#I haven’t drawn them kissing this year

[st-hedge]

The cringiest of smooches 👯‍♂️ (Ganon/Link)

[7official7moose7]

@sastielcreationschallenge @7official7moose7 // prompt: “how did we end up here?”

Wym I finished this at 1:30 am on October 30th when I have an appointment and school tomorrow?? that’s totally not what’s going on here guys

[tabrisangel]

WOOOOOOO i love them it’s been a whiiiile since I drew them hehe

[i-sailorstar-i]

I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! I’ve always wanted to do a mistletoe kiss with these two, and I actually meant to post this yesterday, but it wasn’t done yet…

So here’s a Santa Mario kissing his Mrs. Peach Claus. :)

[ananas-pineapple-thing]

climbs back onto the stage to continue a two day old post. also people hating rachel bc she’s rich suck bro she’s 15 what do u want her to do 😭 rr likes writing rich people with helicopters it’s not her fault

[reminiscingtonight]

Pretending

Aitana Bonmatí x Reader

Word Count: 955

A/N: Had to celebrate Fletcher's new album with a new fic

Part Two

[WOSO Masterlist]

“I think I should kiss you.”

You laugh, pulling the older girl closer to you. “Well I’m not stopping you.”

Aitana simply snorts in response, burying her face in your neck. You pretend it doesn’t tickle when she breathes out deeply, arms tightening around your waist. “How’s your mami?”

“I think you see her more than I do, Tana.”

It’s been three years but the longing from moving away from home still hasn’t faded. Barcelona’s always been the goal. Ever since you could remember. A product from La Masia, you knew you always wanted to play for the first team.

Sometimes the things you want aren’t always in the cards, hence the detour in your career to Manchester. Ona went to United but you went to City, both of you wanting to develop your football skills some more in a new city. Although your best friend has already returned back to Barcelona, you still have a little more to go before you could go back. 

“Shh,” Aitana giggles, clumsily raising a finger to press against your lips. 

It makes you feel warm, seeing how laidback and relaxed the midfielder seems right now. With all of the pressure she experiences on the daily, it’s rare to see the older girl as bubbly as she is now. After winning the Ballon d’Or, her own expectations have only increased tenfold. 

“Gotta go pee,” she mumbles, finally pushing off of you. You make the move to follow but Aitana presses a hand against your chest, stopping you in your tracks. “No, get me another drink please.” 

You have an amused smile playing on your lips as she makes her leave, dragging some of the other girls with her. 

Ona watches you watch Aitana, sighing under her breath. 

You try to ignore her, but Ona’s never one to mince her words. “I don’t get it.”

You shrug. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

It’s always been the three of you, the trio of musketeers taking on Spain’s youth teams and now the senior one together. You’ve grown up together, experienced all the good and bad by each other’s sides. 

So safe to say Ona’s been here through the years to see how much you’ve fallen for Aitana. 

And just as much as you’ve fallen for Aitana, the older girl seems to be just as allergic to admitting her feelings. 

It’s obvious to just about everyone how much Aitana loves you. It’s in all the small things. The way she makes sure to tune in all of your matches. The way she sends you thoughtless musings every day. The way she always remembers your coffee order whenever you return to town.

But Aitana’s never been one to commit to anything other than football. 

You’ve always known this, so you haven’t done too much to try to convince her otherwise. No matter how much Ona’s always bugging the two of you to make things official or for you to move on, you’ve stayed steadfast in your belief that things will work out in the end. 

At the end of the day no one’s getting hurt but yourself. You’d be willing to wait for as long as it takes if it means it’ll be the two of you at the end. Because you know that’s the only outcome in this drawn out affair. 

You love Aitana and Aitana loves you, so there’s really no other ending to this. So if Aitana wants to pretend like the two of you don’t love each other, you’re willing to play her game. 

“How long are you going to do this?”

“As long as she lets me.”

Ona looks like she’s going to blow an aneurysm but follows you to the counter regardless. Despite your silent pleas for her to drop the topic, she doesn’t. “This is going to wreck you when it blows up in your face.”

“Then I won’t let it blow up.” 

Ona swipes the drinks away from your hands before you can grab them. “Listen to me. I love you and I love Aita but the two of you really need to figure this out. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Sighing, you press a soft kiss against the side of her head. No matter how annoying you find Ona’s constant pestering, you know it’s only coming from a place of love. “Thanks Oni. But I will be okay. Please don’t lose any sleep over this.”

Ona looks like she wants to say more, but she bites her tongue.

Instead, the two of you catch up. You’re happy that Ona’s settling in well in Barcelona, but the downside to her going home is that the two of you no longer get to share every moment together. Ona’s laughing at your reenactment of Leila having to deal with the spider in your shared home when Aitana finally returns.

Her eyes light up when she spots you from across the room, hurriedly waving at you. 

You have to muffle your laughter at her drunken state but smile back to her all the same.

You don’t let it show, but Ona’s words cut deep. 

It’s heavy on your heart when you drop her off later, when Ona has to peel Aitana off of you, promising to get the two of them to bed safely. Her words are still ringing around your head when you get a drunken rambling goodnight text from Aitana when you’re getting ready to catch the redeye home.

You’ve been waiting for Aitana for as long as you remember, and you’ll continue waiting for her until she’s ready. 

Aitana’s everything to you.

So if she wants to keep on pretending, that’s exactly what you’ll do.

Even if it cuts you to the bone.

[sfznyxio]

❝ 𝐕𝐈𝐏 ❞

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. welcome to club reverie, where vips around the world seek adrenaline rush from entertainment. you’re a popular host among some of the most influential vips you served. this particular night will be the most pleasurable to ever date.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒. acheron, aventurine, black swan, dr. ratio, sunday

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. f!reader. casino au. smut. 2.2k words. semi-public sex. dubcon. oral sex (acheron and dr. ratio). petnames (baby - aventurine; my dear, good girl - black swan; my angel, my darling - sunday). use of “sir” as a formality (dr. ratio and sunday). unprotected sex (aventurine and sunday). praise kink (black swan and sunday). face riding (acheron). breast play (acheron). humping (aventurine). anal sex (aventurine). hickeys (aventurine). fingering (black swan). cum swallowing (dr. ratio). orgasm denial (sunday). bondage (sunday). gentle doms, more or less. work harassment (acheron). rumors of swindling (aventurine). all vips have their own private booths.

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐀. penacony’s story is heartwarming and uplifting, my ass. i’m using the power of horny to cope because uh, wtf. i haven’t written smut in a year so idk how this will turn out. dedicated to @aimixx, @rqnvindr, and @arkhammaid.

𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍.

the casino attracts all walks of life, including names of the unknown. acheron is someone shrouded in mystery that hosts and patrons alike are drawn into. she’s a target of jealousy like you are, the natural center of attention. a fellow host plans to humiliate you by having you trip with trays of lots of orders on your hands. your guest saves you at the nick of time, giving a death glare at the host.

“please don’t do that.” you tug her sleeve, stopping her from committing a potential murder. that host is bothering you yet again, doing whatever it takes to reduce you into a circus. acheron would pin them on a nearby surface and violence follows. you don’t want her to go to jail and this to go on the news. “i like it here. i can’t afford to lose this job.”

and you. acheron can sense that there’s more than that, but stays silent. you won’t let one person ruin the enjoyment of this job, but she can tell you’re holding it in. through the harassment you’ve dealt with from the same person, she won’t be surprised if your suppressed anger bursts out of the bottle. when you’re about to fetch refills, she traps you at the exit with one arm bent over your head. 

“let me serve you for the rest of tonight.” acheron sets you down on the couch and unbuttons your uniform, trailing kisses from your lips to your cleavage and stomach until reaching your trousers. she waits for a signal to take them off with your underwear and sees your pussy glisten under the lights. she wastes no time turning you into a moaning mess, licking and sucking up your juices like a thirsty woman. she doesn’t need those refills anymore.

“can i try riding your face?” she obliges, laying down on the couch with your pussy on her mouth. her precious host is sweet in personality, the type who doesn’t ask for much. you deserve a break for dealing with an awful person like that co-worker of yours for so long. a string of curses spill from your lips when acheron claws at your clothed tits, having you throw your bra away so she can bring you closer to your release.

“harder.” she increases the pressure, and you buck your hips faster than you can ever imagine in your life. with one of her hands spread out on your stomach and the other toying with your breast, you finally come on her face. after she cleans you up with her tongue, you shift to her shorts and remove them, drunk from the pleasure you’ve experienced.

 it seems like you don’t need those refills, either.

𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄.

the patrons at the casino try too hard in acting like hotshots in the rich people’s world. their favorite hobby is making bets with you in hopes to score a date with the most lovely host in the place, but it’s always a loss for them. their games bore you to death, but aventurine convinces you that his version always keeps you at the tips of your feet.

you’ve heard rumors of the almighty aventurine swindling the pockets of the richest investors in the world, and that’s how became the richest billionaire to ever live. the patrons joked that the casino could be next, and the possibility of your livelihood going bankrupt is a scary feeling. now that you think about it, he pays you so much for your service every time, a lot more than your paycheck. it’s not impossible.

“hm? what are you thinking about, baby?” you’re very easy to read. the rumors are likely to be hearsay, but you don’t want to lose your job. it’s your whole life. as usual, aventurine gives a check to you at the end of the session, but instead you refuse and head out to the exit. because of the sweet and kind person you are, you can’t handle unresolved conflict. you’re about to turn around and apologize, but he’s quick to confine you in that position.  

“oh, those guys? that’s not gonna happen, i promise you.” he grazes his teeth on your neck and nips at it while humping into your ass. it doesn’t take long for the both of you to disrobe each other. your body is stuck to the wall on your front and he’s inside you from behind, decorating your neck with hickeys.

“even if this place shuts down, i still want you with me.” your coworkers have said that he likes you, but not this much. he’ll buy you anything you want, rent five-star restaurants or even famous landmarks to have your dates, and have you on his bed for him to spoil with his love. his rambles are interrupted by the clench around his cock. he tries to drown out his moans by biting into your shoulder.

“you’re squeezing me so tight, baby. i’m gonna, agh.” aventurine groans into your ear as he comes into your ass. his lower half inches closer so no drop would be wasted and he can relish this moment being intimate with you. he slides out so he can turn you around to kiss you, as if this is his declaration of love for you, and goes back in with your legs wrapped around his waist.

 what a lucky day to be alive. 

BLACK SWAN.

the atmosphere in the casino is very lively, befitting patrons who love to go wild. but black swan prefers taking things slow especially when it has to do with dance. dancing to classical music with her inside the booth is a nice change of pace, away from crowds and deafening music. plus, she gets a free ticket to spend time with the famous host herself.

her unpredictability is what earns her nickname in this place. just like it suggests, she’s a rare occurrence. whenever she visits, the patrons shout out that she'll give bad luck, a “fate” she ascertained in her readings. she tells you it doesn’t phase her. in fact, the superstition entertains her that she enjoys seeing everyone making fools out of themselves. and out of nowhere, she asks you if you know how to dance.

black swan believes you’re a natural, happy that she chose a good dance partner, a quick learner who’s able to let her body go with the flow. you don’t overthink on how you’ll be perceived, or at least aren’t showing it. “good” doesn’t encapsulate who you are as a dancer. you’re “perfect”, as in how pliant and obedient you are. her desire to take you to her heart’s content grows stronger by the second.

“are you willing to try out a new dance, my dear?” it starts off sensual; your back presses against her chest and light brushes from your arm to your hip. she finds the right opportunity to snake into your trousers and insert her fingers into your pussy, thrusting to the rhythm of the music. your body becomes their dance partner.

the two of you become wild like the patrons themselves. your trousers and underwear are gone off your legs so black swan has more breathing room to fuck you and you can get a better view of her fingers in action. your legs soon start to give up and your head lolls on her shoulder. she abandons the rhythmic beat, and the speed she’s at is making it harder for your lips to stay longer on hers than you want to.

“good girl. so perfect for me.” adrenaline rushes through your veins. you whine as black swan retracts her fingers that are coated with your slick. she instantly bends you over the table, pussy exposed and wet in all its naked glory. she smears your slick over your stomach and folds before diving in again, more intense and rapid than the orchestra playing on the radio. 

this will be the greatest performance she’s ever done.

𝐃𝐑. 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎.

the patrons at the casino can either be the nicest people in the world or the most unpleasant; there’s no in-between. one of your guests, dr. ratio, happens to be on the unpleasant side and a difficult person to satisfy at first. he has been tolerating your presence from the start, and his former hosts pester you with questions on how you manage to be patient with a prick like him.

“good evening, sir. what do you want to talk about today?” unlike your coworkers who served ratio before, you’re genuinely polite and eager to hear more about the topics he teaches at his university. but also you’re awfully fragile, brushing off insults from the unpleasant crowd with a smile. ah, what a kind soul; he wishes you’d be more honest with your feelings.

“sir, do you need time to take care of…” you’re flustered, glancing at the bulge that unconsciously formed in his pants while he’s staring at you. he’s a hypocrite and has known that very well. there’s no denying that you’re beautiful, wanting you all to himself with no one to bother you. he takes your hand and places it on his bulge as his answer.

