “You know Logan?” 

“Known him for years.” She smirked, clearly amused as she looked back over her shoulder at you, even as John prodded you into walking again. 

“CIA shit,” Ghost muttered from behind you. 

“Well, that feels a little contrived.” You narrowed your eyes. 

Kate shook her head. “Only that I suggested you be the one to get the job,” she said. “Nothing else.” 

You still weren’t thrilled, but you went quiet, letting John keep you close. 

It wasn’t until the next day that you had a chance to talk privately with Kate. 

“How upset are you, and how much of that is because you think you were pushed into this?” 

You huffed a little, not truly surprised that she could read you so well. “I’m not sure upset is the right word,” you mused. “And I know I wasn’t pushed into this relationship. You may have suspected that John and I would get along, but there was no way to know for certain that he’d end up courting me. Logan couldn’t even have predicted that.” You tapped your fingers against your thigh, frowning a little. 

“Agreed.” She didn’t try to touch you, just giving you a bit of space. “So, what is bothering you?” 

You slowly tipped one hand back and forth. “I… am not sure I can explain.”

“Try?” She leaned back in her seat, ankles crossed. 

You blew out a slow breath, tipping your head back a little to look at the weak sunshine. “I know I made my own choices. I’ve turned down jobs before, so I don’t feel like I was pushed into this one.” You made a face. “I think it bothers me that you implied you knew this would happen.” 

“Fair,” she allowed. 

You shrugged. “It’s not a deal breaker, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I wasn’t.” Her smile was a little flicker. “John’s stubborn, he’d do whatever he needed to keep you. And my wife would probably kill me if I messed that up for him.”

You finally relaxed, smiling. “Yeah? Sounds like my kind of person.”

She chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll meet her at some point. We’ve had John for a few holidays.” 

The rest of the afternoon was much easier, both of you falling into telling stories about your families. (Yours were mostly about Logan but you had a couple good stories about your new pack, too.) 

When the two of you came back inside together still laughing, John looked a little terrified and immensely pleased.

[messiahzzz]

while it’s perfectly fine to have your own headcanons that are non-canon compliant — by all means, go wild. recognizing pieces of yourselves in fictional characters can be a very healing and validating experience. this is nonetheless a casual, well-intentioned reminder that gale, in fact, does not have bpd.

bpd is a pervasive pattern of instability affecting interpersonal relationships, self-image, and mood. the disorder is marked by impulsivity beginning in early adulthood and is present in a variety of contexts. a diagnosis requires at least 5 of the following 9 criteria to be met:

Fear of abandonment

Unstable or changing relationships

Unstable self-image; struggles with identity or sense of self

Impulsive or self-damaging behaviors (e.g., excessive spending, unsafe sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating).

Suicidal behavior or self-injury

Varied or random mood swings

Constant feelings of worthlessness or sadness

Problems with anger, including frequent loss of temper or physical fights

Stress-related paranoia or loss of contact with reality

source: [x]

i highlighted the criteria that do apply to gale in one way or another in a pretty purple.

i personally believe that it’s rather harmful to equate his relationship with mystra with her being “his fp”. she is a deity, his goddess, and the source of his powers, who is in in full control of the magic he wields.

gale: mystra commands all magic. salvation, if such a thing exists, is hers to bestow or withhold.

gale has been effectively groomed and conditioned to serve and revere her at every turn since early childhood. imo this comparison really undermines a lot of crucial points in gale’s story that deal with his overall trauma and abuse. after all, you wouldn’t call shar sh*dowhe*rt’s fp either.

gale doesn’t revile mystra, nor does he commit benevolent deeds solely motivated by the secret hope that she will somehow notice and take him back. when you meet gale in the game he has already fully come to terms with the fact that he has been abandoned by mystra with no hope of reconciliation whatsoever. he also had some very fitting lines in ea regarding this topic that i'm sad haven't been repurposed in the full release in some way.

gale: [the tadpoles] don't know that some things are impossible. they don't know that... they don't know. player: what is impossible about what you're being shown? gale: forgiveness. gale: it is mystra i see. and yet it cannot be her. there was a time when i would have believed - but no longer. gale: suffice it to say she would not bestow upon me the favors promised in these dreams. that is how i know they are delusions.

he has already reached the stage of acceptance. moreover, gale only starts to realize that mystra might have been in the wrong for requesting his death once the tadpole squad & tav speak some sense into him. and even then he doesn’t ever show that his emotions regarding mystra are anywhere along those lines. he is instead rightfully angered that she only saw value in his death, after he had been worshipping her loyally for years.

gale: i worshipped mystra loyally for years, and in that time she granted me the barest sliver of the power i was ready to wield. gale: even with the fate of the world at stake, she had little more to offer me than the means of blowing myself up at a more convenient time. she's done nothing to help us.

gale: you abandoned me in my hour of greatest need. i had no obligation to help you in yours. gale: because you had no right to ask that of me. you cast me out, remember?

gale doesn’t display rapid changes in mood either. he is a character who is generally very composed and has been known to remain nonchalant even in the face of utter horror. tim downie himself even commented on this once. source: [x]

the only instance i can think of is his sudden switch from resigned-to-death to utter-eye-sparkling-enthusiasm once he spots the crown of karsus. apart from crucial story reasons that i won’t touch upon in this post, i’d also like to add that it’s a rather common phenomenon for people who have just barely survived a suicide attempt to suddenly be filled with zeal and unbridled energy. he doesn't display impulsivity without thorough consideration when it comes to its acquisition either. he considers this a golden opportunity and is positively enthusiastic and elated that this might prove an alternative to him ending up in a cloud of netherese smoke. nonetheless, he knows what he is doing. evident in him actually succeeding in ascending in one of his endings.

gale: this is no passing whim, trust me. if i can obtain that crown, it will affect us all. it is not a decision i'll take lightly. gale: it's our future that i'm thinking of - we can't rely on anyone else to do it for us. gale: for now - we've learned all we can.

neither are his relationships that we do know of (namely elminster, tara, and morena) frequently changing. they are marked by years of mutual respect, care, and consistency. there is nothing unstable about them. while it's important to note that his relationship with tav is still in its honeymoon stages during the main game, there is no inclination of any push-and-pull dynamic between them whatsoever.

gale isn’t preoccupied with keeping up some sort of benevolent act in order to win (back) affection — he genuinely IS a good person and he proves this at every turn. moreover, to have a tressym become your familiar you must be of Good alignment.

(taken from tumblr user galedekarios's post.)

there is never a moment where his ideals or alignment suddenly change. in fact, i’d argue that he and wyll are most consistent in this regard when compared to the rest of the companions. gale makes his moral standpoint very clear from the beginning on and also explicitly states that he believes that in order to survive this entire ordeal it would be selfish of him if he wouldn’t be willing to compromise on his morals. this isn’t a sudden bout of ✨muahahaha wizard hubris✨ that he barely contained to hold in before, this is yet another act of selflessness — it is what he’s willing to do for the group and subsequently, the welfare of faerun.

player: i love unsavoury things. don't feel guilty on my account. gale: that's good to know. although i should say i do what i do out of a sense of utility and pragmatism, not a love of the unsavoury. gale: we're up against the greatest threat faerun has ever faced. i don't mind getting my hands dirty if it gives us a better chance of surviving. gale: whatever advantage i can gain for us. i will. and i refuse to feel guilty for it, no matter how much mystra's chidings might echo in my skull.

this is him, once again trying to be useful in whatever way he can. to give them an advantage, a slither of hope against seemingly impossible odds, so they might make it out of this in one piece. gale wouldn’t approve of those actions under normal circumstances, but their predicament is as far from any definition of “normal” as it can get.

gale is no fool, he realizes this is essentially about survival. he knows that he has no option left other than to tolerate, which is why he can be convinced to not immediately depart tav’s company even if they choose to commit atrocities. this is no character flaw of his or him displaying a previously dormant openness for cruelty, this is about recognizing the necessity.

player: you don't stand a chance alone. you're free to go. i dare you. gale: gods damn you - you're right. few things are more powerful than the will to live.

gale: i thought the orb to be the greatest of my sins, but i see now that there are darker depths to which i might yet sink. you may be content to sink into that abyss, but i assure you - i am not.

gale doesn’t lead a split existence. he has a very strong sense of identity. he knows what he wants, what he doesn’t want and he isn’t shy in expressing his boundaries either. which he has especially shown when it comes to his relationship with tav. i originally had intended to touch upon this in another post entirely but: i firmly believe his entire Gale of Waterdeep™ persona is more of a performance than him struggling to find a sense of identity and trying them on for size. it is an intentional decision to separate gale dekarios from the great wizard of waterdeep, to create distance and make sure his family name remains untarnished in case things should ever go sideways.

gale: i agree. and on the plus side, if i get myself into any truly cataclysmic straits during the remainder of our journey, my family name will go untarnished.

there is also a deep-rooted feeling of unworthiness and his firm belief that love and praise are conditional resources that he will only be granted through his talents alone, naturally. presenting himself as gale dekarios, the man, would mean highlighting his shortcomings and very human flaws, while distracting from the aspects of himself that are deemed praiseworthy, the ones that actually matter: his magical prowess.

i personally believe that part of the beauty of gale’s story is him realizing just how “little” it takes for him to be truly content. he gets his happy ending, with someone at his side who truly sees him, understands him and unabashedly commits to him. they worship and adore him in return — and it is well deserved. he isn’t reduced to be constantly and restlessly searching for some unattainable ideal to fill the gaping void within himself. he doesn’t secretly thirst for more power still or believes that in being with tav he is settling for something. instead, he is finally happy to just be. be and be accepted. teaching a class of unruly wizards and coming home to his spouse each day already fulfills him.

gale: that's how i feel with you - content. it's a rather unfamiliar feeling, i must say. not something gale of waterdeep ever craved.

even if he doesn’t pursue a romance with tav, he reaches a realization of “oh, it appears i am not irredeemably flawed and only able to reach true redemption through my own death. what i needed was actually with me all along.” throughout their journey and through his friend's support. i think that’s a very powerful and comforting message. he is very well capable of finding peace within himself.

devnotes: his default state is that he returned to waterdeep and became a professor of illusory magic at his former school, blackstaff academy. general vibe here is that this is a gale who's found peace with himself - he's a great teacher, one his students are mostly in awe of.

to repeat myself: sharing your headcanons is all in good fun, nor should you ever be discouraged from doing so. this is your personal tumblr experience, after all. but i personally think we should be mindful of unintentionally perpetuating negative stereotypes, such as narcissism being a general indicator or being deemed a classic depiction of bpd. i think we can all agree that the continuous longing for acceptance, connection, praise, and approval is something we all have in common deep down, regardless of whatever disorder we may have. [insert victoria justice meme here]

gale may be many things to many people, but he is no entitled narcissist.

[equestriagirl16]

NRC staff and their guardian status with MC~🌹

Notes: personal headcannons cause I absolutely cannot get enough of the NCR staff being caretakers/parental figures to MC. It’s just so wholesome to me, and a lot of this isn’t new info just my take on said renowned info.

Inspired by: @wolken-himmel @hunniepotts @adrianasunderworld @mashed-potato101

Dads: Crewel and Crowley

It’s basically canon at this point that our dear professor would assume the main dad role.

He would have a long history of taking care of “unruly pups”, and having you come around like a lost stray in need of proper training. Well he just couldn’t help himself now could he?

Spoils the hell out of you, yes he would take you out shopping for actual clothes and necessities, yes he would pay for everything, and no you absolutely do not owe him anything in return. Would probably get genuinely upset if you insisted.

Would be the dad to actually remind you, in a reassuring way, that you are in fact a child/young so you really shouldn’t carry the world on your shoulders at least not by yourself.

Fairly overprotective and strict, he only wants the absolute best for and from you. Which means unfortunately you won’t get a sliver of favoritism in class, and no amount of batting eyes or cute little excuses in baby talk is gonna change that. “Well you should’ve thought of that when I specifically gave you a weeks notice before the assignment went out pup.” And then he pats you on the head with his stick(affectionately).

No dating no boys no nothing, in fact no friends. Just spend your time with your loving father figure, he’s sure that’d be much better for your mental health. “I hate men.” “But you are one.” “My point still stands.” He’s spent more time around the student body than you have so he knows, LORD does he know, that plenty of them will leave you worse for wear despite how nice of a person they are. And if anyone, no matter who they might be, leaves his little pup sad and whimpering. He’ll make sure to remind them why he adorns the name of Crewel.

But at the end of the day he absolutely loves you, and you bring a special light in his life too. He may be a little young for it(in his words), but a set of adoption papers happen to make his way on his internet browser more times than he can ignore. Only if you’d like, perhaps he could bring the proposition up in conversation during your next shopping spree.

Oooooh Crowley, honestly this is mostly because he was the first adult to find you. We all know how this man operates, and yet he’ll insist that he takes care of you like his own child! *looks into the camera*

The man is on the complete other end of the dad spectrum. Ya know instead of responsible and nurturing he’s more so flighty and excitable. Literally just- “We gon need nutrition.” “So your kid likes apple juice?” “Oh no they love orange juice, but they’ve been bad this week.” “What grade is your kid in?” “Sixteenth grade.” “That’s not even a grade!-So they graduated college?” “No they…where is my kid??” He left you in the grocery store…again.

Don’t get him wrong though, he can step up to the challenge when need be, he’s still a whole principal. If anything he’ll at least make sure your academics are in line and your school life is decent, and thankfully he does play favorites!

However he definitely values independence, and just tends to think you can handle things on your own and believes a ton in your potential. Much to both your favor and detriment, sure there’s nothing you can’t handle but that doesn’t mean you should handle it all at once!

Does get serious when the situation calls for it. Like if you’re legitimately broken up about anything, or just in a bad place the secret dad switch in the far reaches of his brain finally switch into hyper gear. He can catch the slightest wind of it, and he’ll be the first one there to comfort you which he’s surprisingly good at. Both in physical comfort and advice, it gets you every single time.

He would never let you know this, nor could you really guess, but he would do anything for you. You mixed up his life in a very unexpected and interesting way, and even if he’s not good at showing it he does love you very much. Man would kill for you. Die for you though? Hmm, give him a sec to think.

Uncles: Vargas and Sam

To me he comes off as someone who definitely cares about you but doesn’t show it on as intimate of a level if that makes sense. He’s a gym bro, he shows his affection more in words of motivation and making you run just a few more laps. Cmon, he believes in you!

Obviously he values your physical health, but also because he knows that can translate into mental health. He may not be there for everything but he does what he can in the time he has with you.

Honestly he probably just figures that you already have a lot of people looking out for you, and he doesn’t want to overstep. So he’ll stay in his lane and make sure you’re working at maximum efficiency.

Of course that doesn’t mean he won’t be there for you when you need it. Is also ever so slightly protective, but aims to lift you back onto your feet more than anything. He knows your someone deserving of respect so he’s gonna remind you of that every time he has the chance, and won’t stop until your confidence is through the roof. “Come on, you’re really gonna let them tear you down like that! Remember what I taught you, no one’s strong like Y/N!”

But if you need a hug then maybe, just maybe, he’ll sweep you up and jostle you around until you’re too dizzy to even remember you were sad. You’re a rarity in this world, and you’re just as capable as anyone else. As long as he’s around he’ll never let you forget that.

Also, head pats for days and 100% calls you kid.

I feel like I barely have to even explain this one. It’s Sam, he’s younger and more extravagant. Not rly dad material, he gives off more older relative/big brother vibes.

He’s got his own stuff going on plus a shop to run, he may not be around you 24/7 but would definitely encourage you to stop by and visit literally anytime. He absolutely loves your company and showing you all his little tips and tricks.

You can guarantee he’d sometimes let you’d off the hook when paying for supplies, for no particular reason at all of course. “I’m closing up shop for the night anyway, now run along little imp ‘fore the shadows get ya!”

Likes teasing you, just playful little pranks and jabs to keep you on your toes. Would never dream of doing anything remotely malicious, even does check-ins if your reaction isn’t the happiest.

Speaking of check-ins, I feel like he’d ask you about how things are going every single time you visit him. Since he’s on the younger side too he’d definitely be more in the know about how to deal with certain things, and give you more down to earth advice. The jump from free spirited shop keep to serious guardian is wild.

Also for any of my black/poc MCs out there, he has your back(especially if you were homesick). Another fully welcomed slice of culture, I have a personal headacannon that he’d be extremely helpful on hair days too. Not to say no one else is, but he would take pride in you sticking close to your roots(heh, get it). As well as picking out really cool styles for you. Maybe even have some spells to let you color it, the possibilities are endless.

A little protective but he doesn’t outright distrust anyone neither believes in shielding you. You gotta fight you’re own battles, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be there every step of the way. When you’re knocked down he’ll pick you right back up, now equipped with a few new tricks up your sleeve. And perhaps on some days many may notice that you have more than one shadow following behind you.

Loves you to death and beyond that, he’ll make sure everyday is full of laughs and you have what you need to stand out from the rest.

GRANDPA TREIN

This man has gray hairs, years of wisdom, and put multiple kids through college. He has earned this category.

I want to say since he already has a family of his own he wouldn’t completely take you in, but he’d definitely put you under his wing. Simply put he owns most the brain cells between all the staff, so he’d know not only how to but for your own sake that he should take care of you.

The amount of times he’s had to steer you away from the advice of a certain principal, and to be the guy to refute the extra baggage anybody put on you is ridiculous. “But Crowley wanted me to get the supplies from the town this weekend, and then I have to host a tutoring session with the guys, and run another errand-” “You’re not doing that.” “But-” “No buts, none of it. Now sit down and finish your tea, I fear you’ll collapse if you think for another second.” Firmly believes no one as young as you should be dealing with the sheer amount of bullsh!t you deal with. And trust that he’s seen a lot of it in his time working at that place.

He’s the epitome of responsible caretaker, will set your priorities straight and be very transparent with you. If your getting too distracted to focus on your academics, or putting yourself last after everything/everybody you have to deal with. He won’t hold back, you’re apart of the equation, the most important part.

He’s also very well versed in the emotional aspects of a young ones life too. Sure he’s not the most touchy feely type, but on like a psychological level he understands and gives arguably the best and most proactive advice.

This isn’t his first rodeo, honestly a lot of it is just second nature to him. He just has a lot of sympathy for you and your situation, and despite his demeanor he’s not one to leave a literal stranded child to fend for themselves. He’s a professor not a monster, and of course you remind him a lot of his prime parenting days. Which he’s secretly very fond of.

He won’t say it out loud, well at least not in front of other people. Perhaps during a nice quiet evening in his office he’ll tell you how genuinely proud he is of you and your progress. You’ll always have a means of support in him, but don’t misunderstand him he doesn’t play favorites.(yes he does)

[ao3komorii]

On the Hunt (Astarion/Reader)

Happy Halloween! I want to write something for Raphael eventually, but here's a shorter Astarion thing for now. Hope you enjoy the story :)

----

You had gotten very good at detecting when the light left his eyes.

It happened a lot less after Cazador had been felled, but often when Astarion had little else to focus on, his red eyes travelled back in time, back to his own world of pain and loss and hopelessness.

It didn’t help that with all that he had gained, he had lost the sun, left to see the light only from afar, his memories of its warmth nowhere near enough.

You had happily joined him in the night as you set out to cure him of his condition, but like anyone, Astarion still had bad days.

You had figured it was going to be a less good day when you had woken up in the middle of the day, your body sensing the absence of his next to yours. Drowsily opening your eyes, you easily spotted your silver-haired partner sitting at the edge of the bed, staring silently at a rectangle of light shining through a small slit between the curtains you had closed when you had first entered the room at the inn, as you always did.

You closed your eyes again, allowing Astarion his moment, knowing that you fussing over him every time would only make things worse. Instead, as you allowed yourself to fall back to sleep, you decided to do something to make tonight as exciting as you could to help give the vampire an escape from his losses.

When you woke next, Astarion was next to you in bed, his meditative pose telling you he was actually asleep. You stared at his peaceful resting face for a long moment before turning your focus to those still-closed curtains, the shade of the barely-visible sliver of light telling you that it was at least midday.

Setting about your pseudo-morning routine, you began to brainstorm a solid plan to distract Astarion from his ongoing plight.

He was likely starving for blood, you knew that much. Without a power-hungry cult looming constantly over your heads, there were much less fights to be had in cities that didn’t result in legal consequences, and you could only safely let him feed from you so often without risking your health. And without Withers around, you couldn’t risk your life quite as stupidly as you had before.

But it had been over a week since Astarion had last had your blood, and you had been considering finding a bandit camp or seeking out some wild animals just to get his mood up when an idea struck you.

It was perhaps a bit sooner than the two-week timeline you had both agreed on between larger blood donations, but you found yourself ensorcelled by the idea of putting on a little hunt for him, just with you as the prey this time. A little test of his instincts as it were, keeping your real reasoning close to your chest, not wanting him to think you were pitying him. And what was a little anemia if it was in the name of cheering up your beloved?

You were sitting at the small wooden desk in the room, itemizing your carefully-hoarded spell scrolls when Astarion came out of his trance, leaning down beside you before you realized he was even awake.

“You’re up early,” he remarked curiously, and you froze up in surprise, doing your best not to look like you had been caught in the act, casually reaching to hide your scroll of disguise self under a more conspicuous hypnotic pattern. “Now what could be so important that you decided to deprive me the pleasure of waking up next to my love?”

You shuffled your scrolls and maps into a messy pile, aware of how his sharp gaze followed the action with suspicion.

Turning from your papers to meet his eyes, you did your best to look innocuous. “I was thinking we could do something different today.”