“i’d rather have you take care of it sooner than later if you so choose.” he finds his pants and boxers pooling around his ankles and your mouth on the tip of his cock. he becomes addicted to the feeling of your body and craves for more, so he gradually slides deeper into your throat until you recoil for air. he’s being too hasty. a blowjob isn’t something you’re used to.

“you’re tense. relax.” he caresses your chin with his index finger lifting your head and sees bliss in your eyes. you try again, taking him deeper than last time. you feel so divine like he imagined. he groans loudly at the scorching feeling of your mouth, jerking his cock upwards for that relief of his sexual frustration. 

cum shoots into your throat and the excess streams from the corners of your lips. ratio doesn’t expect you to swallow it, but you do and even lick off the leftovers. he’s completely out of his mind. what a kind soul, and you’re his for the taking. your service is worthy of praise, and so he gets you situated on his lap to reward you with a kiss. he can taste salt from his cum from your tongue. 

maybe the next conversation will be about what you taste like.

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘.

it’s no question you’re the top favorite within the casino. the favoritism is much stronger from your boss, sunday, who never misses the chance to compliment you for your hard work. his good looks are a reason why the club’s successful as it draws in clubgoers whose intention is to just fawn over him, however he always declines their advances.

sunday’s the secretive type, never revealing too much about himself. it’s fitting for someone who owns a place where people can be whoever they want to be. on the other hand, you’re like an open book - kind and sweet to everyone no matter how terrible they may be. it’s no wonder why they love you. he also loves you - no, he’s in love with you, so in love that he desires you carnally.

“is there something wrong, sir?” he usually meets with his employers at his office, but tonight he asks you to stay after closing and have a booth ready. like you said, there is something wrong, and it has to do with you. he can’t control himself anymore. a hand traps both of your wrists above your head on the wall and a smirk emerges on his face from seeing how vulnerable you look under him. you’re not a want but a need, and as the boss he’ll get exactly what he needs. 

“there is something i need your help with.” he beckons you to the couch. you’re helping him by being melted to putty under his touch. your wrists are tied, and you’re desperately bouncing on his cock for an orgasm that he keeps rejecting you from. this is sunday behind the scenes: a sadistic man who enjoys seeing you miserable just for him.

“oh no, my angel. you don’t deserve my kisses just yet.” he teases you by leaning close to your face under the guise of kissing you, only for him to pull away and make you beg for mercy. you want him - no, you need him to fill you with his essence so the only thing on your mind is all him, the master of your pleasure. you beg him so many times that you lose count along with sanity. he chuckles at your babbles, eventually kissing you to make you feel better. 

“you’ve done so well, my darling. cum,” he moans into your ear as he spills into you. then he unties your wrists, and the first thing you do is find purchase in his hair as you ride out your orgasm. once it dies out, he sharply thrusts into you, buried to the hilt. he won’t let you go until he’s satisfied.

his love for you is his greatest secret yet.

[togrowoldinv]

Just Right

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

You and Natasha have your first date. In an unexpected turn, she ends up bonding with your young daughter

Note: This is soft soft soft Nat. I’ve had this idea for a while. Enjoy it!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

When you first met Natasha, you had no idea that she would ever fall for you. It didn’t make sense. She is a world class assassin turned superhero and you’re a business woman.

But you immediately felt drawn to each other from the moment you locked eyes. There was an issue with Nat’s paycheck, and you were the woman to see about it.

The redhead waltzed into your office and left with her problem resolved and a new crush. Natasha then kept making excuses to see you.

Most of the time there was no issue at all, but she’d still come to your office. She wanted to see you. And you weren’t going to complain.

Finally, Natasha asked you out. It was the easiest yes of your life. But now standing at your closet, having no idea what to wear, you wonder if it was the right decision.

Natasha will be here in 15 minutes and you’re still in your bathrobe. Your saving grace comes in the form of your young daughter. The one you haven’t told Natasha about.

“You should wear this, Mom,” the little girl says. She points to a black dress that does frame your body well.

“You think so, sweetie?” You ask.

“Yes. You look so pretty in it!” She remarks.

You kiss her cheeks as a way to say thank you and take the dress out of your closet. Slipping it on, you glance in the mirror. It feels good.

The next fifteen minutes fly by and there’s a knock at your door. You walk through the foyer to open the door.

When you do, Natasha is standing on the other side. She wears a black tshirt and jeans with her signature leather jacket. A comfortable but attractive look on her.

“Hey y/n,” Natasha says. Her eyes rake over your body. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you reply, a heat in your cheeks and neck. “So are you. I just need a moment if you want to come in.”

Natasha nods and enters your home. She loves the way it feels so cozy even just two steps inside. She’s waiting by the door when your daughter approaches her.

“Oh, hi there,” Natasha says, her brow raising in question. “What’s your name?”

“Hi, I’m Taylor,” the girls answers. “Are you here to see my mommy?”

“Yes I am. I’m Natasha.”

Nat holds out her hand for the girl to shake and she does so surprisingly well for a seven year old.

“I like your flowers,” Taylor says, pointing to the roses in Natasha’s hand.

She was going to give them to you when she walked in, but you disappeared too quickly.

“Here,” Nat says while handing Taylor the bouquet. “For you.”

“All of them?” Taylor gasps.

“Mhm,” Nat assures her.

“Wow! Thank you!” Taylor cheers. She takes off running towards your room where you meet her at the doorway. “Mommy look! Tasha gave me these!”

“Tasha did, hm?” You ask, glancing to Nat. She only shrugs and smiles at the nickname from the girl. “Did you say thank you?”

“I did,” Taylor says.

“Good job, baby,” you tell her. She preens at the compliment. “Be good tonight, okay?”

“Yes ma’am I will,” she replies.

The sitter arrives at the house right on time and Taylor pulls her inside quickly to show her the new toys she just got. Natasha leads you out to her car.

“So, you have a daughter,” she says.

“I do. Is that a deal breaker?” You ask.

“Absolutely not. She’s cute,” Natasha says. “Plus, I kind of gathered from the photos of the little girl in your office.”

“You knew?”

“I know most things,” Natasha says, grinning from the driver’s seat.

You shake your head and get lost in the feeling of being on a date again. She parks the car outside of the restaurant.

“I hope you came hungry,” she says. “This is one of my favorite places.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” you say. “But I’m excited to try it.”

You walk into the restaurant with Natasha. Her hand hovers over your back as she leads you inside and to a table. There’s a card that says reserved. You look to Natasha.

“I told them I was bringing a date,” she chuckles. “I guess they took it seriously.”

You smile and slide into one side of the booth while Nat sits in the other. She takes off her jacket to reveal her muscular arms. The black t-shirt hugs her biceps perfectly. You watch as she intently reads the menu and you try to think of something to say. But the silence doesn’t feel uncomfortable.

“What do you recommend, Natasha?” You ask her.