“Oh?” Astarion’s face lit up with intrigue. “And here I thought I’d be in for yet another day of rifling through dusty old tomes written by dusty old men who haven’t even met a vampire, let alone possessed any useful information about one.”

You let out a huff of laughter, equally aware of the bad information streak you had been on for the last month, the most useful information coming from a thoroughly depraved romantic vampire novel that Astarion had found significantly too much enjoyment in reading out to you whenever he had gotten bored of reading whatever vampiric history tome he had discarded when its contents proved valueless.

“I was thinking–”

It was probably to your benefit that Astarion leaned in to kiss you, cutting off the sentence you hadn’t quite figured out how to phrase. The kiss was chaste, the smug vampire pulling back with a smirk, clearly enjoying having caught you off guard.

“You were saying, love?” he teased lowly, and you willed yourself not to fall for his distractions like you usually did.

“I was thinking we could go on a hunt today,” you said at last, Astarion raising an eyebrow in response.

“You know I always relish the chance for some meaningless violence, but why all of a sudden?” he asked, always way too perceptive for your own good. “What’s the hunt? It had better not be another cluster of ooze. It took me far too long to remove their slobber from my weapons the last time I had the misfortune of stabbing one.”

“No, no ooze,” you dismissed with a laugh. It wasn’t like you had wanted to do that job either, but it had gotten you the funds to pay for your last three inn stays. Summoning up your courage, you tried your best to not look as embarrassed as you felt. “I was thinking this time you could hunt… me.”

Astarion’s eyes glinted noticeably as he leaned in towards you, a hand resting on either armrest of your chair, his arms caging you in. “Am I to take this as a request of a more carnal nature? Because I am very willing to oblige.”

His voice was dripping with quiet ardor, the cheeky vampire using the tone he knew would lure you into bed with him every time, but not this time. You wanted something that would catch him off guard entirely, leaving no room in any part of his mind for his latent sadness to set in today. There would be plenty of time for sex later, once he had been fed.

“I was thinking more along bloodier lines,” you said, Astarion’s resulting frown at his seduction attempt failing more than a little cute. “I know we agreed to every two weeks, but I do have that vibrancy potion I’ve been saving.”

Astarion leaned back out of your space, looking quizzical, but not unhappy, so you took that as a sign to continue.

“Since this is a special occasion, I thought it might be fun to make you work for it,” you said with a conspiratorial smile. “Neither of us have been to this city before, so we’re on an even playing field. I was thinking if you can find me by sunrise, my blood is yours. As much as you want, since the effects of the vibrancy potion will last until then. If you can find me, that is.”

Astarion grinned wide, his pristine white fangs on full display. “Oh darling, I hadn’t taken you as someone who makes gambles they haven’t a hope of winning.”

You felt a flare of competition spark within you at his surety that he would win. Just because this was supposed to end with your blood on his teeth didn’t mean you were going to make this easy for him.

“If you’re so sure you’ll win, then maybe I’ll set off now and get a head start,” you shot back teasingly, reaching into your bag on the floor and downing the small vial of forest green vibrancy potion in one go before standing up, licking the last stray drop from the corner of your mouth to make sure the potion had maximum effectiveness.

Astarion’s eyes closed as he took a long inhale, which told you that the potion was indeed working as intended. When his eyes opened again, his pupils were blown wide, looking every bit the vampire ready for a hunt.

“Your blood smells even sweeter than the first time,” he spoke in a strained voice, posture so rigid he looked like he might snap if you moved an inch closer to him. “If I wasn’t such an honorable vampire, I’d already have you.”

Keeping any comments regarding his honor to yourself, you lifted your bag, sweeping the papers on the desk into it before slinging it over your shoulder, heading all the way to the door before turning your head back to face the shirtless, sleepy-haired vampire with a teasing smile.

“Good luck, Astarion,” you told him. Knowing how desperate for blood he had been the first time, he had to struggling even harder than he looked to be holding himself back right now.

“I don’t need luck,” he replied smoothly, sitting back down on the bed, hands fisting tightly onto the sheets. “There is nowhere you could hide where I can’t find you, my love.”

His sultry tone made you flush, and you quickly fled the room, knowing you had to go now before your willpower gave out.

Emerging onto bustling early evening streets, you knew that you had until the sun fell to find a place to hide. Making your way down the main street, you made sure to stop and chat up a perfume salesman, accepting a heavy dose of one of their floral samples in the hope that it would disguise the smell of your blood to the hungry vampire that would be on your trail within the hour. Your scent taken care of, now there was just the manner of your appearance.

Stopping by a busy clothing store, you stood before a long mirror in a deserted corner of the store, pulling out your disguise self scroll and getting to work.

You left the store a purple-skinned tiefling with long ruby-red hair, clad in a skimpy black dress with a long slit up the thigh, gold jewelry accenting your neck and illusory horns. If Astarion was looking for a disguise, you doubted he would think you would take on such a gaudy one, the stares of people as you passed telling you that you definitely looked the part of a lady of the night.

The sun had begun to fall as you walked the streets, intending on getting a decent distance away from the inn before finding somewhere to hole up when the dark set in. There was no doubt that Astarion would have the advantage in the dark, so you had to be as well-hidden as possible by then.

It felt too much like cheating to set up in a noisy tavern, though it wasn’t exactly like you had set any concrete rules before setting out, but still, you dismissed the fleeting idea. You wanted to make this hard for Astarion, not impossible. You didn’t often have enough gold for vibrancy potions anymore, so you wanted to make this one count, but Astarion would have to earn it first.

You had your momentary doubts that he would even agree to your proposal, given he had his moods sometimes, but his reaction had surpassed even your most hopeful expectations. You knew he wouldn’t be holding back, and you would hate yourself if you didn’t at least put up a fight.

You stopped to feign interest in a group of dragonborn musicians playing in a park as you considered your options further. You could cast a hypnotic pattern and pretend to be captivated by it as well? But you couldn’t sustain that one for long, and there was no telling when Astarion would pass by here. You could blur yourself, but that was likely to end up attracting his attention rather than evading it.

Lost in your thoughts, you took altogether too long to realize the passing of time, coming to the sudden realization that the sun was now just the tiniest sliver in the horizon. Astarion was definitely out by now, who knows for how long while you were zoning out.

You followed the crowd’s lead, clapping for the performers as you took subtle glances around you, not seeing any silver hair in the area. Still, you had wasted too much time here. You needed to move.

With most people in the park distracted by the performance, you were easily able to misty step your way across the park, exiting into what looked to be a district of… lesser repute. Here, there were women and men dressed in less than you were, hanging outside gaudy establishments and trying to draw customers in. You were just passing by a gnome and a scantily-clad human making out so loudly that you briefly wondered if either of them had ever kissed anyone now before when you ran into an issue.

“Haven’t seen yer sweet ass ‘round here before,” a male voice slurred, a large half-orc stepping into your view, or rather completely blocking it with his bulk.

“Excuse me,” you spoke flatly, immediately on guard. You moved to walk around him, but this only seemed to egg him on, as he moved in turn to step to the side and continue blocking your way.

“Ain’t no tieflings at tha bars, not anymore,” he spoke angrily, waving his arms wildly around as he talked, large axe glinting from its place on his back. “It ain’t the same when those other broads ain’t got no horns to grab while I plow ‘em!”

You could easily discern the reason why tiefling women seemed to become scarce around him, regretting that your choice of disguise had now led to this unexpected issue. You wouldn’t want to talk to this creep on a normal day, but you really didn’t have time now. You weren’t sure if your ego would survive being caught by Astarion less than an hour after the hunt had begun.

While you were confident that your disguise was flawless, the half-orc was being so loud that you would catch anyone’s attention right now. Looking around, you noticed the eyes of many of the seedy crowd were on you, but as expected, nobody was stepping in to help you, clearly wary of attracting the wrath of the drunk brute.

Sighing internally, you resolved to yourself to give this guy one more chance to leave you alone before you made him. What a mess you had managed to find yourself in.

“I’m not interested,” you said, not intimidated in the slightest by the half-orc who was at least a head taller than you. “I’m asking you nicely to walk away.”

The half-orc scoffed loudly, making a show of looking around, the onlookers all averting their gazes, not wanting to be involved, their eyes shifting back to you when the brute finished his overdramatic display before turning back to you with a cocked brow.

“Well I don’t see no man here ta claim ya,” he boasted loudly. “And Barorth don’t recognize no other claims on the womens he wants anyway!”

He would probably have been luckier if Astarion was here, the snarky vampire possibly content to mock the half-orc without him realizing rather than what you were going to do to him if he didn’t leave you alone.

“Not interested,” you repeated flatly, deathly intent plain in your voice, at least plain to anyone but this moron, who instead reached out to take one of your arms in his grasp.

“‘Nuff talkin’,” he grunted, hand clamping down on your arm. “Those tits are just–”

The second he touched you, you blinked, immediately activating eyebite, your eyes turning into teeth-ringed pools of black.

“Go,” you snarled at the half-orc, his grip falling from your arm instantly, an all-too-loud guttural groan leaving his mouth before he turned and ran. You didn’t dismiss eyebite until he was out of sight, glaring after him the entire way.

Taking a breath to calm yourself down, you blinked and your regular eyes returned. How much time had you wasted on that moron? He was lucky all you did was traumatize him, the brute likely to have suffered a much worse fate if it was Lae’zel he was hitting on. Hopefully he would leave any real tieflings alone after your little display.

Frustrated, you moved to the less busy side of the street, ignoring the people there who now stared at you in shock. You were far enough from Baldur’s Gate that very few people would recognize you even if you had your real appearance, but there was definitely going to be gossip spreading now about the tiefling escort that sent a half-orc running away with just a look.

And then you were striding past an alleyway, intent on figuring out your next move, when a hand darted out, clasping firmly around your wrist and pulling you into the alleyway, finding yourself quickly pinned to the stone wall by your assailant’s body.

Amused red eyes stared down at you, Astarion running one hand down your side to rest on your hip. “One hour and you’re already finding your way into trouble without me. Darling, I’m hurt.”

You knew he had you, despite your feigned appearance, but your pride wouldn’t allow you to give in so easily.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you sniffed with very false confidence. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to–”

“Spare me,” he dismissed. “Did you really think you could hide from me in plain sight when I know your scent, your taste so… intimately?”

You wanted to protest further, but any words you were going to say turned into a pleased sigh as Astarion leaned in to kiss at your neck.

“You do make a rather fetching tiefling, my love, but I do think I prefer the you that I wake up next to every morning,” he spoke against your neck.

You smiled despite yourself, finally giving in and allowing the disguise to drop, Astarion holding you to him tighter in response, but his fangs still hadn’t made their way into your neck. The smell of your blood had to have been driving him crazy, he had said as much earlier, so then why hadn’t he claimed his reward yet?

“You win,” you conceded, unable to stay mad with your beloved so close to you, even in the dingy alleyway whose prior inhabitants had likely been either a murder or a messy hookup. “My blood is yours.”

At your words, Astarion pulled back from your neck entirely, further confusing you. Noticing your questioning look, he gestured out to the street, where some onlookers were barely visible, but their attention at least seemed to be on their own business now.

“I won’t be playing the part of the heinous vampire attacking the fair maiden and risking some do-gooder rushing to your rescue with a stake meant for my heart,” he explained disdainfully. “No, I think my prize would be better savored in a more private location.”

You could still see just how bad his hunger was getting to him, so it was obvious that you weren’t making it back to the inn. Looking out over his shoulder, you spotted a private enough looking rooftop several stories above some seedy-looking bar, placing your hand on Astarion’s arm as you summoned a dimension door.

“Good enough?” you asked, drawing Astarion’s gaze to the matching door waiting on the roof.

“Not quite the caliber of the Blushing Mermaid, but I can hardly be choosey when it means I get more of your delectable blood,” he answered.

That was as much of a yes as you figured you were getting out of him, and so you activated the door and found yourselves instantly transported to the actually-not-too-bad-looking rooftop.

It was barren, but clean. Seemed like nobody really came up here, as all that was on the roof were a couple ratty-looking chairs and a large rug that looked like it would be worth some money if it weren’t for a large stain on one corner that was either blood or red wine.

Stepping away before Astarion could get too carried away, you rummaged quickly through your bag, pulling out one of the many arcane lock scrolls you knew to keep on hand for situations like this, sealing the door so you wouldn’t be interrupted. Job done, you went to turn back around, not wanting to keep the vampire waiting.

“Well, I think we’re—”

Astarion was way closer than you expected, having silently closed the gap between you while your back was turned.

Shaking off your momentary surprise, you smiled at him, turning your head and pulling your hair back so your neck was left bared for him to drink from. So you were caught off guard when he instead backed you up against the door, caging you in with his body and catching your mouth with his own.

While you were confused, you weren’t opposed, your eyes sliding closed and arms coming up to rest against his chest, the gentle buzzing of the magical lock against your back all but forgotten at the things Astarion’s tongue was doing to your own.

You were having a hard time telling if he was actually this turned on, or if he had just turned his switch on, as much as you had tried to break him of the habit of feeling like he had to perform sexually if he wasn’t feeling it. Recognizing you should probably make that discernment now, you pulled back from the kiss, Astarion’s lips shifting to kiss at your neck.

“It’s okay if this is just for blood,” you spoke, trying to keep your voice steady despite Astarion suckling on a particularly sensitive spot. “You don’t owe me anything for my blood if you don’t want to.”

Astarion pulled back from your neck at last, no bites taken, instead reaching a hand down to take your leg in his grasp, pulling it around one hip and using the opportunity to grind his clearly hard cock into you, the resulting feeling fluttering your lashes as you tried desperately to focus on the seriousness you were trying to inject into the moment.

Astarion saw your serious expression and only smiled, a small little smile so unlike the openly flirtatious ones he used to send your way back when you had first explored each other’s bodies.

“Trust me darling, you mean far too much to me to ever treat you like you’re a favor to be traded in,” he spoke quietly, hips still rolling into yours as he spoke. “You’ve given me too much to ever be repaid. But no need to fret, my reasons for wanting your body now are just my own selfish lust.”

He didn’t need any words from you to know he had you, one broken moan at his hips rutting perfectly against yours enough of a response for him to return to your mouth, one hand sliding under your dress to press firmly on your clit as you kissed fervently, doing your best to keep up with his tongue as you felt warm enough for the both of you even on the chilly rooftop.

The greedy vampire could only go so long without claiming his reward, mouth moving to your neck the second he felt you getting close, sinking his teeth into you at last as he barraged your clit with attention, the twin sensations of blood loss and orgasm feeding off each other in beautiful harmony, Astarion prolonging your peak with his talented fingers as he drank from your neck until you laid boneless against him, panting above his head.

“I love you,” you breathed, Astarion breaking from your neck to return the sentiment with a bloodstained smile.

And then it was your turn, pulling him to your mouth and grinding up into him, the vampire’s own panting breaths loud against your mouth. Astarion moved his hips back into yours, his pace nothing like the practiced, even rhythm he’d had back when he was playing the part of what he had thought you would like. His groans now were entirely his body’s reaction to yours, and the thought burned deeply in your core.

Neither one of you content to keep things going with clothes still on, your hands moved to the clasp holding your flimsy dress together, while Astarion smoothly discarded his own pants, his hands then coming back to maneuver you onto your back on the non-stained section of the rooftop rug, your dress splayed out under you helping to guard against the slightly rough texture of the rug.

“This is a sight I will never tire of,” Astarion groaned, ripping his shirt up over his head, his underwear following and leaving him entirely bare to your wanting gaze.

He looked every bit the vampiric seductor in that horrible novel he liked to bother you with, red eyes and bloody mouth gleaming in the sparse light the rising moon provided.

You watched his expression spark with debauched pleasure as it was plainly obvious how wet you were as he practically peeled your underwear from you, one hand returning to work at your clit, his own cock looking so hard that it must hurt.

“Astarion, please,” you begged, reaching out for him, your lover effortlessly evading your grasp as he worked you closer and closer to orgasm.

“Not yet, my love,” he chided lowly, knowing you could do little to resist his efforts right now. “I rather enjoy getting you so worked up. I could spend hours listening to your pretty cries as I bring you over the edge again and again, but I suppose that potion is only good until sunup, and I am so hungry.”

“Then come here,” you prompted, already feeling clearheaded from the vibrancy potion rejuvenating your blood supply so quickly.

“How could I refuse?” he replied happily, slotting himself between your legs.

Wrapping your legs around his back, you pulled him down, the vampire smoothly lining his cock perfectly to hit deep inside you as you pulled his mouth to your neck.

“You are too perfect,” Astarion murmured against your neck before biting down.

You decided it was better for you to start strong while you still had the blood supply to energize you, using your legs around his hips to start a slow but deep rhythm. Astarion needed very little coaxing to keep up, one hand coming up to angle one of your legs higher, the resulting shift making you cry out as he started to hit against a spot inside you that only he had ever been able to find.

You had always prided yourself on being the talker of your little group, able to talk your way in or out of trouble when needed. But here, under the snarky vampire you had come to cherish more than anything, you were wordless, barely able to manage more than his name as Astarion moved his focus from your neck to thoroughly ruin you, blood-red smirk telling you he knew exactly what he was doing with every grind of his hips.

It took almost embarrassingly no time for you to finish again, Astarion’s keen senses picking up on it immediately without you having to say a word.

“I do so like to see you like this, darling,” he said, slowly his pace down as you came down from it. “So thoroughly ravaged that you couldn’t recite a spell if you tried.”

You knew that he wasn’t unaffected, the slow roll of his hips telling you that much, but you found yourself determined to exhaust him just as badly, a tall order for someone of his stamina, but you were going to try your best.

With as much grace as you could manage with legs that felt like jelly, you withdrew from under him, pushing him back so he was sitting back, staring at you with loving eyes more black than red as you climbed onto his lap, settling back down on his cock, intent on riding him until he lost himself.

Astarion’s hands quickly found the back fastenings of your bra, unhooking it with a satisfied growl and tossing the garment aside, allowing him access to lean down and lave kisses and bites across your chest as you continued to ride him hard.

You were slamming your hips into his now, running a hand through his hair, his increasingly loud groans of your name telling you that he was finally getting close. With a shuddered breath, his hands went down to your hips, holding you still against him as he came, teeth sinking into your neck once again in tandem.

You slowly stroked his hair, in no rush to free yourself from his embrace, even as you could feel stray droplets of blood running down your neck and onto your chest.

With a pleased sigh, Astarion’s hands went from your hips to around your back, pulling back from your neck to see you smiling at him, the sight sending him leaning forward to kiss you, his peaceful expression one you could look at forever and never get tired of.

“Here I was thinking all I had to thank that grotesque nautiloid for was my freedom,” he mused between kisses. “If it hadn’t found you too, I’d probably be dead, hunted by that gur and delivered to my death. Never thought I’d be so grateful to a damn illithid for plucking me off the street.”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “This makes even the whole parasite insertion thing worth it, if I get to be here like this with you.”

“How sweet,” he huffed in response. “I however could have done without Gale’s lectures on morality. And Lae’zel’s snoring.”

“And the Withers lecture about how you were distracting me from my quest,” you added with a laugh, recalling the at-the-time awkward talk with the skeletal man the morning after you and Astarion had first slept together.

“I don’t know about that, my dear,” Astarion replied slyly. “You did seem a touch distracted after that first night. I recall you stepping on several fire mines that Shadowheart had warned us of not five minutes before. Hard to blame you though, I mean really, just look at me.”

“Having fun?” you sulked, pulling back from him to cross your arms across your chest, trying to appear annoyed but fully aware your point was not well made considering he was still inside of you.

Astarion didn’t let you get far, arms pulling you back in. “Not so fast, my love. As I recall, my reward was to last until sunrise, and I intend to reap it in full.”

[360iris]

Hello my darling Loeeeee

May I request a Drabble/fic/anything of any of the moon boys + one bed trope and cuteness ensues 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 SFW or NSFW, up to you and whatever you feel 💞💞💞

Xoxo

Précis | marc spector x reader

1.2k word count. Thank you for requesting Mona-aaa!! This was really fun to write, and I definitely made myself laugh a little harder than I maybe should’ve. This m/c is so awkward, and a bit of a weird, like me.

A/N: I know it seems like I’ve been gone on a two to three month writing hiatus, but I promise you guys I’ve been occupied with getting a beast of a Steven Grant one-shot done. The only hint I’m giving is that it was so, so, so close to making it to 20k— In the meantime, please forgive me with this little nugget.

I feel unbelievably rusty so this is also the perfect time to announce that my inbox requests are open and anon is an option again~~~

Marc pushes into the motel room, face stern and turning graver by the second as he takes in the one queen-sized bed room with no couch and one, singular sitting chair.

“That asshole.” He grumbles, attempting to pull back the recliner only to discover it went back a maximum of five inches. “I asked for two beds, you heard me ask for two.”

You sway in place by the entrance, body weak and bruised from the day you’d spent running around Cairo. Currently too distracted by your heavy eyelids and the pain in your aching muscles to care about such a small inconvenience.

“With what little Arabic I understand, I definitely heard you say ‘two’. That’s about it though.” You reply mid stretch, twisting your upper body in hopes of relieving some knot or unseen string of pain.

He releases the back of the chair, done with attempting to make it go further than it was capable of. “I’m going to talk to him.”

“Whatever you do, don’t get us kicked out. I will unleash an unfathomable world of fury, the likes of which you have never seen if I have to walk anymore today.”

“You’re threatening me?” He asks, turning from the door, arching a thick brow.

“Threats are outdated, that was a promise. A declaration of war if you cross me and my joints.” You clarify sleepily, not much of an intimidating threat to anyone, let alone him as you unlaced your shoes. Perched on the edge of the recliner.