Her eyes look up from the menu to meet yours. She tells you about all the different foods she likes here. You find it all a bit funny that a superhero knows so much about a local restaurant’s burgers, but it makes you fall harder for Natasha.

The conversation flows easily from there. You tell her about your life and she tells you about hers. You’re sure she leaves out some of the less than happy details.

It’s about an hour into the date when your phone rings. It’s the sitter.

“I’m sorry. I need to answer this,” you excuse yourself as you walk outside while answering the phone.

While you’re gone, the waiter asks Natasha if it’s going well. She smiles and gives him a thumbs up.

You come back inside with a frown on your face. Nat stands up in reaction.

“What’s wrong?” She asks.

“The sitter has to leave, so I have to leave. I’m so sorry, Natasha.”

“Hey, that’s okay,” she says. She places a comforting hand on your arm before turning to the waiter. “Put this on my tab?”

“Can do! Have a good one!” They say.

“Thank you. Let’s go,” Nat says. She grabs her jacket and leads you back to her car.

When she gets in the driver’s seat, she holds the jacket in her lap kind of awkwardly as she drives.

“Do you want me to hold it?” You ask her.

“Oh, that’s okay. I was going to put in the back but then I just didn’t for the sake of time,” she says, with a cute look on her face.

“I’ll hold it,” you say this time. Not a question. She lets you take it from her lap while she continues to drive.

You hold it against your lap. And it’s oddly warm. A lot like just being around Natasha feels like.

She pulls into your driveway and comes to open your door for you. You notice she doesn’t ever miss a chance to do that. You don’t have time to linger at your door, so you turn the key and relieve the baby sitter.

She says her apologies before she leaves and tells you that Taylor is asleep in her bed. That won’t last, you think.

During all of this, Natasha stands just inside the door.

“Come further in, Natasha,” you say, gesturing towards the living room.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. I- um- I was having a good time, so maybe we could keep this date going?” You ask, taking a chance.

“I’d love that,” Natasha replies. You breathe a sigh of relief.

Natasha makes herself comfortable on the couch where she’s noted you set her jacket down while you go to the kitchen. You emerge a few minutes later.

“Well, it seems I have no wine, but I do have juice boxes,” you say. You hold them up and grin.

“I can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure of drinking from a juice box,” Natasha says.

“Really? Oh Natasha, this is about to change your life,” you say dramatically.

You sit next to her and show her how to put the straw in the box. She does successfully and tastes the sweet, way too sugary drink for the first time.

“So, what do you think?” You ask.

“I like it,” she says. “It’s weirdly fun to drink out of the straw.”

You’re about to reply when you hear the sound of little feet.

“Taylor, baby?” You call into the hallway.

“Mommy?” She asks confusedly in her sleepy haze.

You open your arms and she walks to your embrace easily, planting herself on your lap. She buries her face in your chest.

“Did we wake you up?” You ask her. She shakes her head against you.

Natasha graciously takes the juice box from you so that you can hold Taylor with both hands.

“Okay. Let’s go back to bed,” you say, standing up with her in your arms.

“Wait,” Taylor mumbles. She reaches an arm out towards the couch. “With Tasha.”

“Baby, it’s Ms. Natasha or Ms. Tasha at the least,” you correct her manners. You let it slide earlier, but you want Natasha to stick around.

“Tasha is just fine,” Natasha joins in the conversation.

“Okay,” you agree. “Come on ladies.”

Natasha follows as you take Taylor back to her bedroom. The room is covered in fun, pink decorations. It makes Nat smile to see a little girl able to be so safe and happy.

“Goodnight sweetheart,” you say, kissing Taylor on the head.

“Goodnight mommy,” she says. “Tasha, can I talk to you?”

“Oh,” you remark. “Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Nat says. “If it’s okay with you?”

You nod and step back to the doorway. It’s far enough to give her space with the girl, but close enough to hear what they say.

“Are you going to come here a lot?” Taylor asks.

“Oh, I’m not sure. I would like to I think,” Natasha replies. She sits on the bed next to Taylor. “What do you think about that?”

“Will you bring me more flowers?” A hopeful smile rests on her face.

“Yes, I will. What’s your favorite flower?”

“I don’t know,” she says.

“That’s okay,” Nat assures her. “Is pink your favorite color?”

“Yes ma’am,” Taylor replies. “How did you know?”

“It was a wild guess,” Natasha jokes. It goes over the little girl’s head but you appreciate her awareness of her surroundings. “I just might bring you pink flowers next time I see you, okay?”

“Pink flowers! Yay!” Taylor cheers. Her eyes droop closed as she fights sleep.

“Goodnight, malyshka. It was nice to meet you,” Natasha says.

“Night Tasha,” she mumbles.

Nat stands up from the bed and you take her hand as you walk back to the living room.

“Was that okay? I don’t want to overstep but I definitely want to see you again and-“

You cut her off by hugging her tight. Your arms are around her neck and she places hers around your waist.

“Thank you,” you say. She holds you for as long as you need. And it’s definitely a long time. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she says. “Thank you for tonight. I had a really great time.”

“Even with the interruption?”

“Especially with the interruption. Who else is going to ask me to bring them flowers all the time?” Natasha jokes. “She’s great.”

“She’s the best,” you say, a laugh falling from your lips.

“I should probably go,” Natasha wonders aloud.

“Yeah,” you agree. “But before you do maybe you can finish your juice box?”

You’re reaching for ways to spend more time with her, but she doesn’t complain. She sits next to you on the couch again and drinks some more of her juice.

“You know I bet the guys would want to see proof of my first juice box drink,” Natasha says. “Would you want to take a picture?”

“Absolutely,” you agree.

You get your phone out and point it at her, but she takes it from your hands.

“I meant of us,” Natasha says. You were hoping that was the case.

You hold up the juice box and smile while Natasha does the same. You immediately text it to her. Admittedly, it’s a cute photo. You see her save it as your contact photo in her phone.

“It’s late,” you note.

“It is,” Natasha says. She stands from the couch as you stand with her. There’s a silence as she steps closer to you. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes please,” you say.

Natasha’s smile reaches up to her eyes as she takes your face in her hands and kisses your lips. It’s a soft, slow kiss. And it’s absolutely perfect.

“I’ll call you?” She asks.

“And text me too,” you reply.

She nods and you walk her to the door. She kisses your lips once more before she steps out onto the porch.

“Hey, you forgot your jacket,” you call after her.

“Keep it,” Nat says. “I’ll get it next time.”

You grin and watch as she gets in her car and drives off.

From that day on, Natasha never forgets to bring Taylor pink flowers. Even when she runs out of types she can get, she has Tony make her new variants.

And everything with Natasha is just right.

[www-jungwon]

in which roommate!heeseung insists on decorating, and you're sure he's up to something (why has he got so much mistletoe?) ୨୧

tw. yellinggg, kissing, idk what rlly went through my head when writing this its kinda cringe bro wc. 887

“ok, i give up.” heeseung looks over in confusion, holding a box of christmas decorations in his hand.

“just tell me! i give up.”

“what are you talking about?” he squints, shifting the box in his arm.

you shift on the couch agitatedly, pausing your tv show. “why are you hanging all these up? like, do you want my room, or you feel bad because you broke something that’s mine, or you’re trying to hint you want-”

“it’s for christmas spirit!”

you roll your eyes. you’ve been trying to figure out your roommate’s obsession with decorating the apartment for the last week, but every time he’s answered with the same response. ‘christmas spirit.’ christmas spirit your ass. you’ll figure it out, you just need a couple more days.

“sure.”

he raises his eyebrows innocently. “i don’t know why you don’t believe me.”

“maybe because in the 3 years we’ve lived together you haven’t ever even lifted a finger to help me put decorations up?”

he shrugs. “change of heart.”

definitely up to something.

–

heeseung is being weird. he keeps trying to hide his decorations when you walk in on him, like he’s scared of you seeing them. even though you’ll see them anyway, because it’s your apartment.

after seeing him drop his box for the third time in two days, it clicks. a party. that explains his controlling of the decorations to look his way, and the secret phone calls he’s been making. you absolutely hate crowds, and your one rule the only time you’ve lived here has been no parties. he’s never complained before, but you suppose he’s finally gotten tired.

you’ve never felt more betrayed. heeseung, the most considerate roommate you’ve ever had, heeseung who keeps track of the amount of chocolate in your storage, heeseung who buys you things just because they reminded him of you, heeseung who is in charge of all the groceries, no discussion. heeseung, who you think you might be in love with, that heeseung, trying to throw a holiday party in your apartment without your permission when you leave tomorrow.

and as you see him emerge from the doorway, his head brushing the mistletoe he hung, fiery anger builds up inside you. how dare he hum, act all normal like you didn’t just watch him try to hide his decorations, how dare he do this secretly, how dare he make you love him while he’s betraying you like this?

so when he asks what you want him to make for dinner, you want to hit him in the face.

“you what?” he asks, and the way his nose scrunches in confusion only makes you angrier, and you snap.

“lee heeseung, i hate you!”

his doe eyes widen in surprise.

“what? i-”

“you’re so stupid! i can’t believe you would do all this just for a stupid holiday party! over me!”

you’ve stepped up to him, him backing up slightly as you walk forward.

“i don't know what-”

“and i wouldn’t have cared if you just asked! i’m not even gonna be here! but i thought that you at least cared about me enough to ask instead of sneaking around.”

“y/n, i-”

“and you find it so amusing when i ask you why, and this whole time it’s been for a party? you’ve been lying to me, sneaking around, just so you can throw a party without my permission? do i mean that little to you,” your words are choked by a sob, “that little, that-”

“y/n, i promise i-”

“that little, that a party is more important to you than me.” tears cross down your cheeks, tracing over the edges of your face.

heeseung’s brows are furrowed now, a concerned frown pushed onto his face. “y/n, i swear-”

how dare he act concerned, when it’s his fault. 

a yell rips out of you, “you don’t get to care about me now! not after, not after this, not after i’ve spent three years loving you and you’ve just thrown all my trust away for a party.”

he’s broken now, you can see it on his face in the way his brows are drawn in and you know you’ve hurt him, and you feel awful. he watches you carefully, taking a deep breath before he moves almost imperceptibly closer.

“y/n.”

you sniff weakly, “yeah?”

his voice is soft with hurt. “i love you, too. and i’d never throw a party without your permission, and it wasn’t that, and i’m sorry i was being so secretive but i promise it wasn’t because of that and i think- i think you should look up.”

you hadn’t realized how close you were to him now, your hands brushing his. you turn your head up slowly, your lips almost pressing against his, and you see it.

the mistletoe.

“i love you, y/n. and i thought- i wanted to tell you, before you left and i didn’t know how, but since you were always decorating instead of me doing anything i wanted to do something nice for you, and then i realized maybe if i could put mistletoe up then you would get the hint and i wouldn’t have to say anything.”

his arms slide around your waist tentatively, pulling you into him, and you look down, falling into him as your lips push into his.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

part of winters of us, an advent calendar : day 009 prev

extremely late sry

comment or send an ask to be added to the taglist !

general @bucketofhiros @addictedtohobi @ariadores enhypen @cutesiepatootsie @sammm5225 @eupherbia

[doitforbangchan]

It’s not fair - S.C

Masterlist

Changbin x reader (afab)

Summary: As your best friend, he can't just let you rot away... especially since he's in love with you.

This was an emergency request from my lovey Bumble Bee @ayejaii who I just adore. I hope you enjoy, my dear friend :)

Warnings: Angst, crying, hurt/comfort, fluff, kissing, suggestive, cursing, Bestfriends to lovers trope, Binnie being perfect. Not proofread

WC: 1.6k

There was a distinct melancholy in the air surrounding your apartment.  The curtains have not been drawn in days, making it seem mustier than Changbin had ever seen it. He had been calling you and texting you for days but you hadn’t answered once. Even though he had been your best friend for a few years, never once had you ignored him. He knew something must have happened and in his state of intense worry he sped to your home the second his recording session was over. Good thing he had the spare key you had given him in case of emergencies.

The first thing he did when he entered was scouring the room for you. The living room looked untouched from the last time he was here a few days ago. Right before your latest date with your dickhead fling. When he didn’t find you in the living room or kitchen he shuffled to your bedroom. 

The door was cracked open, a gap big enough for your cat to fit through. Changbin peered inside the dark room, finding a cocooned lump in the middle of your bed. Your fluffy cat was curled next to you but upon his entry into your space got up from her lying position, letting out a little ‘mew’ in greeting to her second favorite human. 

Changbin gave the cat a little scritch on the chin, before he sat on the edge of your bed. “Y/n? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” You didn’t answer, he only heard a quiet sniffle come from the mass of blankets. “I’ve been worried about you, ya know. You haven’t been answering your phone. Not since you went out with Mike.” He said the man's name with a tone of disgust. Changbin had been in love with you since you first became friends all those years ago, and knew your fling didn’t deserve you. “Have you been laying here since then? It’s been 3 days.”

 At the mention of the name, you let out a sob, your body shaking as you did. “Stop, Bin.” You croaked out, voice sounding like you hadn’t spoken words in days. 

His mind immediately went to the worst, panic striking his body, ”Did.. Did he do something to  you, Y/n? Did he hurt you?” 