“Uh-huh.” He snorts with the smallest sliver of humor. “I’ll talk to him, even though I should shove my foot up his—“

“Language.” You chide, arching a brow at him. “Remember, diplomatic mindset. Or else it’ll be me you’ll have to worry about.”

“Shut up.” He says with a roll of his eyes, the door clicking behind him just as you go to reply—

“Uh, rude!”

—

In his absence and finally free of your shoes, you close the distance between you and the bed. Face planting into the dark tones of the intricately designed duvet. Your eyes shutting contently before you even make contact with the plush mattress.

For as much of an inconvenience as it was, at least it turned out to be comfortable.

Marc returns three and half hours later, stirring you awake as he enters the room with a see-through plastic bag filled with stacked styrofoam containers.

Rubbing your eyes, you move just enough to look at the clock on the wall before turning your attention back to him, cheek pressing back into the duvet.

“Did you check that for bed bugs?” He asks evenly, pointing at the mattress.

“No.” You answer with a wide yawn. “But nothing’s bit me so far, I’ll count that as a win.”

“Manager was a no-go, got takeout instead. Move over.” Marc nudges your leg, making you take up less of the bed you’d been sprawled out against for the last few hours— you scoot over without fuss.

“I don’t know why you cared so much, we’ve had to share much smaller.” Your words come out mumbled, burying your face into your folded arms as he lays down beside you.

“I thought you never wanted to talk about that.” He asks quietly, resting on his back, head tilting to look at you.

“I never said that.”

“You never said anything about it actually.” He retorts. “We just… never talked about it.”

“Talked about our feelings? When have we ever?” You snort. Getting anything out of Marc regarding any personal matter was akin to pulling teeth. You would’ve guessed it physically pained him to acknowledge he was even capable of emotion.

“About us having sex.” His eyes are trained on your face, not diverting an inch as he speaks the words. Your jaw slackens, eyes flitting to literally anything else in the room but him. “See. You’re doing it.”

“Doing what?”

“Exactly what I thought you would. You actually cringed just now.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

“Look, I say that I didn’t. But it’s got less to do with you, and more to do with… I don’t know. It’s just weird, okay?”

“We’ve had sex. I’ve literally been inside of you,” —your face scrunches for a split second. “and you’re saying you’re weirded out by the word? You just did it again.”

“Don’t judge me! And I didn’t do anything, you just didn’t have to say it like that!” Your brows knit defensively, lips fixing into a pout as you begin to move away from him. “You can’t do feelings, I get grossed out by a word. I think one is inherently harder to deal with than the other.

He stops you from getting far, extending an arm around your waist. “Well now it sounds like you’re the one judging me.” He muses, a smirk working its way onto his face despite himself.

Eyes narrowing, you force your face to cooperate. “Don’t make me smile, Marc Spector. I’m mad at you.”

“For what?” He asks, leaning in closer.

“For bothering me while I’m tired! Some of us common folk still experience fatigue.” You tilt your head away as he leans in to kiss you, stopping him by placing your fingers over his mouth, your arms squished against his chest from how close he’s holding you to him.

“You wouldn’t have to do anything.” He speaks his offer against your fingers before grabbing your hand, tenderly kissing the tips in a way that makes you faintly whine. “Could take care of you like this.”

When you don’t reply, he takes it as leave to continue, extending a hand to rub the backs of your thighs. “You were so wet for me last time, baby. Bet you’re soaked for me today too.” Your thighs attempt to clench but he stops you, pulling your legs open just enough so that you have no way to relieve the tension gradually building from his words alone.

“You gonna let me feel you?” He asks, as though he didn’t already have you fitted against him. His left arm wrapped around your shoulders, effectively tucking you into his side while his right hand was wedged between your legs, propping you open.

“Hurry up.” You urge impatiently, resting your head against his chest.

With your hands fitted under your chin, you look down to where he wordlessly pops open your shorts. The older man deftly pulls down the zipper before slipping his large hand down the front of your undies.

Your lips part, releasing a quiet gasp as the rough pads of his fingers massage your clit, the firm drag of his touch causing you to ease against him.

“That’s it, huh, sweet girl?” He mumbles into the top of your head as he finds a steady pace. The rare sentiment making you keen. “Right there? That’s where you like it, baby?”

“Mhm- Marc.”

Lifting his left hand from your shoulder he coaxes you to look at him, thumb brushing against your cheek. “Want to look at you.” Is all he mumbles as his fingers trail down to your entrance, soaking up the way your lips part, brows knit and eyes begin to glaze over as he slips two digits inside of you.

“You become so nice when I have you like this. Love being full of me, don’t you? How’s it make you feel?”

“Good, hah- fuck.”

“Yeah?” He asks, curling his fingers in just the right way that you’re moaning audibly, body momentarily thrumming from how he works your walls until they’re soft and malleable. Finding your g spot and focusing on it exclusively. “Tell me more.”

[sgiandubh]

Keepers of the Quaich

This time, we're going to look at things a bit differently and this could very well be my most speculative post ever. So be it: it is a risk I am taking and warning you about from the get go.

The only thing Mordor understood about the next October 4 event organized by the US Chapter of The Keepers of the Quaich is something that probably gave them collective relief: S is not going to be with C on her birthday. Not together. Not on the same continent. Shut up, shippers, you are stupid.

As usually, Mordor takes things at a very primitive face value, without bothering for context. But they always focused on the lewd side of the story, not on its deep ramifications, of which there are many. Anything that denies S's halfwit manwhore image upsets them greatly.

The Scottish society of The Keepers of the Quaich is not one of those old, steeped in tradition clubs, but it is damn selective. It only dates back to 1988, which is almost five minutes ago, for Europe (and especially the UK) and is deeply rooted in Highlands' lore, celebrating excellence in whisky trade and promotion worldwide. General facts about it have already been discussed elsewhere, but with a bias and little to no context. Also, really LOL at Mordor's idiocy to think that was a fan promotion event and go ballistic for the members-only and by invitation access to it.

Membership is by co-opting and with a five-year proven performance history only (ten years, if you step up to Master level). You need not one, but two recommendations, which makes it harder to join than a Masonic lodge or the Rotary Club (and I know what I am saying, heh). That S could actively seek to be inducted, rather sooner than later, is pretty much clear, as he could use the network it readily provides, along with the prestige:

(Sourced at: https://www.diffordsguide.com/encyclopedia/341/people/keepers-of-the-quaich)

I first had a look at the list of its International Chapters and it is interesting to notice Muslim countries as Turkey or the Emirates each having their own chapter, which clearly tells me it's all about luxury and more specifically, luxury hospitality business, in that case. If inducted after the customary five years' wait, S could also make good use of the German chapter's (a market that proved to be very problematic for him) network, along with the Nordics and Netherlands, if he would think about cleverly expanding his trade in the EU. Last but not least, I would keep an eye on Brazil and India (along with the more predictable South Africa and Australia), because he already has a solid fanbase in the first one and well, Asia is always interesting, when it comes to alcohol business.

I did not really bother with the list of the Patrons, which spells a good and prestigious sliver of Debrett's Peerage's Scottish section. But I also looked at the list of the Management Committee, who does all the hands-on dealings and is directly responsible for the induction ceremony of new members. Aside from representatives of Diageo and Pernod Ricard (giants of the alcohol business world), a familiar name popped right at the bottom of the page:

Annabel Meikle, Director of The Keepers of the Quaich and as such, directly involved in the management of its activities (and probably also in all the underground shenanigans leading to the induction of new members, too). A great contact to have in your rolodex, judging by her public CV on LinkedIn:

Glenmorangie (also a member of the Keepers) - keep that reference under your sleeve, we are going to need it soon :).

Could she be related to...

I am leaving this without an answer, because I don't know and I will always refuse to go data mining for anything, but that sure as hell is not a common surname, as Smith or Martin!

At any rate, Mrs. Meikle is also (along with the Duke of Argyll, the current Keepers Grand Master) a member of The Scottish Committee of something very, very prestigious: The Worshipful Company of Distillers (https://www.distillers.org.uk/), based in London and founded in 1638, by Royal Charter (for “Body Politique and corporate” to govern the “Trade Arte and Mystery of Distillers of London” - how I love history, people!) granted by Charles I, a Stuart (of course). I am speculating and having visions of Livery status and Freedom of the City, followed by Knighthood for S (no bong needed, this particular narrative writes itself and believe it or not, it's not entirely without logic). And it is my strict constitutional right to be a poetic coo about it - that guy is smarter than we thought and I would curate that contact to death if I were him (but I am not, I am just a benevolent and intrigued observer, as you all know). Back to Earth from these optimistic conjectures, I will keep a tab on it, as I dutifully took note that one of their current interests is tequila:

Onwards to the US. We can have a fair idea of October 4th event just by looking at one of their few press releases on the occasion of the Chapter's launch gala, on September 25 2019, in New York (https://www.distilledspirits.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/KOTQUSA-Release-10.04.19.pdf - with quotes selected by me):

Moët Hennessy. Another reference to keep under our sleeve, for it will be soon very relevant. So yes, what has been speculated by Miss Marple is partially true: more business than aristocratic. But this is only if we do not consider as American aristocratic the venue of the next event. The Metropolitan Club is a very East Coast, WASP old money and (well, technically yes) Republican (but not MAGA Republican and this, to me, is very important for some reason) organization:

That was the state of play on Friday, folks, and I was already excited to share my optimistic findings with you. And then, C went to Paris and more dots started to speculatively connect. Bare with me for this long passegiata, I think it's worth it.

It was particularly important that C would be seen in a very friendly-casual pose with Delphine Arnault, out of all the other people attending that event. Not because Arnault is currently the big boss of Dior and Loewe (as I already explained here: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/729801825900953600/city-of-lights?source=share). And not only because C suddenly seems very interested to renew and expand her fashion days' old network. But also, because, as I already said, Delphine Arnault is also the daughter of her father and in France, business and family are always closely entwined. Always.

The French luxury market is roughly split between two behemoth players: Bernard Arnault (LVMH Moët Hennessy • Louis Vuitton S.A) and Antoine Pinault (Kering, ex- Pinault-Printemps- Redoute). These people and their businesses are number 1 and 2, respectively, on the global market. And out of these two, the only one very interested in the alcohol business is Arnault (Pinault does not deal in this sector).

So I took a look at his very diverse alcohol and spirits brand portfolio (25 references - https://www.lvmh.com/houses/wines-spirits/): rhum, brandy, champagne, tequila, wines (Argentina and even China). Two Scottish whisky brands: first Ardberg (the graceful peat from Islay). And - oh, hello, Mrs. Meikle - Glenmorangie, acquired by Arnault in 2004, after a bitter battle with Pernod Ricard (https://www.nytimes.com/2004/10/21/business/world-business-briefing-europe-france-scotch-maker-acquired.html):

Back at Mrs. Meikle's CV - hers was a pivotal role in the post-acquisition reshuffle, as part of LVMH:

Coincidence? I think not.

And then also a bourbon reference. Woodinville (based in the state of Washington, USA) with a pitch that made me grin again like the Cheshire Cat:

Sounds familiar? Rings a bell? See a pattern? You should: no, it's not S in disguise, but it could be SS in a couple of years, if S decided to sell it for a hefty profit.

But I was also interested in what is missing from this catalogue.

NO GIN.

Who knows? Maybe these French people could be enticed? In that case (and remember: I am SPECULATING), it would have to be a brand with a proven track record. You see, Arnault is famous for always buying only brands with a proven history and proven recognition (Tasting Alliance, anyone? LOL). Up until now and as is, FMN is just a pet project and a virtual endeavor. Nothing more and we shall see. But that little wild Scottish gin which could win hearts and already an award in Frisco is something completely different.

Now, then. You connect the dots. You draw your own conclusions. I see something very intriguing here and, as I already told you, the business underground situation is completely different from the bland façade.

You see, this is not about papers or checking a pulse or awkwardly grabbing a fist on some stairs. This is show me the money time. This is all about finding unexpected connections, at a very high level and on a very narrow niche.

So you think S and C can't stand each other anymore?

Humbug. They have each other's back from Day 1. And more. Ship on, ladies. Whatever clownery these days might bring, I know what I know. And by now, you should start asking yourselves the real questions, not if Waldo is with Carmen Sandiego (we KNOW), nor if they were online at the same time or not. I mean, that's cute: but to be honest, I think we're past that... uh... waypoint?

Next on my list is that Lallybroch trademark thing. This is the most complex one and I will take my time. I may speculate, but never without a logical base. And I always take these things very seriously.

Keepers of the Quaich, indeed. :)

[differenteagletragedy]

New AU lol, MC is a laaaady

Baxter stood in his bedroom, smoothing out his jacket as he looked at himself in the mirror. He was feeling ... well, he was having a hard time understanding how he was feeling. There was a little bit of apathy, a little bit of dread. Some disappointment, some anger, but buried underneath all of that was just the tiniest little sliver of hope.

He was 18 now, and with adulthood came new responsibilities, his parents often told him. He'd be expected to take over the family business, of course. But more immediately, he'd be expected to marry. Not out of love, nothing as maudlin as that, but to someone his parents chose, someone who could help the family image, and most importantly, open up new avenues for his father's ventures.

His life was being decided for him, but that was nothing new.

As he straightened his tie for the umpteenth time, there was a knock on the door -- one of the servants peeked her head in and announced that his parents were ready for him.

"Thank you," he said softly, shooting a smile at the servant, who smiled back. He'd always made a point to be kind to the people his mother and father had tried to teach him were beneath him, both because he didn't think so and because he desperately wanted to be nothing at all like them.

Baxter made his way through the halls of his childhood home, in no real rush to get down to the dining room. That's where his parents were, dressed in their finest and fully prepared to wine and dine another couple that was almost as rich as they were. And that's where you would be.

"She's a fine girl," his mother had told him before she proceeded to list off your father's investments instead of any of your qualities. He had heard you were beautiful, so at least that was something.

But when he reached his destination and finally saw you for the first time ... well, "beautiful" was such a weak word to describe what he saw in you. You were ethereal.

He took his normal seat at the table -- tonight, it was the one right next to you. At that distance, he could tell that you smelled nice too, and when you smiled at him and shook his hand, he had the fleeting thought that maybe, even if just by accident, his parents had managed to do something nice for him by bringing you into his world.

Despite his initial attraction to you, the dinner was more than a little awkward. You hadn't wanted to talk much, it seemed, and attempts by the older adults to get a conversation started had all failed.

It wasn't until dessert was being served that you leaned over and asked him, just above a whisper, "Can I tell you a secret?"

"You can," he said, unable to hold back a smirk.

"I very much don't want to be here."

You said it so matter-of-factly that he couldn't help but bark out a laugh -- one that he quickly turned to a cough when his mother looked his way. After they went back to their own conversation, he leaned over slightly and said, "Can I tell you a secret of my own?"

"You can."'

"I very much don't want to be here either."

You smiled then -- the first genuine smile of the night. He wanted more.

Baxter made a show of standing up from the table then, and with a deep bow that had you stifling a giggle, he said, "Would you care to accompany me on a walk?"

He held a hand out to you, and when you took it, you curtsied to him -- a full-on actual curtsy. That may have been when he fell in love.

"I would like that quite a lot, sir, thank you," you told him, raising your skirt with your free hand and dipping down again.

His father complimented yours on your manners, but the twinkle in your eye told Baxter that you were being remarkably insincere. If he'd fallen in love before, he was head over heels now.

That night, as you walked through the gardens of his family's estate, you talked to him -- really and truly talked. You talked about your hopes and dreams, your past, how powerless you felt in knowing that your whole life was being decided for you. How nice of a surprise it was that somehow you'd been introduced to someone who knew every bit of how you felt.

It was silly, he knew that on some level. That a few hours with a person wasn't long enough to truly know them or to fall in love, at least not a love that would last for the rest of his life. But with you, he saw those gardens with new eyes. Things that had seemed dull and commonplace before seemed fresh and exciting. Things that had always seemed impossible felt not so out of reach.

At some point, you put your hand back in his. It was warm and comforting, and they fit together perfectly.

"Could I ask you a question?" Baxter said, pausing the walk to move to stand in front of you.

"You could."

"Do you believe in fate?"

By then, he'd seen you smile several times, but at his question, you positively beamed.

"I do," you answered. "And you?"

Matching your expression, he stepped closer to you, moving to place your hand on his shoulder as he put his own on your waist. You brought your other hand up to the back of his neck, toying with the strands of hair there.

"I do."

[sweetracha]

First Sleep Over with Stray Kids

Goodnight Moon: Lee Know

Sugar Content: Spicy Sweet (Smut), Sugary Sweet (Fluff), Sour Sweet (Mild Angst)

Allery Warning: Idol Member, Secret Relationship, Lowkey Unhealthy Relationship, Possessive Minho, Dom Minho, Nicknames (Kitten, Princess, Master, Sir), 'Public' Intercourse

The Sweetest Treats: @cr4ziee0szn

Confectioner's Note: This is my first time actually writing smut. While I read it, it was definitely different to write it. Hope you all enjoy!

Amber glows through the cracks of the log as embers burn out into a dark night sky becoming the stars. The moon chandeliers above as the subtle fog surrounds the venue. The world became the stage for lovers, dancing as if a part of nature itself.

Minho held you close. His hold was gentle as if he'd shatter you but secure as not to let the soft breeze take you from him. Nothing will take you from him again. 

All Min knew was flashing lights, tabloids, gossip, packed stadiums, little sleep, and dancing. That was his safety in this all. When he danced he was able to block out the whole world around him. It didn’t matter if he was one of the biggest idols or an absolute nobody, dancing was his lifeline. Then he met you. 

You were working at a small cafe located in the heart of Seoul. Patrons easily missed the quiet escape amongst the hustle and bustle of the city. Music played over the speakers in a low hum. Almost unconsciously you swayed along. Slowly you began to lose your mind to the calm melodic tunes. DING! You snapped to attention as the little sliver bell rang, alerting you of a customer. There you were met with a different Lee Know than the world knew. No longer was he the confident, cocky, stone-cold idol. Instead, he was a shy captivated boy who now knew what his childhood storybooks meant by love at first sight. Sweet as the sugar you baked with, you greeted him. 

The next year went by like a flash. Two comebacks, a world tour, hosting, and everything else that took him away from you. As an idol, he was not allowed to date, especially a nobody like you. He hated how the company described you that way after finding out. JYP himself organized a meeting to discuss "outside influences" affecting the team. Minho's blood boiled when he saw those words. The boys loved you! Chan saw you as a gift to them. The maknaes came to you for comfort most days. Even Changbin admitted on more than one occasion that he would protect you from any threat. To imply you were hurting the team made Minho want to quit altogether.  But he knew that wouldn't be what you wanted. You told him one night after a tearful confession that he was not allowed to pick you over his career, you made him swear by it. 

So without much of a choice, he had to break your heart. He showed up at your apartment and delivered the bad news then left. The staff made him delete all your information and scrub any trace of his once beloved sweetheart from his life. 

Or at least that's what the company believed.  After the meeting concluded Chan pulled Min swiftly into a supply closet, sporting looks of confusion from other idols. Christopher laid out the plan in full. Lee Know was to remain single and tell the public the reason why he frequented the bake shop was upon staff's request. However, Lee Minho would be fully committed to his blushing love as long as he kept it hidden. That meant no photos, no open lines of communication, and no more visiting his favorite Cafe. Everything began to weigh on you two until a little chicken came up with an idea.

"Why don't you two go camping?" Felix stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We can't 'just go camping' Felix, it's not that easy" Minho snapped back, he hated talking about you in this way. "Why? Chan only stated that you two can't be in public or visit each other's places…the woods are pretty private if you ask me" Lixie said with a hint of suggestion and a wink in his eye. He was right though, camping had been another escape for Minho before his life became crazed. Maybe it could be an escape now for the two of you? A place where he can have you all to himself, where no one can get in the way.

“I need you” he stated bluntly. His sudden words shook you out of your trance. With a giggle you responded “But you have me”

Long slender fingers tilted your chin upwards, making you stare into Minho’s now possessive eyes. “Kitten I need to show the world you are mine. I need every single living thing to know only I can have my kitten.” You nodded and he approved of your now redding complexion. 

Minho laid you down on the previously discarded blanket you two used for dinner. Soft fabric barely protected you from the rough ground but you didn’t care, not with how Min is feeling you up. He groped and grabbed as if he needed to know this wasn’t a dream. The now naked beauty in front of him was too good to be true.

“Minho touch me, please” You pleaded as he took his sweet time savoring your skin under his lips. You tasted as if you were created in that little cafe he loved so much. “Please sir” your weak little voice lit a fire in him.

“Look at you begging for me darling. Your sweet little moans are so tempting kitten. We are alone you know? Finally alone…and I am going to give you so many reasons to scream” His eyes went dark.

Minho lowered himself down your body as he slowly spread your legs. His grip was enough to tell you not to move them. While you both knew you were more than capable of being a brat, the way he was acting tonight told you that you better behave. A gentle test lick was given to your clit not long after a confident stripe followed. 

“You taste fucking delicious kitten, and you sound even better” he continued with his actions upon hearing your cries of pleasure. Once he felt you were wet enough, Minho easily slipped in two fingers. “I haven’t had time to fuck you properly baby, You've gotten so tight on me again. I need to prep you isn’t that right pretty girl?” His words were sweet but laced with a mocking tone. You were drunk on him. All you could do was cry out incoherent statements as Minho felt you clench around his digits. “Come on baby, you know what to do. Show the stars just how good I can make you feel.” With one final thrust, he felt you convulse through your orgasm. Min helped you down from your high but in your foggy state, you didn’t notice him pull his cock free from his sweats. It wasn’t until you felt the tip pushing through your entrance did you realize.