You peeked your face out of your cocoon just enough to meet his eyes. Your own eyes were puffy and red, as if you had been crying for hours on end. “No Changbin. He didn’t hurt me. Not physically at least.” 

“What do ya mean, sweetheart?” He was confused, he thought things were going well with the dickhead. 

“He..he broke up with me.” You sobbed, reburying your face in your covers. 

“Oh honey, come er’,” he laid on your bed with you and cradled you into him. “He was a fucking dipshit who didn’t deserve you anyway.” 

“I am so tired, Bin.” 

“What are you tired of, y/n?” He tried to keep his voice even and soothing.

“I am so tired of men treating me like trash. Like I’m some toy they can throw away when they’re done playing with me.” Your shaking got worse, hiccuping between words. “ I try so hard to be good for them, be who they want me to be, but it doesn’t matter. None of it fucking matters.”

“Don’t say that. None of it is your fault. You don’t have to change yourself for anyone, let alone some low life.” He had fury in his tone, though he was doing his best not to let it show. 

“But it is my fault!” you flung the blankets off you as you sat up. Your voice was hysterical. “He told me it was! That I- I wasn’t enough for him. That I wasn’t the kind of girl he could see himself with in the long run. Why am I so unlovable?” 

“That’s not true!” Changbin exploded. You were shocked at his outburst. “You are loveable! In fact I know someone who would kill to be with you, and treat you like you deserve!” 

“Who, Binnie? What kind of man would want to be with a mess like me?!” you cried. 

“Me, goddamnit!” Fuck, this is not how he imagined he would confess to you. It's too late now. “I am in love with you!” 

Your tears came harder, “ Don’t say things you don’t mean, Changbin. It’s not fair.” 

He cupped your cheeks, “What’s not fair, is how long I’ve spent pining after you. How long I’ve spent trying to show you how a man is supposed to treat a woman.” He was staring right into your eyes, being the most serious you had ever seen him. “It’s not fair that I have had to watch you go out with dirtbag after dirtbag, while I waited and hoped and prayed that you would finally see who was right here…me.” 

You paused, glassy eyes wide. “Why did you never say anything?” 

“What was I supposed to say? That I was in love with you while you were dating someone else? That I didn’t want you to be with anyone else? I couldn’t be selfish, not with you.” 

“Oh Binnie” You flew at him, burying your face in his muscular chest. Your fingers grasped onto his shirt, trying to bring him as close as possible. “I have seen you there. I’ve always known your worth.” 

“Don’t lie to make me feel better.” He whispered, his anguish showing in his voice. 

“I’m not lying!” you wailed, “I have been in love with you for years, since we first met at Hyunjins birthday party!” 

He remembers it so clearly, he often replays it in his mind. Being enamored with your soft smile and bright personality when Hyunjin introduced you a few years back. The pink dress you wore had hugged your figure just right, and your fluttering lashes had him in a trance. At the time, he was too chicken shit to ask you out for a real date, so instead he settled on being your friend. 

“You were always so good to me, Bin. It’s impossible not to fall for you.” You sniffled, trying to make him see. “You always treat everybody so well, I didn’t think you felt the same way about me. I didn’t want to confess and be turned down by you. I couldn’t bear to be on the receiving end of your polite grimace you always have when rejecting a girl. Or even worse, have you feel bad for me and agree to date me in some self sacrificing way, making yourself miserable.I guess that's me, unable to be selfish with you.” 

You waited with baited breath for his response. What you got instead was him wrapping his thick arms around you, and his face in your hair as he…laughed? 

“You’re telling me, I waited so long for you to see me there. For you to love me like I do you. And you’ve been over here, feeling the exact same way? For years?” His laughing mingled with his now teary cries as he took in the situation. “Maybe it’s us who’s the actual dipshits.” 

You couldn't help the watery giggles that escaped you. “ I think you’re right, Bin. We’re possibly the biggest idiots on earth.” 

You both just held each other for a while, cry-laughing together on your bed. Eventually he was the first to pull away. Changbin wiped his watery eyes as he gazed down at you. Even with a puffy tear stained face you were still the most beautiful woman in the world. 

His rough hands cupped your cheeks again, and he held your eye contact as he slowly leaned in closer. “If this isn’t what you want, I need you to stop me now,” he whispered. 

“It’s all I want, Bin. You’re all I want.”  You were the one to close the gap, your lips smashing into his with a delicate intensity. He reciprocated just as fiercely, almost as if this was a dream he would soon wake from. 

Changbin knew if you’d let him, he could swallow you whole. Make you his in every way possible. Your little whimpers that escaped you when you bit on his lip didn’t go unnoticed. But, as much as he would love to take it further, he understood it wasn’t the right time. Sex wasn’t what you needed right now. 

“Sweetheart,” he started, his words muffled when you wouldn’t let him pull away completely. you hummed, reaching for the hem of his shirt. “Baby, we can’t right now. As much as I’m dying to finally get you naked, there are more pressing matters.” he managed to gently push you off. 

“But Binniiiieeeee.” you whined with a pout. 

“I know, my love, I know” he cooed, patting your hair, before standing from your bed. “ first things first, you gotta eat something and shower.” He scooped you into his arms as you squealed a laugh. “And let’s get this place aired out, huh? It reeks of despair in here.” 

“Ugh fine” you relented, stomach growling at the promise of food. Plus if it meant you could stay in his arms longer, you would do anything he asked. “on one condition.” 

“And what’s that, sweetheart?” he asked amused when you plopped you on your bathroom counter. He then turned on the bathtub tap letting it fill up for you. 

“You have to take a bath with me.” There was a twinkling in your eye as you purred it. 

“Fuck, you can’t say things like that. It’s not fair.” He ran his hand through his hair, looking flustered. 

You pulled your shirt off, flinging it at him.

“Who ever said I was fair?” 

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

©doitforbangchan

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Name Your Price — Amren x Reader (Starfall Week)

Hiiii! Here’s my little piece for @starfallweek 2024. I hope you all like it 💕my beautiful soulmate @greeneyedivy helped me name it 💅🏻

I used the prompt “character A finally makes a move on character B”. I’ve never written for Amren before so this was quite fun!

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 3.9k

“You’re sure you don’t want me to fly you back up?”

Cassian cocks an eyebrow at you, the steadiness of his hold dissipating as he tugs his arms from around you. Though your feet are on solid ground, it takes a moment for your equilibrium to right itself. Being in the skies is something you haven’t yet become accustomed to, despite three of your closest friends sporting wings. And being flown on Starfall is an experience entirely of its own.

“You’ll miss the best part,” Cass complains, peering up at the dark canopy above you. The sky is beginning to stir as the stars ready themselves for their journeys. It won’t be long before they’re soaring and crossing.

And tempting as it is to stay and watch the sight that never lessens in its magnificence, you feel…different this year. Like there’s somewhere else you ought to be. Someone else you ought to be with.