“I can’t it's too much” Your oversensitive mind took over. “You can princess, you are going to lay there like a good obedient kitten and take what I give you. Got it?” “too big” “I said ‘Got it’” Minho emphasized with a hand to your neck. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you whined out in satisfaction. 

He wanted to start slow, he really did. But with the way you were looking at him, glossy-eyed and innocent as you babbled away he had to ram into you. Quickly he sent a hard and steady pace that made you scream out. It was when you went completely silent, face contorting in pure ecstasy that he knew he found it. “Does that feel good kitten, did your master find your sweet spot?” he asked rhetorically as he slammed into that spot over and over again. With the way you were clenching around him, he knew he wouldn’t last long. He doubled his efforts if that was even possible.

“PLEASE” is all you could get out before you constricted again. “Cum for me pretty kitty, fucking cum” and with that you did. Shortly after Minho followed with a rumbling growl of your name. He fell next to you on the blanket, heart beating rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. A warm soft feeling came over him. Looking down he found a sleepy kitten curled into his chest. He knew he needed to clean you up and take you into the tent…but that can wait for a few moments. Right now he just wanted to be with you. He wanted to spend time with his true escape. 

Sleep Over Series Chan, Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, I.N

[slafkovskys]

why do those birthday bash pictures have me thinking about being friends with the hughes’ and they all love you and jack is a especially find of you. and he probably has a few drinks and he ends up a little off to the side with you, both of you giggling, in your own world. jacks putting his hat on you, then hitting the brim so it covers your eyes, making you laugh. and you can’t see it, but his smile could light up the entire room when he hears the sound of your laugh, knowing he was the one that caused it. and the boys all look over but when they see it’s you two, they smirk and decide to let you be…for now. and ellen and jim give each other knowing looks, wondering how long it will take for their son to do something about his feelings because they’d love to have you be part of their family

you can feel his presence behind you before you see him. his arm curls around your waist and you lean into his chest easily, an automatic reaction as you keep up your conversation with the girl you had met only a few minutes before. the cool can of his beer meets the sliver of skin that was exposed between your shirt and jeans and causes chills to erupt over your skin.

his lips graze over your ear, “come with me?”

you send the girl (amy, you think?) an apologetic smile as you turn your head slightly, “where do you want to go?”

“over there,” he nudges his head in the direction of the only empty corner in the bar and you hum, letting him pull you away without another word. he lifts you up onto the tall bar stool and bullies his way in between your legs, “that’s better.”

“is it?” you question and he hums, playing with a loose thread from one of the holes in your jeans. “what’s going on, j?”

“just over the party,” he admits easily, like he almost always did with you, “want to go home. go to bed. will you come with me?”

you send him a soft smile, pressing your lips to his warm cheek, “it’s your brother’s birthday and we’ve barely been here for a couple of hours. do you think that you can make it at least one more?”

he looks at you and you think you can see the wheels turning in his head before he looks back out to the floor of the bar where a good bit of his friends and family had gathered to celebrate luke’s eighteenth birthday. his hand squeezes your thigh and he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, something he did when he was geared up, “for you, yeah.”

“jack,” you grasp his jaw with your hand and gently force him to look at you, “you would tell me if something was wrong, right?”

that seems to spark something in him (or maybe it’s the drinks you’ve seen him and quinn splitting all night finally catching up to him) and it all tumbles out, “we’ve been with my family all day and yeah, i love ‘em, but i’ve only got a few more days at home. i want to be with you… alone.”

the thought crosses your mind to remind him that this was his family after all and you were only you, but you knew jack well enough that when he was in this state he would whine, argue, and pout until you would agree with him, so you just smile at him and tug on his sweatshirt, “well one more hour and it’ll be just us, j.”

“can’t wait,” he attempts to bury his face in your neck, but the brim of his hat stops him, “hate this stupid thing.”

“no one’s making you wear it,” you shake your head. he looks at you with the same look he has when he’s planning something and you watch as he quickly snatches the hat off of his head and it secures it atop yours, knocking down the brim so your view was obstructed. the quick movement causes you to rock in the chair and you squeal, reaching out to grab onto his arms to anchor yourself, “jack!”

he laughs, grabbing at your hips to help steady you. as a courtesy (or maybe to try and prevent a further scolding) he pushes the brim of the hat up and pushes your hair away from your face, “that better?”

“no,” you try to look in the dirty mirror beside you that had some liquor’s logo on it to make yourself look more put together, “you ruined my hair.”

“i hate to break it to you, but it was ruined before i did anything, babe,” you whip your head around so fast and jack’s laughter only grows louder which, unbeknownst to you, had started to draw the attention of the other patrons in the bar, but you were too caught up in each other to notice.

“so, what do they have going on?” one of quinn’s friends asks as he sidles up to the family’s table on the opposite side of the bar. no one had to look and see what was going on, but they did anyway only to find you taking jack’s hat off of your head and placing it in your lap, running a hand through his hair to fix it. jack’s got a soft smile on his lips as you do so, turning his head and pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist as you do so. “they’ve been inseparable all night.”

“you’re guess is as good as ours,” jim sighs. “we’ve been saying for the better part of a year now that maybe they’ll figure it out, but that hasn’t happened yet.”

“he loves her and she loves him, they’re just too young to figure out the logistics of it,” ellen shrugs as she takes a sip of her drink. she shares a look with her husband who gives her a nudge because they already knew as they had said, they were just waiting on jack to figure it out.

quinn smirks, pulling up a list on his phone and flashing it, “we actually have a pool going on for how long it’s going to take them to man up and get together. do you want in? it’s free to enter, but the prize money grows by the day.”

[atinylittlepain]

June - Part Two

joel miller x f!OC

series masterlist

warnings | 18+ dark themes surrounding suicidal ideation and attempt, smut, angst

a/n | hi, folks, welcome back. i'm quite excited and also quite nervous to start sharing more of June with you. This is work touches on very heavy topics, so please take care in reading it, and know that my DMs are always open if you'd like to talk about it. Thank you for reading.

..........................................

Little red flower on your wrist

Maybe the angel fired and missed

Blue and red horses on the run

I think the angel is jumping the gun

"Blue and Red Horses" by Adrianne Lenker

.............................................

A slip. That’s what the doctor calls it. She had a slip, slip, slip. 

He had been waiting for her on the porch, same as always. And when the sun turned to syrup and she still wasn’t home, he went inside to get his jacket. Two steps at a time, skidding to a halt in the sliver of light coming from her room. 

Head lolled back, the most peaceful he’d ever seen her, except when she’s sleeping. Somewhere between that, and something much deeper. He’ll grow a beard if it keeps her from getting her hands on a razor again. Dripping down her finger tips, onto the thigh of his jeans. So much of it, his hands started shaking. Drip, drip, drip. 

They keep her overnight at the clinic. White clothes, white sheets, white bandages, and the blossom of red they hide. She sleeps, mercifully. And he sits, his head propped on his palm, trying to figure out what went wrong.

Had something changed? He doesn’t think so, at least not for the worse. She had been eating, talking, working. They had found a rhythm, hadn’t they?

She sleeps, and he sits. Vigil, guard, whatever it’s called. Only letting one eye slip closed at a time, afraid that if he looks away, she’ll disappear. And when she wakes up in the morning, turning her head toward him, a sheepish smile curling her lips, Joel finds something that feels like anger resting heavy on his chest.

Keep an eye on–

Make sure she doesn’t have access to–

Bring her in if she says anything about–

He nods numbly at the doctor’s orders, his eyes darting over to her. Chin tucked down, picking at the edges of the gauze around her forearm. He has to swallow down a scream because why is everyone around him treating this like the most normal thing in the world? Why is no one else freaking out as much as he is? But he nods and he guides her out of the clinic, his palm hovering between her shoulder blades, unsure what will happen if he closes that gap, makes contact. She’s silent, chastened, like a child leaving the principal’s office. It makes him feel sick.

“Aren’t you going to be late for your shift?”

“Are you serious?” 

“I was just asking.”

“Well I’m not. Not going anywhere.”

“You’re upset.” It’s a statement that makes him scoff, frustration rising hot and jittery up his neck, steadying himself with a palm pressed flat against the kitchen counter as he looks at her.

“A little bit. What made you do that?” He has to take a deep breath when she shrugs, knuckles tensing into a fist, open, close, open, close.

“Nothing made me do anything. I was just ready.”

“For what?”

“Just ready, Joel.” Back and forth, back and forth, his jaw slides in a hard grind as they stare at each other, unblinking, a yawning space between them.

“You need to eat. Sit down.” He’s a bit surprised when she listens, but then he sees it. The way her shoulders fold around herself like frail wings, fingers steepled in a light press on the table, her lashes brushing her cheeks with the droop of her gaze, a frown that folds like wet silk. And suddenly, he can swallow his anger, a bitter pill that leaves an urgency in its wake.

He toasts the bread in the pan, a thick slice smeared with butter on both sides. Something solid, affirming. And jam, but not the red kind, no, no, no. Blueberry, she likes blueberries. And they have blueberry. She traded for it two days ago. Before, before, before. 

Sweet, sweet, sweet. A prayer in the pass of the knife. Stay, stay, stay. 

And he sighs, long and low in his chest, when he sets the plate down in front of her. For you, for you, for you. She picks the piece of toast up, carefully, fingertips only, tilting it this way and that.

“Eat it, please.” He sits across from her at the table, his arms folded in front of him, steady eyes, something in his chest unfurling when she finally takes a bite. It’s slow, methodical, a languid roll to her jaw as she chews, her eyes holding his as she swallows. He watches every bite until the plate is empty.

“I want to lay down.”

“Okay.” 

She looks displeased when he pulls a chair into her room, sitting down right next to her bed with his knife and a scrap of wood. She turns her back to him, a long sigh making the covers rise and fall. Silence, save for the light scratching of his work, shavings floating down around his boots, worry holding his throat in a tight fist.

…

“I’m not going to stab myself.” Her crassness is a slap in the face, enough for him to relent and pass her the kitchen knife, letting her get to work on the vegetables for dinner. She slept for most of the day, something the doctor had told him to expect after she lost so much– 

“Shit.” His body slips into motion before his mind, palm circling her wrist to draw her finger into the warmth of his mouth to stop the–

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t, June.” He lets go of her wrist, a reluctant release. She curls her hand against her chest, something small and wounded. And then they snap back into the task, the crease of time smoothed out. 

…

“Why do you want to leave?” He left out one word in his question. Me, me, me. 

“I just do. Same as you.” But he doesn’t, not anymore, a secret he’s been keeping tucked between two of his ribs, an aching truth. He turns his head on his pillow, studying the slope of her nose, the stillness of her eyes, looking straight up at the ceiling of his bedroom, her hands clasped together over her stomach. The moon casts slants of light across the bed, across her face, her scar turned silver along her temple. For a moment, there is no sound except the dull croak of crickets, one last symphony before the end of the season. 

“I won’t if you won’t.” She tips her chin toward him, owlish and unblinking in her wide stare.

“Okay.”

…

“People say she’s crazy, you know.”

“There’s plenty of reasons to be crazy in this world, kid.” This is new. Good, clear hope fluttering in his chest, though he tries to school any excitement out of his expression should Ellie detect it and flee. Neutral ground, the dining hall for lunch. 

“Yeah, but people say she’s crazy crazy.”

“Ellie.”

“Sorry. I guess I’m happy for you that you found someone.”

“It ain’t like that.” 

“Sure, Joel.”

“How’s Dina?”

“We’re not doing that.”

“Not doing what?” 

“I’m not gonna tell you how my girlfriend is doing.”

“Well I just told you about mine, didn’t I?”

“So she is?”

“Is what?”

“Your girlfriend, you just said–”

“Wait– no– I didn’t– that just came out.”

“Sure, Joel.”

…

​

They go to movie night. Sitting in the back of the hall. Some film from the nineties, all the actors with British accents, all the women in the crowd letting out a sea of sighs. He studies her face, awash in pale blue light, eyes steady and tracking. An imperceptible drag of his chair, an inch closer, and a leap. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t recoil, when he drapes his arm over the back of her chair, his fingers barely brushing the outside of her bicep. Up, down, up, down. Her eyes don’t leave the screen.

“Do you like this movie?” Only the faintest warble of his voice breaks his whisper, and she finally glances at him.

“Yes. You should be watching.” I am, I am, I am. Watching so closely. 

He fills his lungs with cool, clean air when they step out of the darkness of the town hall and into the darkness of the night. His arm feels boneless, electric, from the way he had kept it framing her shoulders. And then he sees the little drops of light running down her cheeks and his heart curls up into a tight clench.

“Why are you crying?” He’d like to tuck those words back in his throat, instant regret at the way she swipes away any evidence, sniffing hard to stop herself back up.

“That movie always makes me cry.” He realizes all at once that he hasn’t seen her cry since that night in that field. Her hand in his, relief stretching like a taut muscle when her fingers curl around his, staying like that the whole walk home. 

“Are you hungry?” “Not really.” He slices two plums, purple soaked flesh that dribbles and bleeds down their wrists when they sink teeth into tartness, hip pressed against hip where they’re leaning against the kitchen counter. It’s impulse, obscene instinct, coaxing her hand to his mouth so he can lap at the juice that drips between her fingers. Sweet, sweet, sweet. 

This time, she takes. Turning toward him, closing that space with a tentative lean, her head jerking away once before she finally presses her lips against his, drinking the sigh that washes through his chest. Her fingers twine behind his neck, a perfect weight pulling him down into her. And something snarls, a touch of impatience in the way her tongue slides against his, teeth a sharp graze. His hands curl around her hips, a careful press that she preens into, her chest brushing against his. He has to slow her down when her movements flare frantic, something he knows will eventually spook her right out of his hands. Forehead to forehead, his nose running the arc of hers as she catches her breath, tiny pants that wash over his mouth.

“Will you tell me what you want, June?” 

“This.” This, this, this. He takes her hand, a quiet tug upstairs and into his room and then his fingers start to turn desperate. And hers do too. Undoing buttons, swiping through zippers, pulling and pushing, seeking new skin. A patient unraveling, slowness he struggles to abide by. A careful allowance of wandering, palms sweeping over the bare softness of her stomach, up along the crook of her collarbone, dipping down to trace the swell of her breasts, the quick catch of her breath when the pad of his thumb slips over a peaked nipple. She steps out of his hold, his heart sinking, buoyed when she lays out on the bed, slinking down onto her elbows, warm in the light of the lamp he had half a mind to flick on.

Thin, frayed cotton, his fingers catching on the fabric, hooking, sweeping down the line of her legs and then she’s bare before him, something better than perfect. A soft hinge of her hips, an invitation for him to rest there. And he does, palm skating from the crook of her knee up and up, jumping from the swell of her hip to circle her wrist. He wants it to hurt, just a little, the kiss he presses into the gauze wrapped around her forearm, a cry breaking in her throat when he holds his mouth there, a hot stamp, a silent plea. But he wants to soothe as soon as it stings, so, so soft, lips smoothing over her pulse, the fine tendons jumping beneath his mouth.

“Please.” Oh, he likes the way that sounds. Warmth rising up and up, lips curling up and up, a curved press to her stomach, dragging lower, the hook of her hip bone, the soft crease of her thigh. And he breathes her in, coaxing the sloping backs of her thighs over his shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles into the tensing muscles, slow, slow, slow. Swollen, the glistening middle of a plum, dark and slick and dripping down his chin. He goes greedy with it, insistent in the way he drinks from her, lapping up everything she has to give, tongue a hot, demanding press that makes her hips jolt. Easy, June. Easy, easy, easy. His eyes drag up the heaving plains of her stomach, the gentle shake of her breasts, neck long and taut, lips parted, a portrait of the pleasure he’s pulling from her. 

“Joel.” Joel, Joel, Joel. Like a wave crashing in his ears, her whole body furling up around him before slackening, smooth and soft and sighing, her hands in his hair tugging up, up, up. He hopes that she tastes herself on his lips, and he thinks she does when she groans, low and mewling into his mouth. A fire flushes up his neck, his cheeks, when she takes him into her hand, soft, soft, soft, her eyes not leaving his. And he’s already so close to too much, the way her wrist flicks between their hips. No one’s ever been so gentle with him. It makes him ache.

“Please.” It’s his turn to say it, and her turn to permit, her legs slipping open even more, long lines of muscle and ligaments, a silent affirmation of want. Warm and soft and wanting, pooling thick in his spine, seeping, bursting, until he’s full of the feeling, his hips pressed so close, so snug to hers. She seizes around him, a long exhale that breaks high in her throat, and he stills, pressing his face right over her heart, willing ease into the pumping of blood, the coil of muscle. She hooks the swell of her calf around his hip, a soft press, a silent command that makes him huff out a quiet laugh against her sternum, the sound fizzling out in his throat when he meets her watery gaze. Wide eyes, blown out dark, dark, dark, swallowing him up. 

His arm is a frame, a protection, curled around the top of her head, keeping her steady and safe as each press of his hips sends them shucking further up the bed. And she holds on, little half-moons of her fingerprints pressing into his shoulders, the arch of her heel slipping along his low back.

“June.” Over and over again. June, June, June. A cry, a prayer, a demand, a steadying sound that he breathes out against her lips. And he’s not being patient anymore, desperation driving his hips to a heavy rhythm, little sighs slipping from her throat with each beat. 

Need, need, need. He needs to feel her like this, his fingers a plea, a mess against that place that makes her preen around him. Her back curves, tight and hot, the taut peaks of her breasts pressing, dragging against his chest. She unfurls for him, his name a high, clipped sound in her mouth. And he shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t, pain in his sigh when he pulls away from her warmth, smearing himself against her stomach, pale, pearling, pleasure. 

It’s broken and ugly, like she can’t take a deep enough breath, her chest catching, shivering with the sob. All he can think to do is lay the weight of himself over her, solid, insistent, sweat and spend cooling sticky against skin. His palms find her ribs, steady pressure to smooth the shake.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” She needs this. He knows she needs this. Something finally tearing open inside her, spilling out, his hands waiting and willing to hold it.

“You just cry, June. It’s okay.” He whispers it to her, words stamped into her skin, just beneath her collarbone. She cries and cries and cries. And he holds her through it, until her breaths start to turn smoother, slight hiccups of salt. Her eyes are heavy, swollen, slipping down her cheeks. He presses his lips over one, the other, her lashes flickering, quick winged reaction. 

Clean, warm water, long sweeping palms. Soap that smells like honey passed between open hands. They’re close and quiet in the steam of the shower. 

“Does it hurt?”

“A little. I don’t like the way the stitches feel.” He wraps fresh gauze around her forearm, hiding the jagged, dark lines, smoothing his thumb down the trail of her destruction.

Socked feet that slip against his ankles. Her palm an anchor against his stomach, her cheek pressed warm and soft over his heart, clockwork setting back into time. 

“Goodnight, Joel.” “Goodnight, June.” 

[seokmthw]

take a break | kim gyuvin

⇢ pairing: gyuvin x reader

⇢ warnings: fluff

⇢ word count: 676

⇢ note: sorry for being a little ia as of late, i promise i'm trying my best to get some stuff written! i started my full time job last week and have been super tired, so please bear with me!

you huffed in annoyance, tugging at the roots of your own hair at the dreaded powerpoint that was displayed in front of you on your all too bright laptop screen, your mind reeling with all the possible things that could go wrong while you were presenting it in class the next day.

you’d been working tirelessly at it for hours, the only thing keeping you going being a coffee and chinese takeout your boyfriend had brought you for dinner hours earlier.

said boyfriend wouldn’t stop trying to get you to call it quits for the night, either.

“y/n~” gyuvin whined, his voice slightly muffled from the comforter he was currently burying his face in, “come on, love, you’ve been working yourself to death. at least take a ten minute break.”

“i can’t, i need to make sure everything is included in this so i can minimize the chances of me screwing everything up tomorrow,” you passively dismissed, waving your hand lazily at him while you were reaching for your coffee, which by now was watered down, but you didn’t care.

after a few more minutes of typing and reviewing your notecards, gyuvin was talking again, “if you don’t stop for the night, i’m gonna start crying. is that something you really want?”

you couldn’t help but chuckle, “whatever you say, gyu.”

“babe,” gyuvin defeatedly sighed, “i know this is something yourself stressed out over, but i seriously think you’ll do just fine. besides, if you keep cramming stuff in for hours on end, it doesn’t really help you retain much anyway.”

you stopped reading your notecard halfway through, absorbing every word he just spoke and realized that maybe, just maybe, he was right. and as if on cue, he was speaking again.

“also, i really, really wanna cuddle with you right now. i’ve been waiting for hours and i feel like i’m gonna die.”

you chuckled, swiveling in your chair to face the boy who sprawled out on your bed. his hair was in messy tufts in top of his head, his t-shirt was bunched up enough to reveal a small sliver of his tummy and his sweatpants were sloppily tied up. the comforter was barely covering him as well, just enough to give him the warmth and safety he needed.

you had to admit, his arms looked beyond welcoming.

you sighed, taking one last look at your powerpoint before finally closing your laptop and putting your notes away in your bag, finally admitting, “i guess you’re right.”

“oh sweetheart, come here,” you rose from your chair and crawled into bed, where gyuvin was laying with his arms wide open, and melted into his embrace like your life depended on it.

you could feel a soft laugh rumble in his chest, his voice quiet as he spoke now, “i can tell you’re tired.”