“I’m sure,” you dip your chin. “You go, Cass. Enjoy it.”

But he doesn’t move. He studies you head to toe, studies every shred of effort you put into your appearance — hair and makeup perfected, a stunning outfit hugging your body. You feel beautiful, no doubt — and yet you’re leaving after a mere hour of drinking on the balcony with your friends.

“You know she’s just going to be holed up in her apartment with the curtains drawn,” Cass says. “She hates Starfall.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Who?”

“You know who.”

Amren.

Is it little bit humiliating that you’re so damn transparent? Perhaps. But Cass is one of your closest companions — you can hardly expect him to believe that you’re simply leaving to return to your own home and switch your stunning dress for your pyjamas.

You shrug a shoulder. “I just want to check on her, is all.”

“Hmm,” your friend’s lips twitch. “I’m sure.”

With a roll of your eyes, you swat his ludicrously huge arm. “Go back to the party,” but you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you — for flying me.”

“Good luck with the tiny little rain cloud. She’ll be even crankier tonight than usual.”

With a lopsided smirk and a fond — and annoying — mussing of your hair, he launches back into the sky and heads back to the House of Wind. You stare after him, wondering if you’re making the right choice.

Because when Amren says she wants to be left alone, she means it. But…you don’t know. Things have been changing. Things have been…different.

This is your third Starfall, since your move to the Night Court after the war. A native of the Day Court, it had surprised you to find yourself so at home in a place of starlight, so opposite to what you’d always known. But as one of Helion Spell-Cleaver’s nearest and dearest, you’d worked closely with Rhysand and his Inner Circle during those fraught times of battle and bloodshed — and bonded with them far more than you’d ever expected yourself to. Become an honorary member of their unit, so to speak.

And when Rhysand had courteously invited you for a visit to Velaris after the war was over, you’d known from the second your feet had touched the cobbled streets — this was where you were supposed to be.

Three years later, with a home here, a job as a Night courtier…it was hard to imagine you’d ever been anywhere else.

And perhaps the most notable and unexpected connection you’d forged was the one you had with the with the tiny creature whose barbed, edged words were — you’d learned — a sign of affection.

You did not understand Amren one bit. She was a mystery you couldn’t puzzle out, a being that was sometimes so harsh, it was hard to believe she had any warmth in her at all. But Rhysand giving the two of you a subject he’d needed you to research together had brought you closer, over the recent months. Had shredded through that trepidation you’d once felt around her and shifted it into something…different. Something exciting.

You find that try as you might, you can’t stay away.

And that’s how you find yourself strolling those cobbled streets of Velaris, dressed up to the nines and stars beginning to burst above you. You could be spectating the brilliant sight with your friends, but something tugs you towards the other side of the city. To the loft apartment with the sloping windows and the strange, intriguing female who dwells within

Indeed, as you approach, you find those windows to be blacked out. Blocking out the sight of what is occurring in the skies. You almost smile, but now you’re nervous and second-guessing yourself a little. You could turn away, go home — in all likelihood, Amren won’t want to see you.

But tonight feels different. Tonight feels like a reckoning.

So you swallow your nerves and decide you’re doing this.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You knock once, and a voice that is both nightmare and fantasy calls out, “Go away!”

Not unusual for Amren. She tells guests to go away, even when she’s invited them.

So you brace a hand against the door and call back, “It’s me.”

There’s a beat. And then small footsteps are padding closer. There are the sounds of bolts being undone, locks clicking. Whatever it is Amren feels she needs keep out is little more than a distant thought as she yanks the door open just a tad and eyes you suspiciously through the gap. Her steely gaze takes in your dress, hair, makeup. She lifts her chin.

“Why are you here?” she asks.

You shrug. Feel a little pathetic as you answer, “I thought I’d come see what you’re up to.”  

“Why.”

“Perhaps I find your company to be just slightly more scintillating than Cassian’s.”

At that, there’s the briefest twitch of her lips. She masks it expertly. “A dead rat has more to offer in the way of company than that boy.”

You snort, rubbing at your arms. Goosebumps are pebbling your skin. The air is too brisk to comfortably be stood in for too long.

Amren studies you again, and too quickly for you to register, she’s widening the gap in the door and yanking you in by the front of your dress. She slams the door shut and gets to work refastening the bolts, sliding across the chains, securing every lock. It’s all you can do to stand and watch.

And then she turns to face you with a neutral expression — one that says that if you find anything peculiar about her behaviour, shut the fuck up. You know she won’t tell you what’s got her so on edge, so you don’t bother asking.

Instead, you turn, still rubbing at your chilled skin, and study the general disarray of her huge, open-plan studio apartment. Her bed is unmade, her trinkets and baubles scattered across various surfaces. And on the numerous overlapping rugs that cover the floor, a gathering of books, some stacked in a pile, others tossed aside, a few open on certain pages. It would seem she is spending the night going over your recent research.

“Perhaps a drink?” you ply, angling away from the mess.

She quirks a dark eyebrow. “Tell me, what is it about you and the others barging into my home and making demands of me?”

“I believe it’s customary to offer your guests refreshments.”

“I believe I didn’t ask for guests in the first place.”

Her words, to anyone outside your circle, would sound so sharp, so harsh. But you know Amren, now. That last sentence vaguely translates another meaning: I wasn’t expecting guests, but thank you for coming. Of course I’ll get you a drink.

Not that she’d ever say that in a million fucking years.

She saunters past you, towards the kitchen area. As she goes, she closes the open books and throws them onto the stacks. Picks up empty glasses.

“Don’t clean up on my account,” you say, knowing full well that she isn’t.

“I’m not,” she confirms. “I don’t want your clumsy feet treading on anything,” she places the empty glasses in the sink and turns to you. “What do you want to drink? There’s wine, wine, or wine.”

“I’ll have the wine, then.”

With the barest incline of her head, she turns her back to you. While she’s occupied, you take a moment to study the covered windows, everything that blocks out what’s occurring outside. Even the skylights are covered, and your lips twitch at the thought of her wrestling her way up there to fasten drapes over them.

It’s all so methodical, so thought out. And though you know she’d probably never tell you, you can’t help wanting to break down that barrier and know the more vulnerable side to her that is so unsettled by this holiday.

A glass is placed in your hand, and you clear your throat, ripping your gaze away from the skylight — but not fast enough for Amren not to notice.

“It unsettles me,” she says drily, surprising you.

You try your hardest not to blink at the offered snippet of information. “What does?”

“Starfall. What it is. What it signifies.” Taking a slow sip of her wine, she sits on the rug. You follow suit. “Those stars, beings, whatever you want to call them…they are on a journey. Going from one place to another. Perhaps from one world to another. That was once me.”