“i really am,” you agreed sleepily, your eyes growing heavy after only moments of being wrapped up with him, “thank you, gyu. i mean it. i don’t know what i would do without you.”

he pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead, pulling the comforter over your bodies and somehow managing to bring you even closer to him. within mere minutes, he could hear your breath even out and small sounds erupting from your lungs to let him know that you were sound asleep.

the boy smiled to himself, somehow managing to shut the lamp off behind him without waking you. while it was almost a chore for him to get you to take even a five minute break, he wouldn’t trade it for the world. there was always something about the way you would laugh at his corny jokes and whining that always made him want to keep pestering you.

he brushed the loose strands of hair from your face and kissed your forehead once more, mumbling, “i love you, stubborn ass. you’re gonna knock that presentation out of the park tomorrow.”

slowly but surely, he fell asleep too, content by the mere fact that he had you by his side.

[mamawasatesttube]

How about 35: "It's just a headache, I'm fine."

With Tim taking care of Kon after he overused his TTK?

A sliver of light falls across the floor from the hallway as the door starts to open. With the haze of pain fogging up his entire brain, it's barely enough warning for Kon to remember to croak out, "Don't."

Tim stops, hand falling away from the light switch. "Kon?"

Even the idea of lifting his head from the balled-up hoodie he's using as a pillow is agonizing, so Kon opts for the world's most pathetic peace sign. "Sup."

"What are you doing?" Tim slowly closes the door again, at least; the darkness is blessed relief from the stabbing pain behind Kon's eyes at even the faintest light. "Why are you on the floor?"

Kon squeezes his eyes shut, ignoring the way Tim is definitely scrutinizng him in the dimness. His brain is probably doing that BBC Sherlock thing, tagging and analyzing his pained body language, the way he keeps pushing his thumbs into the pressure points just below his eyebrows, the tension in his shoulders. Tim would hate it if he described it as a BBC Sherlock thing, of course; that's why Kon keeps doing it.

"It's just a headache." His voice is a little too breathy from pain to be dismissive, but he tries. "I'm fine."

"You could've gotten in the bed, at least." Tim sinks down next to him on the rug. "What caused it? Are you hurt?"

"Fuck, Rob, not so loud," Kon groans, rubbing his temples. "Ugh. S'nothing. Overdid the TTK holding all those skyscrapers up for so long this afternoon, that's all. And bed sounded too hot."

Tim is quiet for a moment. "You never told us that gives you migraines."

"Never seemed to matter." Another wave of agony throbs behind his eyes, lancing straight through the deepest parts of his skull, and Kon swallows down a whimper. "It, ugh, it happened way more when I was freshly hatched. Now s'not all that... frequent."

"You being in pain always matters to me," Tim says softly. He lets out a breath, quiet even in the silence of the room, and shifts his weight slightly; Kon can hear the rustle of his clothes. "...Can I get you something? Is there anything—you came to my room for a reason, right? What do you need me to do?"

There's an undercurrent of desperation in his voice, barely there, but readily apparent to anyone who knows him even half as well as Kon does. He hates being helpless, hates seeing anyone he loves in pain, hates not being able to fix it. Kon smiles wanly, opening his eyes to look up at him; it doesn't hurt, not too bad, since the room is so dark.

"I'm in your room 'cuz you have the best blackout curtains in the whole Tower," he says honestly; even in this state, he doesn't miss the way Tim's shoulders droop slightly. "But... if you could get me an ice pack—no, two—that would... that'd be pretty rad."

Tim's on his feet before Kon even finishes his request. "Yeah, of course, I have plenty—" and then he's off like a shot to the mini-fridge in the corner, pawing through the freezer in the dark like a raccoon. Kon hides a wince; his ears are too sensitive for even the slight crinkling and cracking of the ice, and nausea churns in his gut.

But then Tim's back, and in his hands are two blessedly cold packs, wrapped in cloth to make them easier to use.

"God, Rob, I could kiss you," Kon tells him, pressing one to the back of his neck. It's instant, if not total, relief, and he lets out a low moan as the agony spearing through his temples starts to ebb out into the chill. After a second, he presses the second one over his eyes. Fuck, that's so much better...

"Do you need anything else?" Tim asks, hesitating. "I can get you some tea, or a blanket—no, you said it's too hot, um—do you want a sleep mask? Or I can—"

Kon reaches up, grabs one of his hands, and hauls him back down to sit on the rug. It takes a mildly herculean amount of effort, but he lifts his head next, scoots over, and places it on Tim's thigh, so that he can tuck his face (and ice pack) into his stomach. "Shut up," he mumbles, "and just... stay."

If it's too cold, or uncomfortable, Tim makes no indication. He just lets out a soft, "Oh," and then, to Kon's delight, threads his fingers tenderly into his hair. "...Is this okay?"

If his touch was a little more direct, if his gentle caresses were any faster, it'd be too much. But as it is, it's helping, and if he stops anytime soon, Kon might cry.

"Better'n okay," he answers, and despite his migraine, he smiles slightly against Tim's shirt.

[papayatori]

Don’t Blink! (P7)

LN4 x fém!reader Warnings: Suggestive content, 18+

I woke up, completely surrounded by warmth. Stereotypically, people forget what happened to them the night before until their brain has had time to wake up. Not this time, however. The first thing that my eyes landed on was the flower sitting pretty on the small table in front of us, exactly where it was when I had fallen asleep, reminding me that it wasn't all a dream. I let out a mental sigh of relief. At least I hadn't made it all up in my own mind. I felt stirring beneath me followed by a soft groan that I'm ashamed to admit sent shivers down my spine. I decided to risk it and opened my eyes just a sliver to look up at the man responsible for the goosebumps on my skin. To my dismay, he was staring right at me. He cracked a smile, I knew I was caught. "Good morning, Darling." He half whispered to me, squeezing my body slightly. Still not completely awake, I responded. "Morning." He gave me a look of remorse. "As much as I hate to move you, I have to pee." I giggled before reluctantly climbing out of his arms.

...

...

...

The flight home was rather quiet, other than the occasional remark from Lan or Oscar. I sat and listened to my music, hoping to find a little peace of mind after this stressful weekend. The only thing that I had found difficult to think through, however, was what the hell this made me and Lando. I mean, think about it. Friends don't usually fall asleep together or cuddle all night. At least, not the friends that I had any experiences with. I thought that maybe if I had told him my feelings that things would be easier between us, but somehow it's gotten a bit more complicated. Just my luck, thanks Oscar. There would be times when I would look up and find Lan staring at me, which would've been a bit unsettling if it were anyone else. Though, Lan only looked at me with a smile on his face, there was nothing weird about it. He was just admiring me, and I knew this because i was doing the same to him.

Lando drove me home with my hand tightly clasped into his. Since we were alone again, we didn't have to worry about any questioning glances from Oscar, or worse, Zak. "You're awfully quiet." He said, squeezing my hand slightly as he did so. "Just thinkin'." "Thinkin' bout what?" I could see his brows lowered in his curiosity. "Do you want the long answer or the short answer?" I asked him, a small smile playing on my lips. "Short?" His voice went up a bit on the last half of the word. "I'm thinking about this." I squeezed his hand gently. He smiled, but then a frown appeared to replace it. "What would the long answer have been?" "A wordy explanation of everything I've been overthinking for the passed 11 hours." His brows furrowed again. He reminded me of a puppy. "So, what are you overthinking?" "Short answer or long answer?" This time he didn't respond, he just glared at me. I giggled before responding. "What exactly are we?" Lan smiled. "Do you want the short answer, or the long answer." It was now my turn to glare at him. "Hey! That's my thing! You can't just take it." "I can, I did, and I'd do it again." I pouted, pulling my hand from his, earning a shocked gasp. It took so much out of me to keep from giggling. "I see how it is, mate." He said, side-eyeing me harshly. I couldn't hold back anymore, I let out the laugh I had been holding in as we pulled into the parking of my apartment building.

"You never answered my question." I said, grabbing his hand with a smile on my face. "Technically, I did, you never answered mine." He said, still pouty even though I had his hand back in mine. I rolled my eyes and opened the car door, getting out as he did the same. "Alright Lan, hit me, give me your long answer." His expression changed, taken aback that I let him get away with his thievery. It twisted into a mischievous grin, causing worry to form in the pit of my stomach. "We are two people in the world full of billons, two specs in the grand scheme of things-" "I'm going to take my hand away again." I said, glaring in his direction as we walked through the complex and earned strange looks from some of the passing people. Lan gave me a challenging stare, to which I smirked and dropped his hand like he had done mine a few minutes ago. "No wait!" He practically yelled as we walked through my door, immediately grabbing it back with a pouty look on his face. "I'm sorry." I smirked, not responding and dropping my luggage on the floor. I would sort that out later, right now I needed to sort out my reeling mind. I pulled Lando over to the couch to which he followed with his bottom lip poked out. He looked at me like a pleading child. He was so cute that it physically hurt me to look at him. "You're a literal child, Lan." I smiled while rolling my eyes. His hand was warm and comforting in mine, i couldn't help but feel safe while it sat there like it belonged, like we belonged. My hunger for him grew as our eyes locked, my mind had suddenly skid to a sudden halt as we continued to explore what was behind each other's iris's. That raging, painfully beautiful turquois sea passionately threw his emotions about as if they were on display for all to see, or maybe that was just how it trusted my own eyes, which seemed to be its' main attraction for the last few days. His hand moved from my own, leaving mine cold and empty from lack of his touch; though it made up for it with the long trail of heat he left on my arm as he made his way up to cup my cheek. I pushed it further into his palm, silently letting him know that I loved his touch more than I let on. I saw him smile a small, compassionate smile, the kind that could make my knees weak with just a small glimpse. "I'm not sure what we are, y/n. That's why I didn't answer before." His smile faltered slightly before his lips parted once more. "I'm not really sure what we're supposed to be either. In all honesty, I'm more scared to make a decision with you than I have been with anyone else in my entire life." His eyes slide from mine for a moment, as if trying to assess the words that he had just said exactly as I needed to. "I'm not really sure I'm ready to make that decision yet, and I'm not entirely sure I would make the right one." I had slide into his embrace now, finding comfort in his arms while my heart tore itself apart trying to find the meaning to all of this. "Well, I don't think we need to make any sort of immediate decision, as much as I want to rush into things." He looked down at me once he had finished speaking, lips still parted and wet from the flick of his tongue. Those lips of his were enticing, and his tongue was poisonous, but I couldn't help but wonder what that poison could do to me once injected into my veins.

"Then, why don't we take things slow." I said, hand tracing its' way up his body to his chin, pulling it down slightly so I could drown in his ocean eyes. His lips curled into a smirk, as if catching my drift. "What are you suggesting, darling?" His accent rang through my ears at his seductive tone. It was deep and rich, drenching me in whatever emotions it possibly could to warm my stomach. I didn't bother responding, only smirking before pulling him down to meet my lips with his own in a crushing embrace. It started off sweet and calm, but our need and hunger for each other turned into a desperate necessity quickly after the first taste. I kissed him like I had been starved, already feeling the swelling of my lips. He pulled me into his lap as we continued, as if it it took him no effort at all. I felt his tongue swipe my bottom lip, asking for permission. I granted him access happily, welcoming the poison with open arms. His hands were on either side of my waist, holding me against him with just enough strength to secure me, while also sending a friendly reminder that he could do much more with that strength. He squeezed me as my hands had found their way up his shirt and feeling his toned muscles. I could feel the pooling of myself beneath me at the thought of how he could use them with me. I felt his pleasure growing beneath me as he pushed himself up, causing me to moan slightly into his alluring lips. As quickly as it had happened, he pulled away from me, his hands steadying me and holding me still. Confusion set itself upon me, had I done something? "I'm sorry." He said, lust still evident in his gaze. "As much as I want this, we shouldn't take the risk." He wouldn't meet my eyes. My emotions had calmed slightly, as I realized why he had stopped. I slide back into my seat on the couch, snuggling back into him as his hand found mine, squeezing it in another apologetic attempt. "Can I just stay here tonight?" He asked, looking back down at me as if he needed to ask permission. I smiled, feeling the aftermath of our makeout session already.

"Anytime, Lan." We smiled at each other again before he leaned down to gently kiss me one more time. He leaned into my ear, lips brushing it slightly and sending a shiver down my spine. "Please don't think I didn't want to, because I can assure you every bone in my body wanted me to push my way through those tight leggings of yours once I felt how wet you were." After every attempt to shove any sexual feeling aside I had made after climbing out of his lap, he had just ruined every last one of them with one, tender whisper. "Then I suppose we'll be going to the store later today then, correct?" He smirked at my statement. "I think that's the one thing we can be sure about." Tag list(lmk if you want to be tagged) @kapsylia @venus-willow @eugene-emt-roe

[niallsgoldhoop]

small talk

niall horan one shot seven thousand words cw - sexual content, harsh language, spitting, spanking, name calling

The lighting inside of this place is dim, but not dim enough that I can’t still make out the slight tan line from where my wedding ring used to sit. 

Calloused fingers with tan skin, the thin sliver on my ring finger where my ring used to sit taunts me of what I miss more than anything in this world. 

I dropped the kids off a few hours ago and my heart hurts knowing that I’m going to be without their sweet laughs and giggles for the next three days, making my weekend longer than it should have ever been in the first place. 

Amber liquid sits in the glass tumbler in front of me, the same drink that she used to order, one that still tastes like her if I close my eyes and think about it hard enough. I try not to let my thoughts wander, knowing that she’s the last person I want to even start to think of.

With the sleeves of my cream colored shirt rolled up, I trace the pattern of the stitched design with my fingertips. I remember how dumb that my comments were when Rigby bought me this shirt, how I went on and on about how something could cost this much, making a complete ass out of myself in the moment. 

Now I wear it when I want to remember her the most. 

As I think about her, I curse myself and down the rest of my glass before holding my fingers in the air, signaling that I need another round to take my mind off of everything it doesn’t need to be on. 

She wasn’t here. 

Rigby wasn’t here. 

I sigh as the waitress drops off another drink to my seat at the bar, leaving me with a wink that makes my stomach curl. Bringing the old fashioned up to my lips, I let my eyes scan across the bar and study the people that mill about inside. 

You’ve got women out with their friends, men dressed up in suits looking for a release at the end of the work day, guys out just to watch the game, and then there’s me… 

A guy looking to forget the brunette with green eyes that stole his heart inside of a pub almost a decade ago.

Rigby and I.

Fuck if were the match of a lifetime. 

Shaking my head, I try to clear my head of the way she always looked in the mornings — her least favorite time of day. 

Even after Rory and Finn were born, Rigby hated mornings and even our children took after her. So there I was, stuck with three cranky children every morning. 

Rory and Finn were cranky until they got chocolate chips on their waffles while Rigby was cranky up until the first ‘I Love You’ came from my lips, nothing a kiss in our pantry couldn’t solve. 

Unable to control my thoughts I lift the glass to my lips and tilt it towards the ceiling, letting the rest of it glide down my throat and wash down the memories of yesterday's past. 

When I place the glass back on the bartop, I hear the bell to the entrance open and my eyes can’t help but look at who the newest occupant is. 

My eyes zero in on a pair of emerald green heels, straps wrapped around delicate ankles that tie into a perfect bow. Following the flawless skin of the longest legs I’d ever laid eyes on, my eyes take in every detail about the black dress that ends just at the knee but with a slit that rides all the way up to the upper part of their thigh. 

If their legs weren’t catching my attention for the first time tonight, the perfect tease of cleavage hidden behind the sinfully low neckline would do the trick. 

Shifting on the barstool, my cock twitches in my pants when the blonde turns around and shows off her perfect ass. 

My god. 

In a last ditch effort to make sure I didn’t look like a fucking psychopath, I pull out my phone. 

A smile spreads across my face to see both of my little hellions on the screen. Rory was standing in front of me with her little hot pink soccer jersey and holding her new first place trophy while Finn was wearing his own little green soccer jersey, crying and reaching for his sister's trophy because he wasn’t interested in the one he already had in his own hand. 

Rory’s pigtails were crooked because even after five years I still couldn’t get them straight, not that she ever let me forget saying ‘mommy could do them right’.

I know, kid. 

I know she could. 

Closing my eyes, I try not to think about her. 

Again. 

“Is this seat taken?” A feminine voice makes me snap open my eyes, looking to my left to see the vivacious blonde standing next to me with her gaze on the open barstool next to me. “If not, that's okay.”

If I thought she looked incredible from across the room, I surely wasn’t prepared for how she would look standing right next to me. 

“No, no. Go ahead.” 

The smell of her perfume lingers as she sits in the chair, crossing one leg over the other and exposing even more of her thigh that makes me feel like I can’t focus on anything else. 

Bad Niall. 

“God, this place is busy.” Her voice is smooth and rich, much like the drink I wish I hadn’t already had. “Can I get a margarita on the rocks please?”

I watch as she captivates the bartender, his eyes veering very, very far from her face as she orders and for once — I can’t blame him because my eyes are already there too. 

Quickly regaining any sense of decency left in my body, I subconsciously rub my left ring finger, still feeling as empty as I always do without it. 

“Long day?” 

Turning to face the blonde woman, a half smile stretches  across my face as I run my hand through my hair, thinking back to this morning. 

One with two grumpy children, neither of which could be consoled by a handful of chocolate chips. 

Rory wanted to wear her Rapunzel dress to school, which was impossible considering they were going on a field trip to a farm. Even after I kneeled in front of her and explained it, she still threw herself on the tile floor and cried. 

I swear she cried harder than I did when she walked away from me and into the door of her kindergarten class on the first day of school. 

Then we have Finn. 

While Rory was crying over her inability to be able to annihilate her dress from Disney World that my parents bought her in Paris when we visited, Finn was crying over how many green fruit loops were in his cereal bowl. 

Apparently today he all of a sudden hates the color green. Even after I picked all the green ones out, he still wouldn’t stop crying, claiming the whole bowl was contaminated.

By the time I got both of my children loaded in the car — Rory in her Rapunzel dress and Finn with a stomach full of Lucky Charms — I was an hour late to The Bunk Off. 

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Her eyes linger on mine while I speak, making me almost forget that my children were absolute heathens. “Long day for you too?”

She blows out a breath, followed by a light laugh as she breaks her gaze from me to thank the bartender for the drink he put down in front of her. “Oh, always. You try working in an office of men who constantly act like the world owes them something and tell me you don't leave working needing some kind of release.”

No, don’t even think about it. 

Bad, bad Niall. 

While I told myself I would just have a couple drinks and head back home to an empty house, I find myself ordering another drink and shifting in my seat so my body leans into the woman just the slightest bit. 

Curious, I raise my brow in her direction. “What do you do?” 

“Divorce lawyer.” I don’t miss the way her lips turn up into a smile at her own answer. “I spend my entire day with men who want to act like children which means I pay an astronomical amount of money to drink at a hotel bar. But it works out in my favor because I always take advantage of the spa the next day.”

Now that she’s closer to me, I can smell her perfume. It’s nothing too heavy, but a light fruity scent that could draw anyone in. 

“I could see how that would guarantee the need for drinks on a Friday night. You have my utmost praise for dealing with man-children all day.” A soft laugh falls from my lips and mixes with her own as she rolls her eyes, making my mind think about whether she rolls her eyes in other situations as well. “Cheers to men who don’t act like children.”

My glass hovers in the air as she eyes it intensely, so much so that I’m about to set my glass back on the bartop before she clinks them together, taking a long drink out of hers through the skinny straw that’s been provided. 

“Reese.” Thrusting her hand out in front of me, I study it with a careful eye. 

Taking her hand gently in my own, I make note of the softness of her skin — a feeling that I haven't felt in what feels like forever. “Niall.”

Devoid of an engagement ring or a wedding ring, I let out a quick breath. 

Definitely don’t want to go down that road again. 

Imagine being so close to your own climax when the woman underneath you tells you that she’s married.

“So, Niall.. What brings you here alone? Surely you’ve got to be married or at least dating someone?” Looking at me over her glass, I can practically see the gears turning in this woman’s head. “If not, then I'm sorry for assuming.”

“No, no.” Liquor coats my tongue as I search for the right answer. “No girlfriend and uh, no wife.”

The feeling of the words coming off of my tongue makes me feel slightly nauseated, like I’d rather chop my own tongue off than have to say them again. 

Reese doesn’t respond, she just nods before averting her gaze away from me. 

At this angle, I can make out the gentle slope of her nose as well as her high cheekbones. Pair that with the elegant way her neck seems to curve down into her shoulders and you’ve got an incredible sight for sore eyes. 

“So tell me, what do you do? You know what I do, so what does the quietest man in this bar do?”

Running my hand through my hair, I watch her eyes move to my bicep as her tongue runs along her bottom lip. I haven’t forgotten about the way my pants are fitting tighter as she shifts in her seat, the slightest change in the way she’s crossing her legs in her chair and it stirs something deep inside me. 

“Well, I own a pub.” 

Cocking her head to the side, I can’t help but laugh. “If you own your own place then why are you here — drinking?” 

Shifting in her seat, I try not to let it show the moment her foot makes contact with my calf. 

“I’ll let you in on a secret..” Taking a deep breath and blocking any outside thoughts from

my brain, I lean over and let my lips brush against her ear. “I don’t like to mix business with pleasure, you know? It can make for a very, very messy cleanup.” 

I know I’m not imagining it when I hear the way her breath catches in her chest or the way I see her fingers flex on the glass of her drink, clearly I’m not the only one aroused in this conversation. 

“How messy exactly?” With her glass to her lips I watch as she swallows down the last of her drink, willing myself not to come undone when her tongue glides alone her bottom lip to make sure she tastes every last drop of the liquor. “Actually, just say nothing. I think I can picture it.”

What is happening right now?

“Excuse me, can I get my check?” My breath catches in my throat as she places her hand on my thigh while she leans forward to signal the bartender. “You can add his to my tab.”

“No, no— you don’t have to do that! Here.” Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my wallet and grab my card and all but throw it at the bartender who could care less. “I’m not about to let you do that.”

Besides, I haven’t paid for another woman’s drinks in years. 

I guess now is as good a time as ever to start.

While the man runs my card, I turn to find her already looking at me with a look that I can’t run and hide from, not with her stare on me. 

In my entire existence, I think the only other time that I’ve felt time drag on as long as it is waiting for this man to bring me back my card resulted in the birth of my two children. 

But as I sit here, time drags on so slowly I think it’s been at least a year when the man hands me the receipt and pen. 

Signing my name down at the bottom, I stand from my stool at the same time my new companion abandons hers. Looking at me from over her shoulder, I can’t stop the way my eyes trail down her body — thinking what I’m going to do when I’m alone with her. 

We walk in silence to the elevator but the energy between us is buzzing, like a live power line that’s been knocked down by a powerful storm. 

Stepping in behind her, I lick my lips as she peers up at me with a familiar mischievous glint to her emerald eyes. Turning and pressing her ass into me, my hands immediately grip her waist and pull her into me as my lips fall to her neck. 

“Where to, Niall?”

A low laugh falls from my lips as I let the lust that’s been fueling my body for the last hour and half take over as I bite down on her earlobe. 

“Straight up to your room.”

Bringing my attention to her neck, I nip and suck at her smooth skin and smile into my actions when I hear a whimper fall from her lips as her hands clutch mine along her waist. “Fuck, touch me. Please. 

“You want me to touch you in this elevator, baby?” My words are hot on her skin yet goosebumps race across the surface as one of my hands slide from her waist to the apex of her thighs and slips under her dress. “What floor are you on?”

She doesn't answer me as she tips her head back onto my shoulder, the blonde hair smelling faintly of pear shampoo. “I’m on the twenty third floor.” 

“Think I can get you off that fast? Hmm?” Smirking against her skin, my finger runs along the drenched material that covers her center. “I need you to answer me or I’m not going to touch you at all.”

“Yes, but anybody can get on this elevator though!” I can sense the panic in her voice as I slip the material to the side and run my finger through her. 

I moan out at how wet she is for me. “Guess I better be quick then.”

Without waiting for a response, I thrust my middle finger into her at the same time my other hand finds her pebbled nipple through her dress and brings it between my thumb and pointer finger which makes her throw her head back with a loud moan. 

“Gonna take my fingers here in this elevator? Didn’t know you were so easy.” Adding another finger to her pleasure, I make sure to put extra pressure on her clit as I work the area quicker while continuing my assault on her neck. 

Her hand grips my wrist as we both stare at the numbers climbing on the elevator wall. “Me either, fuck. Niall!”

“Come on, do my fingers feel that good? Already feel your tight cunt clenching around them. All you have to do is let go, relax. If you want it, you can have it.” Husky and low, my own voice is mixed with a moan when she reaches behind her and grips me through my pants. “You wanna touch my cock, is that it?”

“Yes.” 

Her breathless moans finally reach their peak when we pass the nineteenth floor as she comes all over my fingers, silently moaning out into the air of this elevator before letting her body relax back into mine to catch her breath. 

While I may be having sex with a women in a hotel, I’ve not forgotten my manners as I kiss the side of her neck and run my hand up and down her waist before the elevator door opens and we walk out onto her floor. 

“I’m in, um, fuck.. Room 2334.”

Silently we make our way around the corner and I don’t dare take my eyes off her ass as it sways from side to side in her black dress, the way her long legs look make me imagine them wrapped around my waist which is exactly where I intend to have them in the next five minutes. 

The card beeps once it’s been waved in front of the automatic lock, swinging open to reveal a large room with floor to ceiling windows and a massive king sized bed in the middle. 

In my moment of weakness for the skyline of Boston, two delicate hands push against my chest and make my back slam against the door. “Cat got your tongue?”

Lips meet mine at an urgent speed, immediately parting my own and letting me taste the liquor that still lies on her tongue. I moan into the kiss when I feel those same hands leave my chest behind to fall to my waistline, undoing my pants and pulling them down just far enough that my aching cock springs up against my stomach. 

“Look at you. You were so quick to comment how wet I was as you fucked me with your fingers on the elevator, but look at you..” My mouth hangs open as she strokes me with determination, her thumb coming out to swipe at the precome leaking from my swollen tip. “You’re so hard for me and I’ve barely touched you, Ni.”

I can feel her leave open mouthed kisses along my neck as she stops to bite along the skin every so often, making me thrust up into her hand at a slow pace. 

Not enough that I’m going to come undone, but enough that the friction is driving me crazy. 

“Shit, I didn’t know the woman I was meeting tonight was such a tease.” There’s a hint of sarcasm to my voice, but mostly it’s just driven by lust as I look into her eyes just seconds before she lowers herself to her knees in front of me. 

“No small talk, it just gets in the way.”

Those are her final words before she takes me into her heavenly warm and wet mouth, her tongue flattening underneath my heavy cock as she sucks and bobs her head at a dangerous pace. 

The back of my head hits the door as pleasure shoots through every single nerve fiber in my body, from the tips of my fingers to the tips of my toes I can feel myself getting burned by the fire. 

“Baby, fuck.” Tangling my fingers into the blonde hair, I choke on my own moan when she pulls off of me only to flick her tongue on the most sensitive part of me. “If you don’t stop I'm going to come, fuck. Rigby.” 

The name falls from my lips at the same time that my eyes snap open and the motion between my legs stops two seconds before the woman between my legs laughs. 

“Seriously Niall? Again?” Standing up from her place on the floor, Rigby looks at me with her bright green eyes full of humor. “Are you going to forget whatever name I pick every time we do this?”

I reach forward with both hands and pull her to me as my lips find hers in a messy and passionate kiss, making sure that the very convincing blonde wig she’s managed to put on comes off, letting her brunette hair fall free around us. 

“To be fair, I doubt you want to hear me moan out another woman’s name while your pussy milks me for everything that I have. Am I wrong?” Reaching my hand to her side, I pull on the tiny zipper and groan as the fabric falls to the floor. “Also, I can only act for so long. You own me, clover. Don’t like acting like I’m not married to the finest woman I’ve ever fucking seen.”

Standing in front of me now is the same woman I fell in love with all those years ago. 

Only now, she’s got a couple more tattoos and her body is even curvier. 

I didn’t think it was possible to be more turned on by Rigby, but watching her carry and give birth to our children? 

Watching her tell me it wasn’t the end of the world that Rory got a Rapunzel dress muddy — saying we owned a washing machine for a reason?

Watching her tell Finn that when the color green hurts her feelings she eats Lucky Charms — the cereal daddy always brings her to cheer her up?

Yeah. 

I’m never not turned on by my wife. 

“Okay, you’ve proved your point.” Rigby sounds breathless as I lean down to kiss her again, taking my kiss from her lips and down her neck and making sure to suck a dark bruise just below where the collar of her work blouses sit. “I love you, fuck.”

Gently nipping at her sensitive nipple, my hands wrap around her waist to flip her backwards and press her ass against my throbbing cock as I walk us forward as I leave kisses against her temple. 

The view of Boston spreads out in front of us as we stop in front of the window. “I love you too, clover. Now let me show you.”

Wrapping an arm around her collarbone, her back curves into my chest as I push her forward and her body presses into the cool window eliciting a gasp from the temperature change against her hot skin. 

Finding her swollen clit like it’s my home, my fingers work like they’ve never had another job in their life while I bring her nipple between my pointer finger and my thumb again while I pinch hard enough that she moans and I feel her body shiver in my arms. 

Over the years, Rigby and I have explored our sex lives more than we ever thought possible. 

Both of us are kinky as hell, which works in both of our favor.  

Tonight wasn’t the first time we met in a bar and acted like we didn’t know each other, and it sure as hell won’t be the last time either. 

The same goes for being able to read each other’s bodies like a well worn book. I know that as soon as I apply almost enough pressure for it to be painful to her nipple and thrust two fingers into her, that she’ll come on the spot. 

So that’s what I do. 

“Good girl, that’s my baby.” Kissing the back of her neck, I hug her body into mine as her legs tremble from trying to hold herself up. “You look so beautiful when you come for me, so fucking beautiful. You know that, right?”

Turning in my arms, I kiss her and walk backwards to the bed and turn us at the last second and lay her down on the million thread count sheets. “Mmhmm, you tell me all the time, charms.”

“Good, don’t you forget it either.” Shedding the rest of my clothes, my eyes meet hers. 

I kiss her gently and rest my palms on the mattress to hold my body above hers while I slide down, taking her nipple in my mouth and teasing her until she squirms underneath me. “Want to taste you again, Niall. Please.”

Hearing the most powerful woman on the planet beg for me? 

Am I supposed to say no to that?

“Here.” Laying down on the bed, she raises one eyebrow in my direction. “You sit on my face and let me fuck you with my tongue while you fuck me with your mouth, yeah?”

As eager as ever, Rigby throws her legs over my torso and faces the foot of the bed while she shuffles backwards until her perfect wet, pink pussy rests right above my mouth. 

Running my hands up her thighs, I take a greedy handful of her ass in each palm before pulling her down to sit on my face while moaning out at the feeling of her taking my cock all the way into the back of her throat. 

She tastes like the only thing I want for the rest of my life as I flatten my tongue and run it through her, using the tip of the strong muscle to flick against her clit which makes her whimper against my cock and the vibrations from that have me leaking into her mouth at a rapid rate. 

While I feast on her, she uses her hand to wrap around me and twist while she brings her mouth up and down on me in a perfect combination that she knows will have me coming down her throat if she keeps it up. 

Not to be outdone, I bring one hand off her ass and bring it down hard enough to make her jerk on top of me at the same time I bring her clit into my

mouth, sucking harshly and nibbling the spot with my teeth and with one final spank, she comes again for me at the same time she brings me to my own demise, swallowing everything as she tries to ride out her own orgasm. 

“Rigby, fuck.” Out of breath, she rolls next to me on the bed before kissing me, letting her tongue meet mine so we can taste each other. “My perfect wife.”

I cradle her chin in my hand as I look at her while my other hand reaches to tuck a strand of her sweaty hair behind her ear. 

All these years she’s been there for me. 

When Harry and I opened another pub, she was there for me. Crunching the numbers and offering her advice all along the way. 

When I had to quit playing recreational soccer because I broke my leg? She was there. Taking me to therapy and forcing me to do the exercises even when I didn't want to, making me better. 

When I cried the day my little girl walked into kindergarten like she didn’t need her daddy anymore? She was there to remind me that I got to scare away every boy who came into her life for the rest of eternity. 

As she smiles at me right now, it’s full of bliss and it’s lazy. 

She’s been just as busy as I have been over the years. 

Carrying both of our children through high risk pregnancies, not to mention coming out a survivor through two miscarriages that broke both of us to the core. 

Rigby was now an owner of Byrne & Klein, owned by her and June. They bought out the men, making them one of the top women owned and ran accounting firms on the East Coast. 

My brilliant, brilliant lover. 

Not to mention, we both coached the kids soccer team and although I was calm and collected.. Rigby found her way back out into the parking lot more often than not for using one too many colorful words one too many times. 

“My perfect, Ni.” Finding my lips with hers, she starts a lazy, passionate kiss. 

It doesn’t take long for it to become needy, it never does. 

Throwing one leg over me, I cup Rigby’s perfect tits in my hand with a rough squeeze when she rocks her center against me. “You still hard for me, baby?”

“I’m always hard for you, what do you mean?” I laugh into her kiss for only a second before I tip my head back at the feeling of her clit rubbing against the sensitive ridge of my cock. “You gonna fuck me, clover mama?”

“Always.” I watch in awe as she positions me at her entrance and sinks down on me in one motion, not being able to decide if I want my eyes on her face, tits, or where we are connected. “Ah, fuck. You fill me up so fucking good, always full when you are inside me. Fucking me. Loving me.”

Placing my hands on her waist I match her rhythm as I fuck into her, my rough movements making her tits bounce with so much force I’ve decided I’m never looking away from them as I lean up to nip her with my teeth a couple of times. 

“I need more, Niall. I need it.” 

Her wish is my command as I pull her down flush with my chest and slam my hips up into her as she cries out into my chest at the pressure, giving her exactly what she needs. 

“Are you going to come again for me? Let yourself go all over my cock?” My own voice is strained as I try to hold myself together, knowing that she’s about to be so pissed at me. “Come on, don’t be shy.”

Hair sticks to her forehead and her body is covered in a sheen of sweat as I feel her start to contract around me, squeezing me so good that I have no choice but to pull out before I let go before I’m ready. 

“Are you fucking joking me?” Red cheeks match the animosity in her gaze as I roll us over, bending down to suck her clit in my mouth for a few seconds which has her screaming out before I pull back and sit on my heels, pumping my cock slowly in my hand as I look down at her gorgeous body. “Fuck you, asshole. I was so close.”

“No, I’m not joking.” Slapping the side of her thigh, I gesture towards the bed with my chin. “Get on your hands and knees.”

“No.” If there’s one thing about Rigby, it’s that she’s going to be a brat. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Reaching up, I grip her jaw harshly but soft enough that I know I won't hurt her. “I said get on your hands and knees for me, slut.”

A moan comes from deep in her throat and I smirk as the fire I love so much blazes in her eyes. “Or what? You gonna punish me, daddy?”

Strengthening my grip enough to keep her mouth open, I lean over her and spit directly onto her tongue, watching as her eyes roll back into her head before she swallows. 

“Is that what you want? For me to punish you? For me to fuck you so hard you can’t see straight, hmm?” I know my words have the desired effect when Rigbys breath hitches in her chest and she nods a moment before breathing out a yes. 

Tilting my head down, I let a low chuckle fall from my lips before I lean back over her and instead of gripping her jaw — I drop my hand to her neck, putting pressure in the places she needs it to get a proper, safe head rush. 

“I said, get on your hands and knees..” Biting her bottom lip, I pull it back roughly and when I see a small drop of crimson, I flick my tongue across the spot to collect it. “Right the fuck now.”

Finally rolling onto her stomach, I pull her hips up as my palm runs down the middle of her back to push her face down into the mattress before taking her hands, clasping them together and holding them behind her back. 

With my other hand I smooth it over the porcelain skin of her ass before cracking my palm against it, making her cry out. “What’s our rule, hmm?” 

“I, it’s— Ah!”

Bringing my palm down in the same place, I watch as the skin turns slightly pink from the impact. 

“Rigby, I asked you a question.” Trading which of my hands hold hers, I repeat my actions on her other ass cheek, watching her jolt and moan beneath me. “I expect you to answer me.”

“If I want to act like a brat..” A moan falls from her lips as I slide two fingers inside of her, moaning myself at how fucking wet she is. “Then I get treated like a brat.”

“Correct.” I pull my fingers back only to fuck into her with three and the sounds filling up the room have my cock painfully aching with how turned on I am, it’s insane. “Listen, I know you thought you were going to get to come again around my cock, but how about you beg for it instead.”

Pushing her hips back into my hand, I bring my palm down on her skin. “Please, I—“

“You what? If you want my cock, you beg for it while I fuck you with my fingers and until I think you’ve begged enough, yeah? Do not even think about coming until I say you can or we are going to start this all over again. Do you understand me?”

Nodding into the mattress, I let out a quick prayer that I can hang on as my fingers find the spot that drivers her wild. “Please, Niall. Fuck, fuck.. I need you.”

“You’re going to have to do better than that.” Picking up my pace, I ease another finger into her and listen as she moans out incoherent phrases at the feeling. 

“I'll do anything. I need your cock, need you to fill me up..” I watch as her eyes roll back into her head as her body jerks when I find a particularly delicious spot inside of her. “Your come needs to be inside me, baby. I want it so bad. There's not anything I want more than to milk your cock so good, fill me up until I’m spilling out for you..”

With that I pull my fingers out of her and line my throbbing cock up with her, thrusting in all the way and tilting my head up towards the ceiling as my moan is loud and deep, bouncing off the walls. “God, you fucking pull me in like you need me so bad, like this pussy is made for me and only me. Letting me fuck you so goddman hard.” 

“Niall.. I’m so close. Please, don’t stop.” I continue to thrust into her deep and hard, making contact with her g-spot and making her legs tremble as we both find ourselves on the edge of our release. 

“You feel so good.” 

“You know, I really liked the blonde.” My pace picks up as she clenches around me. “You looked so fucking good.”

“You think?” Barely audible from her pleasure, Rigby manages to get the words out. “Maybe I’ll dye it blonde.”

I choke on a moan as I near my end, getting so close. “It doesn’t matter if you dye your hair hot pink, I’m still going to bend you over and fuck you like the slut that you are, yeah clover baby?”

“Ni, give me another baby. Please, fill me up and give me another one.” Her moan is loud as my pace falters at the thought of seeing her pregnant again. “I want it so bad, let me have it.”

Rigby only lasts a couple more strokes as she comes undone, coming so hard that she nearly pushes me out as I finish deep inside of her, filling her with my release. 

Staying seated inside of her, I rub my hand up and down her back as she lays spent beneath me. “Did you mean it? Rigby, tell me you meant it.”

Pulling out I roll her over onto her back and can’t help but lean down and kiss her, letting our tongues meet for only a moment. “Yes, I want another baby. Please. Just one more time, give me more.”

“Baby, you’re so tired.” I cup her cheek as I look down at her. “We can talk and keep trying.”

She shakes her head as she looks up at me, determination in her tired eyes. “Please.”

As much as I feel like my orgasm emptied everything from my body, I know that as long as she says please, I’ll do whatever she wants. Looking down I can see where my come is dripping out of her perfect pussy, so I slowly slide back in, leaning over Rigby on my elbows and bringing my lips to hers. 

“I love you so much, pretty clover girl.” My hips meet hers in a slow, gentle pace as she tips her head backwards into the pillows. “I’ll give you as many babies as you want.”

Rigby brings her hands up to cup my face as I thrust into her, feeling her legs shake from her overstimulation. “I want as many babies as we can make, love having a family with you, the perfect dad, the perfect husband, the perfect lover.. Oh, fuck.”

I feel as she contracts and releases around me, pumping her through her euphoria as I take one of her nipples in my mouth and suck lightly before I feel myself come again only a few minutes later. 

Keeping myself inside of her, I roll us over gently, tucking her into my side as she collapses against me. “We can stay like this for a little while, but then we have to get up and get you cleaned up, okay?”

I can feel her nod into my chest as I run my fingers through her hair, giving her twenty minutes before I’m pulling out of her and carrying her to the bathroom. 

“Come on baby, let’s take a bath. Let me clean you up and then we can sleep all night.”

•

As good as it feels to spend the weekend holed up in a hotel, having uninterrupted sex with my wife… There’s not a greater feeling than seeing my kids running towards me and launching themselves into my arms. 

“Daddy, daddy! Look what I made!”

I pull back and look down at the paper Rory holds in front of her. “Let me guess… That’s Moana?”

Laughing as Rory looks at her mom with her mouth wide open in shock, she turns back to me with a look of disdain. “No, look, it's Rapunzel! Everyone knows Moana  has pretty brown hair like mommy— not yellow. Silly daddy!”

“I’ll show you silly!” Picking her up in her Rapunzel pajamas, I tickle her sides as she squeals and laughs, relaxing her body into mine. “Where’s my other cutie?”

Finn launches himself at Rigbys legs, making her laugh as she stumbles and falls over in the front yard. “Easy buddy!” Reaching for him and pulling him into her arms, she nuzzles him in a motherly embrace while she kisses his little face all over as he laughs and puts his chubby little hands on her cheeks. His dirty blonde hair is a mess but his striking green eyes are full of trouble.

“Pretty mama!” leaving a wet kiss on her cheek, I smile at Rigby as we look at the beautiful and healthy children in our arms. 

“How’s my baby girl? Did you have fun at Uncle Harry’s house?” Rory nods in my arms, launching into a story about how Harry dressed up at Ariel while she played in her  Rapunzel dress. 

Rigby holds Finn in her arms and pinches his little red cheeks before tickling his ribs. “And what about you, what did you and Uncle Harry do?”

“We ate peas!” 

Both Rigby and I burst out laughing as Harry joins us and Rigby rolls her eyes, looking at Harry. “I guess there was a reason we gave Finn your middle name. You are both pea lovers and that worries me.”

“Finn loves peas? Yuck!” Rory makes an exaggerated gagging noise as I hear the last member of our family finally making their way out of the house and down to my feet. 

“There’s my other girl! What have you done all weekend, Guinny?” 

What is it that they say about all dads and the dogs they didn’t want? 

Yeah. 

That’s me and our black and brown dachshund, Guinness. 

At least I got to name her. 

“Well other than the one time she threw up in the kitchen? She’s been fine.” I look at Harry as he rolls his eyes before looping his arm around Margo’s waist. “But the resident veterinarian here said she’s fine, someone just fed her too many snacks.”

I don’t even have to guess which child of mine is the snack smuggler, looking at Rory in my arms as she fiddles with her hands in front of her, making eye contact with the birthmark on the side of her left hand. 

“Rory James, what have we told you about feeding the doggie too many snacks?” I try to be stern, but she’s so fucking cute with her brown hair and light blue eyes it’s impossible. 

She sighs as her shoulders deflate. “That if I feed the doggie too many snacks then her tummy gets upset just like daddy’s does when he eats too much cheese.”

“Exactly.” Rigby smiles as she tries not to laugh just like me. “We gotta remember that, okay? Remember how grumpy daddy gets when he doesn’t feel good?”

“Hey!” Jumping in to defend myself, everyone starts laughing before poking fun in my direction. “Alright, alright. Let’s get out of Uncle Harry’s hair and go home, okay?”

“Kids go get your bags!” Letting go of Rory and Finn, I watch them disappear into my best friend's house as I wrap my arm around Rigby’s waist. 

Leaning in, my lips brush against her ear before I kiss her gently. 

“Come on, let’s take our babies home, clover baby.”

* more on wattpad @ niallsgoldhoop *

[yukimiyaz]

ok ok :( what about like kurona who just really likes it when you play with his hair, he’ll even let you do his tiny littol braid or put clips in his hair cause he likes how it feels

kurona likes to think of himself as a relatively observant man. one who finds things easy to catch on to and willing to cultivate around. one who is knowing, about things that matter, at the very least.

so it hits him rather harshly when you make him discover things about himself that he somehow didn't know before.

he has always been fond of affection—especially yours—and that is nothing new. how your hand grazes along his shoulder when you walk behind the couch. how you have a habit of tracing tiny hearts or sentiments you think he can't decipher onto the back of his hand when you're bored. how you slump into him after a long day and nuzzle underneath his jaw, press kisses there as you mumble about your dreaded hardships.

but his world tilts a little when your fingers snake their way north of his neck.

he's had people mess with his hair before; tug at his braid or poke at his spikes to see if they're as stiff as they look. but there's something different about how you go about it. something... winsome.

the first time it happened was when he came home one night after an away match. it was late, you were already in bed, he knew this. so he was quiet as he slinked in. dropping his duffel and discarding his outer clothes in favor of climbing into bed next to your sleeping form. you looked so peaceful he didn't want to startle you, he could say a proper hello in the morning, after all. so he simply slipped underneath the covers, craned over to press a longing kiss to your shoulder, and rested his head there for just a moment.

a second later is when he felt it. the pressure of your hand to the back of his head, your fingers sifting through the (probably a little grimy, honestly) tufts. your nails skimmed across the tightness of his scalp and kurona is damn near positive that he melted so heavily into you he fused with your own skin.

the serenity it brought him, the peace that flooded his chest—the endearment that swallowed him whole—was enough to send him barrel rolling off the deep end of unknown pleasures within himself. and he could no longer get enough.

which seems to ring true even now, as he lays across the couch with his head in your lap as you ramble about your day.

"and then—get this," you scoff, fingers scritching at the hair by his temples, weaving their way back until you're nearly lifting his head to skim the base of his skull. he loves this, truly. "he blamed me for not having my name on it. as if that means my lunch in the workroom fridge is fair game. can you believe it?"

"no," he obliges; the answer he thinks that you're looking for. truthfully, he's been half zoned out, reveling in your touch and letting his eyelids grow heavier and heavier. "what a jerk move."

"right?!" and suddenly your hands are retracting, making kurona's heavy lids shoot a little more alert with the fear your touch will be leaving him. but you simply shift, skim past the left side of his face to grasp the sliver of hair he usually plaits. he relaxes once again. "so i told him the next time he takes my lunch, i'll shove my fist so far down his throat that..."

you're still talking, he is aware, but he isn't really listening. so unlike him, in all honestly, but he doesn't think he can be to blame. your finger is twirling around his hair now, combing through the lock and twisting it as you please. he wonders if you'll try a different braid tonight, like the fishtail one you showed him the other day and propositioned with gleaming eyes. he thinks he'd let you. he thinks he'd let you do anything if it meant your fingers were still entangled in his faded pink strands.

he's continuing his contemplation when your hands come to a stop; a pause ceasing their mindless fiddling. he blinks up at you, zones back in, and he realizes your mouth is no longer moving, but is now cinched in a bit of a pout.

"hey, don't tell me i'm putting you to sleep," you gripe, though he notices there really is no bite. not one he can detect at the very least, "were you even listening to me?"

"yes," he replies instantly, nodding his head in your lap, "keep going."

and he halfway expects you to (you often times do, when you're riled up like this) but instead you ask him the one question he was hoping you wouldn't. "oh yeah? what was i saying then?"

your boyfriend blinks up at you. a pair of them, then thrice. you know good and well he wasn't listening, you just want him to admit it. after a sliver too long of silence, you tug on the strand of hair you still have wrapped around your fingers and he sucks air through his teeth.

"ah," he hums, narrows his eyes up at you ever so slightly, "that isn't playing. or fair."

you tug his braid again, but this time you retract your hands after. testing your hypothesis, proving your thesis right. kurona's head is raising up a second later and his shoulders are shifting enough to turn and face you. his warm palm finds your wrist and wraps around it, pulling your hand back to him—to his hair.

"okay, i wasn't listening," he admits, fully, "but i promise i will if you don't stop doing that. repeat yourself just this once, please."

his eyes are so pleading, so begging, that part of you thinks he might have been your devoted worshipper in a past life; kneeling before you for the mere honor of laying his head into your lap. you smile at the thought, and at him, and you indulge him—if only to watch his slit pupils expand.

"mkay," you adhere, and try not to let your smile appear too shit eating as you begin to separate the strands for his braid. "if you say so."

kurona melts into your touch once more, but this time he stays attentive. he likes to think of himself as a well observant man, but sometimes outliers tend to send his reception askew.

but as long as your fingers always find their way back to the weaves of his scalp, he thinks he's okay with being off beat every once in a while.

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 2

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in. 

Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want.

At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

Warnings: descriptions of past toxic relationship/cheating; consumption of alcohol; anxiety; mentions of sex/sexual situations; Jake being an asshole; Reader takes an extra Melatonin (doctor's advice)

Chapter Word Count: 8.1k

Covet Masterlist

a/n: wooohooo! we have come to chapter 2! 

please forgive me for how long this took to be posted. i am a school teacher, and the end of year is the most hectic. 🫠 so, busyness combined with my need to make sure i personally feel good enough with a chapter to post it. . . it’s not a good combo. lmao although, summer is right around the corner! and i promise when it comes, covet will get much more of my attention!! 

reminder that this is a ~slow burn~ in its truest form. 

i <3 and appreciate you all!! i truly can’t say thank you enough for the support and kind words (it means so much, esp w/ this being my first gvf fic). i love hearing feedback from each and every one of you!! 

alright, i will be done w/ my rambling. i apologize on behalf of myself. lol

hope you enjoy, my loves. 

Disclaimer: this is absolutely, undoubtedly 110% a work of fiction. i do not claim to know greta van fleet. i do not claim that any of this actually occurred. again, this is a complete work of fiction. And, please, DO NOT steal this work, as it is 110% mine. plagiarism isillegal. and, as our friend google puts it, plagiarism is “illegal if it infringes an author's intellectual property rights.” and, being these words/ideas are my intellectual property rights. . .don’t take them. legal action will be taken if you take credit for any of my work.

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Chapter 2

The first month of living with Jake went about as smoothly as one would expect. 

His first full day in the apartment, you’d woken up, ready to be nice. Really. You’d tried your hardest to forget about how he’d acted when he had made his grand entrance. 

But he wasn’t giving up on his act. 

When you’d been standing at the coffee maker in the kitchen that first morning, loading your K-Cup, he’d stopped at the counter. You didn’t know what for, but when you noticed him there, you had tried to start a conversation. Some meaningless small talk to try and break the ice he’d created. 

And his only response? A barely audible hum. 

You did give him credit for glancing up to at least acknowledge your presence. Although, that’s the bare minimum of basic human decency. So, you didn’t give him much credit. 

But, that had been it. And then, he’d left for the day. 

It had instantly caused you to be pissed at everything. Including the coffee maker’s little unnecessary spurts as it poured coffee into your mug. 

Every day since then had gone about the same, sometimes with even less interaction than that. And to you, the lack of desire to even try to associate with you was offensive. 

After all, you were the person who had literally given him a place to live.

To make things worse, he was that kind of asshole that you couldn’t seem to get out of your head. It really just confirmed how truly repulsive he was.

You had gotten an idea midway through that first month to begin compiling a list of apartment rules. 

Initially, it had seemed pointless. Then, you reminded yourself that you were worth better treatment. You knew you deserved for Jake to show at least a sliver of respect towards you in your home.

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You decided to tell Josh of the rules you’d crafted. 

“I will be very honest, I really don’t know how well those will go over, Y/N.”

He was giving you a look that instantly made you go into defense mode. 

“Joshua. It’s been a month,” you matched his look with one of your own. You wanted your point to be known. You were going to make damn sure that Josh understood why you wanted to do this. “Josh, he still barely even looks at me. I think rules would give us some sort of common ground. And it would force him to show the place—and me—some respect.”

“Jake has never been one to want to follow the rules — do what he’s told,” he scratched the buzzed side of his head, right above his ear. 

You stood with a hand on your waist, right under your thrifted crop top. You eyed him, making sure he knew he needed to elaborate. 

You didn’t know much at all about your roommate. 

You’d been waiting for Josh to share more, but he didn’t share much. He claimed that it wasn’t his place. You were desperate though. All you knew about Jake was that he was your best friend’s twin, what his record choices were, that he had been in an apparently crappy relationship, and the fact that he was an ungrateful asshole. 

Josh relented slightly. “I’ll tell you this story because it involves me as well. And we were so young,” he leaned with his back against the checkout counter, facing away from customers. “When we were in our freshman year of high school, he played soccer while I participated in theatre. He enjoyed it and he was actually quite good at it, you know,” Josh smiled, obviously replaying memories. “But, high school classes grew increasingly harder. We both struggled, honestly. We love to learn more. . . I mean, you know this about me. He’s the same way. But we really only enjoy doing it most when it concerns the subjects for which we’re passionate. 

So, high school work being less than interesting to us both, our grades dropped. Big time,” his eyes widened, once again reliving it all. At this point, he was staring into space to tell the story. “Our parents and teachers came down on us hard. They told us we would be kicked out of our extracurricular activities if we didn’t raise our grades.”

You shook your head, looking around the store. A couple of regulars were perusing. You knew them well enough to know it would be awhile until they were done. “I know exactly where this is going.”

You both made eye contact then, and as he looked your way, he gave a little closed-mouth grin that made his eyes crinkle. “Yeah? Guess.”

You smirked at your friend. “You, being you, were determined to show that you had what it took to make the grade. You cared enough about theatre to continue it,” he nodded at your words. “And, in the time I’ve known you, you’ve never been one to say no to a challenge. It’s why we are friends. I love a good challenge.”

He made a noise of agreeance. Then, his eyebrows raised and his lips turned down. The look he gave you told you he was impressed. “You know me well,” he continued. “Now, how well do you know your roommate?” 

You scoffed. “As you know, not fucking well. But I know he couldn’t give two shits about what others think of him,” you pointed to yourself. “I’m a shining example. So, —.”

“Essentially, he said ‘fuck it’ and just decided to continue on with what he had been doing in his classes, which was jack shit,” Josh had finished for you, wanting to complete the story he’d begun.

“How did he even pass high school?”

He gave you a deadpan stare and raised his  eyebrows. You rolled your eyes. At the same time, you both said:

“Girls.”

You rolled your eyes even harder this time. “Good God.”

Josh nodded, lips turned down, his eyes still held a little glint. “Yup. Get my point now?”

“Yeah, but like I just said, I’m not one to turn down a challenge. Just like you, Josh,” you smiled at a customer who was finally walking up to the counter, a few records in hand. “And your brother. . .I’ve learned he is nothing if not a challenge.” 

He nodded, he knew you were right. And he’d known you long enough to know that you did indeed enjoy overcoming any problem life may hand you.

In this instance, you hoped he understood your current challenge/problem was Jake.

And you needed to know how to fix it. Josh was your only source. You just had to get him to break for more information. 

Again, you really liked a good challenge. 

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The shift rolled on. The two of you had been working the closing shift that day. 

So, as the day shifted to evening, and with about an hour before the store closed up, you started nightly duties. Josh went about straightening vinyls, fixed the ‘Featured’ wall (his favorite), and re-folded the shirts the store carried with the Black and Gold’s logo. 

Meanwhile, you swept and dusted the store. 

You hated to admit it. You really did. But you couldn’t help how the conversation from earlier had piqued your interest even more than before. 

You were now hooked. You wanted to learn more about your mysterious roommate. 

You debated how you were going to ask Josh for more information. What was a way you could ask that would convince him to tell you more about his twin? 

Ever since Jake had moved in, you’d tried so desperately to get information out of Josh. 

And he just refused to budge.

You were putting the broom away when you’d settled on how to ask him. 

You were going to be a jackass and use manipulation. 

You sucked, you knew this. You were just dying to know more about this person with whom you shared your home. And, to reiterate, it had been a damn month of knowing next to nothing about him. 

So, when you joined Josh behind the counter as he balanced the register, you were ready to play your hand. 

“Alright, so, Elsie still isn’t sure if she wants to be in your movie.” There it was. A complete lie using your sister— the one he was completely smitten with. In truth, Elsie had agreed on the spot. 

But, again, desperation had led you to this. 

You didn’t look up from your task of watering the plants that sat at the window. Just keep talking. “I have a proposition for you. You tell me more about Jake and I will convince her with everything I have to star in your film.”

You still didn’t look over to him. You were afraid of rejection. Then, you heard what seemed to be a sigh of defeat out of your best friend. You looked up to him, his eyes still reading uncertainty.

“Y/N,” he sighed. You knew he was about to say the same thing he had said for the past month. 

“I know, Josh. It’s not your story,” you moved forward to be standing right next to him. You balanced your elbow on the counter, you needed to say your piece—needed him to understand. You locked eyes with him, pleading. “Come on, Josh. I am desperate. He won’t offer anything up. He is silent. It’s been a month. He refuses to acknowledge my presence, hence me forcing him to notice me with the rules,” you paused, suddenly looking to the ground. You needed Josh to bend to your vulnerability. “But, I just need something else. You told me that one story earlier,” you urged. “Just something else small that might help me know him a bit better than I do now.”

You looked up. You were anticipating another rejection from him after you’d finished babbling. Though, his eyes seemed to open more at your apparent state of helplessness. 

He knew that it wasn’t fair what Jake was putting you through. He had to acknowledge that. You knew he felt most things with you. And you knew he was someone who had enough integrity to want to help you out. He knew this situation had been less than ideal.

He just had to loosen up on his stance of not wanting to tell his brother’s stories.

He released one more sigh. “Fine,” he looked you in the eyes. “And please try your hardest to get your sister convinced to star in my film. The role was created for her.”

You nodded. You looked to the ground once more at that last part. You felt guilty for using that little white lie. “You’ve got it.”

“Y/N.”

You looked up to him after he’d spoken your name in a tone that was much more serious than his usual. 

His brown irises were intent as he spoke. “You have to know I’m breaking a big rule of mine,” he continued. “I don’t like speaking to stories that belong to other people. Our experiences are unique to us. They deserve to be told by those to whom they happened.” 

You nodded. You understood his point. You totally knew why he felt the way he did. 

“Josh, you can just tell me childhood stories that involve both of you,” you grabbed his arm. You needed him to know you were being genuine. “I don’t want to make you betray your principles.”

He patted the hand you’d placed on his arm. “I appreciate that, Y/N,” he cleared his throat. “I just think you need to know some of the—,” he spread his hands out to emphasize, then clapped them back together. “The bigger pieces of him. At the moment, he won’t let himself show you who he is. He really isn’t a bad person. He’s just been through a hell of a lot recently.” 

All you could do was nod your head once. There wasn’t much left for you to say. You would let the curly headed man begin when he was ready. 

He eyed the clock. You looked with him. Only thirty minutes to eight o’clock. 

You looked down to your palms, wiping them on your jeans. They were suddenly getting clammy at the prospect of what information could be hitting you within the next 30 minutes. 

“I’m going to begin by saying that as his five-minutes-older brother, I’m glad that Jake gets to finally live life for himself without having to worry about being hung up on a girl,” he looks to the two folded chairs that always sit behind the counter. “Let’s sit.” 

You follow him to the chairs. And as he sits in the right chair, you sit in the left. He looks into space, contemplating what to say next. 

“Jake is seriously going through something he has never experienced before. I mean, your significant other being unfaithful to you sucks anyhow. But she’s been all he’s known for so long. . . This is a complete life upheaval for him, of sorts,” he pauses. “He and this girl — they truly were together for a long time. What are he and I . . . 24 now?” 

You nod.

“Well, they got together when we were juniors in high school. That would make this relationship about seven years old,” he sighs. “Long time to be together—and it began when they were really only kids.”

You nod again, coaxing him on. 

“So, since they were together that long. . . there was a lot that happened between them in high school alone, but then you have post-high school when he set his life plan on the back burner for her. We had these plans — big ones. A dream we’d shared. All of us. Sammy and Danny included.”

You were wondering what the dream could have been. “What was the dream?”

Josh shook his head. “It was Jake’s first. We all followed along behind him,” he looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. “It wouldn’t be right for me to share.” 

You were left wondering at that, but you did understand why Josh didn’t want to share. There was honor in that. And he wouldn’t be Josh if he didn’t show his honor, especially by showing loyalty to those he loved. 

“So, his dream. . .,” you exaggerated the word by using your hands as jazz hands. “It went down the tubes?”

Josh gave you a look. It was a look that told you to take a step back and try to understand. 

You relented. 

You knew it was only right to put your grumpiness with Jake aside for this story. Josh was showing vulnerability on his brother’s behalf. Plus, you’d been the one to force Josh out of his moral values to divulge Jake things. It wasn’t right to act anything but respectful to these tellings of Jake. For Josh’s sake alone.

And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t dying to hear more. Learning of Jake’s past was like satisfying this raging itch.

“I’m sorry,” your voice was quiet. 

The edges of Josh’s eyes wrinkled as he gave you a reassuring grin. “It’s okay,” he patted your knee and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I know why you’re blunt about him. I know the man’s entire range of emotions. He acts like a child when he— when his emotions are so big and bad.”

“And right now,” you started. Your heart was growing slightly soft. “He is feeling the most emotions.”

Josh shook his head to agree. “Though, this girl was always a pill,” he rolled his eyes. “I liked her a lot at first, truly. But she started flirting with me an awful lot to be dating my brother,” his body shook as if to shake the memory. “It’s honestly not a shock to me that their relationship ended the way it did.”

Though, as soon as the last words had left his mouth, he looked down to consider them. He was weighed down by an emotion he didn’t need to speak out loud for you to know. Guilt.

It was your turn to reach a hand over to touch his knee. You just sat your hand there and told him. “You cannot blame yourself for any of this.”

He continued looking down. “I should have talked to him about how she would make advances. . . To warn him. Maybe he would have never gone and he could have—.”

He placed a palm to his forehead, eyes closing. He was going to get lost in this thought if you didn’t stop him. 

“Josh, she was a terrible person all along,” you placed a hand on his back, rubbing his right shoulder blade. “Jake isn’t a stupid person. He can’t be. You aren’t. And he’s your twin brother. He could have noticed the signs if he wanted to. It was his responsibility to drop her when he had the chance,” you gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Before any of this happened. Apparently he just loved her too much to fully acknowledge what he needed to do.”

You gave him a couple of minutes to really think about that. Then, finally, he lifted his head. “He wouldn’t have listened to me anyways,” He had a gleam in his eye. “My brother is a stubborn asshole,” he chuckled a little. “If you haven’t noticed.”

You gave him a look that said ‘No? Really?’ That turned a few more giggles loose from his chest. 

He continued, letting his tone become serious again. “So, our senior year, Jake really started getting serious about his dream. We all made these real plans, but they were ruined,” he paused, his mouth becoming a straight line. He was remembering a moment that caused a particular annoyance. “That was until she brought up how she wanted him to move with her if she got accepted to this prestigious school in Illinois,” he cleared his throat. “It makes me angry that she asked, but I also get wanting to ask your serious significant other to move with you. It was different—more than that, though. 

Her selfishness was so prominent so often; I think that’s why her asking rubbed me so wrong then, and still does now. She knew if she asked, he’d go. He’d leave his own aspirations in the dust for her. She knew what he wanted—what he’d always wanted. But still, she deemed her choices, her career, more important.”

You nodded, completely seeing eye-to-eye with your best friend. “I think there’s this sense of justice in you for your brother that he hasn’t always seemed to have for himself.”

“Yes!” Josh’s expression was one of relief that you understood. “And the thing with Jake is

. . . He’s always—girls have—,” he paused, gathering his thoughts. “As soon as his hormones kicked in when we were younger, he started noticing girls. He indulged himself in all of that,” Josh lifted his eyebrows. “He really has a strong appreciation for women, I’ll say that.” 

You rolled your eyes, nodding and then crossing your arms, sitting back. Your stomach leaped in a way you chose to ignore at the mention of his appreciation for women. To you, it was ludicrous that he couldn’t appreciate you in some capacity. If he needed sex in order to appreciate a woman, you were not the one.

“A big piece of him changed when girls started becoming involved. He lost a piece of himself. It’s almost as though he didn’t see himself as worthy without one. And now—.”

“And that’s why it’s so hard for him right now,” you finished the statement, bringing yourself back. “He’s lost a sense of his identity. . .

having to find out who he is without a woman.” 

Josh clicked his tongue, a smirk showing with a dimple in his cheek. “Precisely. It’s been a while for him,” a little spark caught in his eye. “On the drive moving him here, I told him that he needs to take a fucking break from women until he starts understanding what it means to think of what he wants first,” he rubbed at his forehead. “I know it seems like a terrible thing for me to say, but I think it’s important for him to put himself first for once in his goddamned life. He deserves to know who he is without a woman claiming him as her own.”

“Because he is worth knowing himself for who he is,” you concluded.

“Aw, Y/N. . . You growing a soft spot for Jakey?” Josh smiled smugly at you.

You held eye contact with him for a few seconds and then laughed outright at his statement. “You’re funny,” you looked to the clock, realizing you were only a couple of minutes from closing. You got up from the foldable chair and went to grab your purse from a hook behind the desk.

Josh followed your lead, but stopped to look for his phone. He tapped at all of his pockets.  Then, coming up short, he looked around the register and the checkout counter. 

You helped him look. But, the sound of Gloria Gaynor belting that “she will survive” helped you locate it easier. You saw it light up, sitting atop a box of new records at the back of the shop. 

You groaned, already walking to get it for him.

“Josh, you have got to be better about keeping track of your phone.”

Josh tsked at you, “And you have got to be better about not bossing me around,” he turned off the lights around the register. “I refuse to be a slave to such a tiny device that doesn’t serve any purpose to my spiritual healing.” 

You rolled your eyes at him, though you knew he was right. As you approached his phone, you got one final glimpse at the caller ID picture. It had been a picture of Jake. 

Even though you had just taken a deep dive into Jake’s past and grown a tiny fraction of sympathy and understanding for him. . .his picture still made you want to punch things. 

As much as his recent past had sucked, he  treated you with such blatant disrespect for someone who had offered their home to him. 

When you traipsed back over to Josh, he was waiting for you at the door, hand already on the doorknob to leave. “Jake called you.”

Josh turned around. His back was facing you and a thumb pointed behind him. “Pocket,” he said.

You snickered a little bit and did as he told you. Josh was choosing you over his prick of a brother and, quite frankly, you were bursting at the seams. 

🌼🌼🌼

You were not ready to go home to more awkwardness and Josh could tell as much, so he invited you to get a quick drink after work with him. 

He filled you in on everything else he deemed necessary as you drank a couple of margaritas on the rocks, him settling on just one Salty Dog.

Josh told a few finishing details about how much it had sucked to be separated from his womb mate for so many years.

“It honestly felt like I was cut off from him.”

Your heart hurt for him. “I’m glad he is nearer to you now,” you paused, curious. “Did he miss you that much too?”

Josh set a look on you, “Who was the first person he called after it happened? He was ready to be with me again,” he put a hand over his heart. “Came back to his understanding, sensitive twin . . . every moon needs its sun.”

You gave a conceding nod and shrug. “Fair,” you smiled. “You're obviously the sun.”

“Obviously,” he flashed a smile your way. “He might not admit it right now, but he was not at his happiest with her,” he stated. “As ironic or untrue it may seem with his moodiness, I think if he isn’t already, Jake is on his way to feeling the most free he has in a long time. I’m glad to have him back with me. Being away from each other wasn’t good for either of us.”

Your heart swelled for the tenderhearted man next to you. You watched as he looked off into space with what could only be described as a soft sort of pensiveness. You were happy for your friend, despite how Jake was acting or made you feel.

You felt your head get slightly light from the alcohol on an almost empty stomach from being at work nearly all day. You were still so curious, you wanted to know more.

“So, how did it happen?”

“Well, all I know is she was getting quite distant for a while, but Jacob thought she was only distracted by her job. Gave her the benefit of the doubt, let her do her thing and just followed along,” he gave you a look. “He did that much too often. My brother isn’t a puppy dog, but he followed her around like one,” Josh’s jaw clenched and he scratched at his bare chin. “One would say that he loved her. But as his twin, if my telepathic brain is worth anything, I believe that more than love, Jake shared so much with her when they were young that he felt obligated to follow her lead. . .no matter what.”

“And that makes you angry.”

“Oh, quite,” he continued, eyebrows bunched together. “The way he put it when he told me of the situation was that it was as though she was,” he held up air quotes. “‘Shooting the shit.’”

“Just told him like it was no big deal?” You shook your head. “That’s harsh.” 

“More than that, told him in a way that made it seem like she was already done. Essentially, his reaction meant nothing to her. She just needed to tell him in order to end things,” he continued. “She told him it had been going on for quite some time and that she didn’t think they could make it work after it all.”

“What did she do after she told him? What happened after?”

Alcohol was interacting with your senses. Otherwise, you wouldn’t show open curiosity like this. You were sure of it. 

“Well, she left,” He chewed his lip lightly. “Left Jake to deal with the aftermath — the knowledge of it all — by himself. She went to stay with a friend and he had exactly a week to get his shit together and move out. So, being the decent and thoughtful person he is,” you made a sound. Josh gave you a look. “He respected her wishes and got the hell out.”

You really had no words for the situation. It was horrid for Jake, you had to admit. You felt bad for him. You really did. Even though he pissed you off beyond belief, you still knew he was deserving of better than any of what she had put him through. 

You just wished he wouldn’t react in a way that made him become an utter jerk. Due to his attitude, you couldn’t claim that you knew the person who seemed so selfless and loving in Josh’s stories. 

The person you knew was the opposite of the one told in Josh’s tales. 

You only knew a self-centered jerk who held absolutely no respect for you in any way. 

You hated to admit to yourself just how much you wished to know the person Josh had told you about this evening. 

🌼🌼🌼

As Josh dropped you off at the stoop to your apartment that night, he shared with you an idea that had come to him. 

“This weekend. We need to do something this weekend.”

You quickly agreed, “Yes! I’d love to have a weekend that’s just us. . .like old times.”

“Actually,” he scuffed the bottom of his white sneaker against the stair step he stood on. He eyed you. “How about we involve Sammy and Danny?”

You could be okay with that. Then suddenly, your stomach flipped. “What about Jake?”

He met your eyes. “He would join. All of us. Game night.”

“Josh,” his name came out like a child’s whine. “Why?” 

He put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “It will be good for both of you. He’ll get to be around you with others and you’ll get to be around him while he’s with people he already knows and feels most comfortable with,” he squeezed lightly at your shoulder. “It will be great. He’ll come out of his shell, and surely he’ll act a little more like himself if he’s around myself and the other two.”

Your stomach rolled at the idea of actually spending any sort of time with Jake. 

Establishing rules? Sure, you could do that. It might take 10 minutes max. But an extended amount of time actually hanging out? 

You agreed to it before Josh left you that night, even though you had your hesitations. 

You wanted to bring some joy to the man that had been there for you through so much. You were also desperate to look like the bigger person in this situation. And, surely agreeing to this would make Josh see that you were trying when Jake wasn’t. 

You needed Josh to see the trueness of your heart in all of this, no matter how much bitterness his brother had caused you.

When you’d entered your home that evening, the lights had all been off. Jake’s door was closed. He was asleep. Thank God.

As you stood at the bathroom mirror taking off your makeup, you convinced yourself it would be fine. You could find positives. You’d hung out with the other three before. You all got along very well in a group setting and honestly always had a great time. That part would be all right.

You just had to convince yourself that Jake wouldn’t ruin it by simply being there with his persistent little dark cloud of distemper. 

By the time you tucked yourself under your covers, you decided no matter what, you would have a fun time. If only for the benefit of the other boys and yourself.

You were also determined to show the best parts of yourself to Jake. A darker part of you wanted him to feel slightly (very) guilty for how he’d been treating his simply incredible roommate. 

But before game night, you had to talk to him about your rules. You weren’t looking forward to him blowing you off. You had a terrible idea that would be the response you’d get to you speaking to him. 

But you still had to try.

🌼🌼🌼

You thought through the best time to go over the rules with him, and decided the day before your night with the guys was the best option.

Your mind had settled on Jake taking two possible routes with the conversation. You figured going over them on that Friday before would work for both of these possibilities. 

One possibility was that he would sulk and pout and react like an asshole, and doing it on Friday would give him an entire day to do so. The second option was that he could very possibly just straight up ignore you like he usually did. And, you thought it best to do it a day before he would be forced to associate with you. 

It also seemed fitting to do so on the day that marked almost an entire month of him living with you. You were only one day away from it having been a whole month of him sharing your home. What a perfect time to actually acknowledge and officially, really talk to you. 

Time for him to realize all you were was a super kind person. A person who offered him shelter when there was virtually nowhere else for him to go. 

He needed to respect you and your hospitality.

You had gotten used to him usually arriving home by six every night. So, you loomed in the living room until he got home around six that evening. 

And almost right at 6 o’clock, you heard his keys jingle in the lock. 

As soon as he walked in and saw you leaning against the couch, he stopped to stare at you. It was an awkward-ass stare that made you want to slap him right across the smooth skin of his tanned cheek. 

He was just infuriating. 

“Hey,” you started, trying to sound easygoing. You didn’t know why you were nervous, but you were. 

“Hi,” his response was spoken as a question. 

You knew that you standing there probably seemed extremely odd to the man.

You didn’t care if it made him feel uncomfortable. He deserved it after making you feel edgy for the last month in your own home.

He started to move on from you, already deciding to disregard you. 

“So,” you started, sticking to the assignment. And, surprisingly when you spoke, he stopped in his tracks. “I think I’ve decided it might be a good idea to make some apartment rules.”

With his back facing you, you saw him shake his head. His wavy locks caught the streams of the evening sun’s yellow glow, making the head shake that much more offensive. 

When he still didn’t turn around, you continued. “You can go change your clothes if you want,” you folded your arms tighter to your chest. “I’ll wait out here.”

He then turned, crossed back to the kitchen counter and dropped his keys in the key bowl you’d had since Elsie lived at the apartment. Then finally, he faced you. 

Your stomach did a little flip. Why were you nervous to establish these rules for your apartment? You just needed to get it over with. 

He raised his eyebrows and gave you a look that said ‘so?’ 

His face showed that he was already irritated. It was like the mere act of standing across from you was too much. Being forced to interact with you was a hassle. 

And instantly, you were irked. Could he be any more ridiculous? 

Admittedly, you were also already done with this talk. Screw him. You heatedly whipped your phone out of the back pocket of your jean shorts. You clicked through to your notes, where you’d started the rule list. 

You started with the most agreeable rules.

“The first rule: don’t go in each other’s rooms. I think that’s common sense, but just in case it needs to be stated,” you moved on. “Number two: if we buy food or drinks, they belong to us and only us. I was thinking we could even make two separate sides of the fridge. One side for yours and one for mine.”

You looked up when you heard him take a breath. You looked at him just in time to see him breathe out a tight-lipped sigh, a mocking smirk on his face as he bugged his eyes. 

You chose to ignore him, blatantly rolling your eyes and looked back to your phone. 

“Rule number three: do your own dishes and do your best to keep the sink empty. Rule number four: keep our common spaces clean. You know, kitchen, dining room, living room, bathroom. . .clean up after yourself,” you glanced at him, seeing that he was looking into space, eyes still huge. His arms were crossed across his chest as yours had been. “Rule five: do your own laundry. And I think switching off every other day for whose laundry day it is would be a good idea. I get Monday, you get Tuesday, I get Wednesday. . .and so on.”

You paused, giving him room for notes if he had any. His face held a look you couldn’t quite read. 

“Any thoughts?” You questioned. 

He gave a little chuckle that seemed to mock the same air you’d just spoken the rules to. It was insulting. Still, you wanted to hear from him. So you waited. 

And after a solid two minutes of just standing there, he loudly exhaled. His hand combed through the front of his hair, pushing it back. His eyes blinked a couple of times afterwards. “You seem to have it all nailed down, roomie.”

“Well, thanks,” you hesitantly responded. You were pleased that he was okay with what you’d shared so far. But his mention of the nickname seemed more snarky than anything.

“No, I mean,” he cleared his throat, rubbing at his chin. “You’ve got it nailed down. Like, you left no room for any ‘notes.’”

You scoffed at the air quotes he gave the word. “I’ve hardly ‘nailed it down’,” you gave your own air quotes for his words. “These are just an outline of ideas I have.”

“Just keep going,” he sighed as though he was completely exasperated and tucked both hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I have a date in like an hour.”

“A date?” 

“And it’s your business how?”

“You just told me,” you argued. “That’s how.”

“Didn’t mean you could ask questions about it,” he bit back. “I was just telling you so you would know I don’t have time to just stand here and listen to you drag on about these ‘rules’.”

You shook your head, shocked at how rude a person could be. Completely in awe of the man, you decided you would continue. You were ready to be rid of him. 

“Fine,” you angrily pressed your phone back on. “Speaking of dates. . .Rule six: when you have a date over, please keep them out of the common areas and remember the walls are thin. . . In general, no especially loud music, no loud. . .,” you cleared your throat and your skin prickled with embarrassment. “. . .  anything else.”

“Oh,” he seemed interested. Figured. If it had to do with a woman, his interest was suddenly piqued. “That also applies to you and Josh, I assume?”

“What?!” You were suddenly very disturbed at that statement. “Josh and me? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He tilted his head down, his eyes sticking onto yours, hair falling to swing next to his face. “Seriously? You apparently know the walls are thin as shit. And our rooms are right next door, so I can hear the two of you stay up all hours of the night talking,” he looked to the side, his eyebrows raising. “Who knows what the hell else you both do after I fall asleep. You are both touchy as fuck with one another, so I’ll just let my mind wander with what happens behind closed doors.”

You started laughing hysterically at the whole statement Jake had just made. You couldn’t even gather your thoughts. Shocked was an understatement for how Jake’s assumptions left you feeling. 

“Are you kidding me?” You stepped towards him, pointing a finger in his direction. “Of course you would assume a friendship is more than what it actually is. Hopeless fuckin’ roma—.”

You stopped yourself. You had almost called him a hopeless romantic. How would you even begin to explain that you knew enough about him to call him that?

He took a step forward, his jaw clenched. He crossed his arms across his chest again. His chest seemed to continue to rise with his irritation. His fingers were digging into his biceps, clad in his light blue button-up.

“No, finish. Please.” 

Your blood pressure was rising, you felt your skin prickling with embarrassment and guilt. Your heart was racing. You shouldn’t have exploded and almost exposed what Josh had told you. You couldn’t betray Josh’s trust like that. You were being errant. You knew an anxiety attack was on the horizon if you didn’t stop soon. Betraying someone you love was known to bring you to tears quicker than almost anything else. 

You also couldn’t deny how bad you felt for referring to something that was probably still a sensitive topic to your roommate. As much as you despised him, you didn’t have to be so overtly uncool towards him in a hard time.

“Let’s just keep on with the rules,” you tried to calm yourself down. You didn’t need to have an anxiety attack in front of him. That was the last thing you needed. “Please?”

He seemed to catch on to your nerves. And luck seemed to be on your side with how he relented so quickly. He still seemed a little irked, but his eyes were softer than they were before.

“Go on.”

You breathed in and out once, then situated your nerves the best you could to finish. 

“I, um, I thought it would be cool to add a little something that would help keep us accountable for getting to know each other,” you didn’t want to meet his eyes, so you kept yours glued to the screen of your phone. “We both love music, so I was thinking. . .Rule seven: we switch off every other night and play a record on the record player. One of our own choosing. It would give us a good idea of who we’re living with.”

“Because the music we love really says so much about who we are,” he agreed honestly. 

You looked up after he’d spoken, and the look on his face as he looked down said he hadn’t meant to speak it out loud. His eyebrows knitted together like he had conflict within himself. He didn’t want you to know he thought similarly to you, you were sure of it. He’d let his precious little guard down the slightest, smallest bit. 

You couldn’t help it when a teeny-tiny grin landed on your lips. You shook it away before he could possibly see.

“Yep. Totally,” you said very quietly in response. But you knew he heard you when he blinked a couple times and then ran a hand through his hair, bringing his head back up in the process. 

He was making you feel very antsy, and his date would be here soon. So, you tried to finish quickly. 

“And finally, rule eight: we keep a work schedule posted to the fridge so we’re aware of when the other one will be at home. It will be helpful to know if the other one is at work; just in case of an emergency or anything, I thought it’d be helpful.”

You looked up as you finished, he was now leaning back against the kitchen counter. His amber-brown eyes stayed locked on yours earnestly for a bit. You felt your cheeks heat. Then he asked, “And you’re sure there’s not anything else?” 

You shook your head ‘no’.

His previously haughty tone was coming back when he spoke next. “How do you expect me to remember all of these things? And we'll post our schedules on the fridge?”

You couldn’t help it as your heart leapt the slightest bit. He still wasn’t completely rejecting any of the rules. In fact, unless he was somehow being sarcastic, he even wanted a way to remember them. 

“I—I’ll print it all out at work and put everything on the fridge,” you shoved your phone into your back pocket. “I’ll even include a place for our phone numbers, just in case we ever need those.” You added, "And we can just post our schedules when we get them every week."

He nodded once. He looked up at the ceiling then, obviously done with the conversation. You didn’t blame him. You really were too. 

You were suddenly longing for him to ignore you again. His presence was making you tense. You didn’t know how to act around him. You hadn’t had that problem with anyone for a long time. 

The last time was probably middle school when no one knew how to act around each other. 

But now as an adult woman? You hated that someone made you feel like this. 

And in your own home, no less.

He pushed off the counter and started to his room. Then, only steps from his room, he turned on his boot to face you, he held a look of blatant vexation. 

Ugh, what now? You thought.

“Do we really have to have our own sections for our food and drinks in the fridge? Why don’t we just put our initials on things that belong to us?” He reasoned. “I’ll even buy the damned Sharpie.”

You couldn’t find a way to dispute his suggestion in the moment. You could agree with that. “Yeah, sounds good. Good idea.”

He gave an almost-smile (couldn’t show too much cordiality), “I have a few of those every once in a while.” 

He then got a smug grin on his face, “Oh, and you might want to get some earplugs for tonight. . .paper thin walls and all that.”

“Jake,” you were stunned at the audacity. Your shoulders tightened up. “Seriously?”

He set his head back, raising his eyebrows up. A smirk raised his lips, “Nowhere on that rules list did you say I’m not allowed to bring women over. And I really can’t control whether or not I make them scream,” he set you with a stare, raising a brow. “And I’ve gotta say, that’s always been a pretty normal occurrence,” he paused. “And I most likely wouldn’t have been too keen on following a ‘no women’ rule anyway, so.”

“Asshole,” You scoffed, your thighs quivered. The disdain he caused you floated through your whole body. “A little full of yourself?”

“Alright then, don’t plug your ears,” his smirk only grew. “You’ll hear for yourself tonight. Post-breakup recovery fuck, y’know? Gotta get some of this lingering tension out of my system,” he shook his shoulders and arms out to emphasize his words.

Your skin grew angry goosebumps at the thought of everything he’d just said to you. You were amazed by him. Truly. 

Not in a good way. Not amazed in the sense he’d wanted you to be.

He turned on his heel to continue the walk to his room, and you just stood in your spot. Your bare toes dug into the carpet, waiting to hear his door click. 

Once finally alone, you let out a breath you’d apparently been holding. You shook your head at his repulsive words. You were utterly shocked that he would say any of that to you. What the heck? 

This interaction had shown you that it was obviously too much for him to be a pleasant human for an extended period of time.

And he had no issue making you feel completely on edge. 

Distasteful son of a bitch.

You wanted to go hide in your bedroom for the night. You didn’t want to chance running into him again.

You stomped to your room. You had had enough of Jake Kiszka for one night. 

🌼🌼🌼

You downed the recommended 2-pill dose of melatonin that evening, but snuck in one extra with a giant swig of water. 

Jake had left about an hour prior and you’d be damned if he woke you up with any sex-related noises. 

You were ready to get some sleep anyway, completely tired after the stress you’d dealt with. Your doctor had suggested melatonin to induce necessary rest after any anxious episodes. 

You knew you were to blame for a part of the stress, sticking your foot in your mouth the way you had. But Jake was the main culprit of the stress.

And you were done with him ruling your emotions for the evening. 

🌼🌼🌼

And of course, the next morning, Jake was stuck in your head. 

You hated it. It wasn’t because you wanted him there. It was thanks to a ridiculous dream that had plagued you during the night.

Your sleep had graced you with a reminder of the moment you’d almost outed your knowledge of his past. But in the vision, you weren’t feeling the onslaught of nerves you’d originally felt in the moment anymore.

No, in this version of it, all you could focus on was the vision of his chest, how it had been heaving in the midst of his irritation.

And it wasn’t even a covered chest that haunted your dream. No, it was his chest that seemed to be persistently bare. The bronzed, silky-smooth chest you’d seen one too many times in the month he’d lived with you. 

You couldn’t understand how he was 24 years old and still didn’t know how to button his shirts past two buttons. It maddened you that he didn’t know how to button his entire shirt. His toned light brown, sun-kissed chest was distracting in a way you wished it wasn’t.

All you wanted was to escape your roommate. And now he was literally haunting your dreams. 

You had chosen to deny how you’d woken up with sweat on your forehead, hair stuck to your equally sweaty face. You weren’t going to let him have that control over you. Not even in your dreams.

And now, you were completely dreading spending the evening with him in any capacity. 

You just hoped Josh came armed with damn good booze for game night. You desperately needed to get out of your head.

🌼🌼🌼

a/n: next chapter is game night! we’ll finally get introduced to sammy and danny <3

there is sooo much to come. i can’t wait to share more with you all. like i’ve previously mentioned, their story is quite the rollercoaster. our beloved roomies are both very stubborn . . . it’ll make for a grand ‘ol time! lmao

i hope you enjoyed!! plz message me & let me know what you thought! hearing from you guys is just so wonderful! let me know if you'd like to be tagged for future chapters!! <3

taglist:

@joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @jaketlover, @writingcold, @jessicafg03, @gretavangroove, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @reesetrippingthelight, @lallisonl, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @Fretaganvleet, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @whollyfreeamongstthestars, @llightmyllovee, @sacredjake (even if it seemed to refuse to tag, i still tried - ugh! i apologize for any weirdness of the tagging. if i missed you, please let me know! i think i included everyone, but it's def possible i accidentally left someone out.)