“…and that unsettles you…”

“Perhaps I know one of them, from many, many years ago. Perhaps they are an associate of a time and a world long-forgotten. A past friend or foe or—”

“A lover?” you supply. You’re not sure you mean to say it.

But Amren’s grey eyes slide to you, and one side of her mouth lifts into a wicked grin, bearing sharp white teeth. “Does that surprise you?”

“Yes. No. I suppose I know nothing of your personal relationships. Of what you like.”

“I like what I like, and I hate what I don’t like.”

You stare at her, thoroughly annoyed and thoroughly entertained. Speaking with Amren is so often trickery and riddles. No matter how much you may feel like you’re getting somewhere, she always leads you on a merry dance that circles you back to the first step.

“And what of you?” she asks, surprising you.

Your eyes snag on the way her razor-sharp black hair moves as she angles her head. The ends tickle the column of her long, creamy neck, adorned with a jewelled necklace. For one moment, for some reason, the sight makes your head empty.

But you shake yourself out of the bizarre reaction and ask, “What of me?”

“What do you like?” Amren asks.

You almost snort as you take a long sip of your wine. Amren is simply not somebody who asks questions about other people very often. And the topic of your love life seems like one that would be trivial and pointless to her.

“Are you asking because you want to know?” you smile. “Or to be polite?”

Another flash of those brilliant teeth. “Have you ever known me to be polite?”

“I suppose not, no.”

“So tell me, girl, what takes your fancy?”

Draining your glass, you set it aside and lounge back, bracing yourself on your hands. And perhaps the wine is already commanding your mind and blurring lines — because it tells you to glance down at the full lips in front of you, painted with red that’s deepened by the dark nectar she sips at.

You do.

Amren watches. The air seems to shift.

“Pour me another glass,” your voice comes out huskier than you intend, “and I’ll tell you.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

“Lions?”

Rare, for Amren to sound like anything besides being perpetually bored. An hour or so later — and too many glasses later — the two of you are sprawled back on the rug, staring at the ceiling.

“Helion keeps lions?” she turns her head to quirk an eyebrow at you.

“Yes,” you answer with a laugh in your voice. “Very real, very fucking huge lions.”

“I rather thought that Pegasuses were his thing.”

“They are. But his lions are a prided jewel of his — and a court secret that I absolutely should not be sharing with you.”

Her petite, lithe body rolls onto its side. She crooks her arm at the elbow and rests her chin there, staring at you through glazed, grey eyes.

It takes only a beat of eye contact for you both to break into laughter.

This is…unusual. And nice. Though the two of you have undoubtedly been growing closer, Amren always has a glass wall up that allows you to peer through but not penetrate. Tonight is the first night that you feel that…that you might be on the other side of that wall. That she might be letting her guard down for you.

You like it. A lot.

The laughter thinning out, she stares at you. It’s a little strange to see those sharp, angled features not appear harsh and ready to slice at anyone. She appears…open. Almost normal.

“Lions,” she repeats, in something like wonderment. “And they just roam about his private estate? Are they tame?”

“He has sprawls of private land on which they can roam freely,” you tell her. “That land is guarded very well, from anyone he doesn’t wish to share the sight with. The lions are very tame. There’s a rumour — though I never got Helion to confirm it — that they once walked on two legs and spoke our language. That thousands of years ago, a curse bound them to their feline form that even Helion’s vast libraries hold no answer to cracking. And since they weren’t able to break the curse, he and his predecessors set to ensure that they would, at least, always be safe and accommodated and able to live comfortably as they are. If it’s true, they seem perfectly happy in their lion bodies.”

“So Helion allowed you access to them? What are they like?”

You smile — at the images that the question conjures up, and the fact that you hold Amren’s interest enough for her to ask it at all. It makes you feel…proud, somehow. Like the cat that got the cream.

“Amazing,” you rest your arms behind your head, taking yourself back to that private land on which you spent so much time — just you and the lions. “They’re just…regal. The males have huge, brilliant manes. The females are so lithe and elegant. The cubs are painfully adorable. There are families of them. Sometimes, they fight. Often, they play. They love to snooze in the sun and frolic in the long grass. The youngsters love splashing each other in the lake. If they recognise you as someone they can trust, you can comfortably sit with them and stroke their fur. They especially like you if you bring them food.”

There’s such a long pause as Amren takes in your words that after a short while, your eyes slide to her, half expecting to find her asleep. But she simply stares at you. Quiet. Assessing.

“I think I would like to see lions,” she says after a moment. To her, it seems to be a huge confession. Something not easy to admit.

You study the perfect lines of her face. That face that appears in your thoughts when you’re trying to sleep, think about absolutely anything but her. You’re not sure you like how drawn you are to her. She’s so unreachable that it only makes you reach harder. So difficult to work out that sometimes, you question if she delights in your company at all.

It is, after all, you who always seeks her out. Since you began your research together, it’s been you who has found excuses to see her.

You who barged your way into her home tonight, while stars collided above you.

And you who might do something unwise if you stay any longer.

You clear your throat, breaking eye contact. Your head feels as though it’s filled with cotton as you sit up and announce, “Perhaps I should go.”

Amren pauses. “Why?”

“I didn’t mean to take up your entire evening.”

“You could stay,” she also sits up, tucking her legs beneath her. “You never did tell me what it is you like.”

You take a moment to just…breathe. You’re not used to Amren being so…warm. It’s dangerous. Exciting. You don’t know if it’s safe.

Slowly, you turn on the floor to face her. “I’m not sure you’d appreciate the answer.”

A dark eyebrow arches. She likes doing that. “Tell it to me anyway.”

Should you? Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing. Maybe you’ll tell her that thoughts of her keep you awake, not in the forms of nightmares but in the allure of fantasies. Maybe then she’ll cease all work she does with you, and distance herself from you, and you can rid yourself of these feelings—

“You are what I like,” you speak quickly, flushing hot. “Who I like. I was thankful when Rhysand tasked us to work together, because I was already drawn to you. It seems I can’t stay away—”

A flash of dark hair, the potent scent of perfume and wine, are the only warnings you get before Amren is in your face, her perfect mouth sliding over yours. Wine is the overpowering taste of the kiss, but there are hints of other things behind it — sweet vanilla and something floral.

It takes you by surprise, no doubt. But you push the shock away and sink into the rightness of it. Your shoulders slump, body loosening. You slide a hand up to tentatively cup Amren’s cheek, and you kiss her back.

What starts out slow and explorative quickly builds into something that steals the very air from your lungs. Your bodies seem to move in perfect synchronisation, finding the right positions from which the kiss can deepen and grow. Amren kneels between your legs, and a sharp tooth gives the slightest, twinging bite to your lower lip — one that makes you gasp.

The act is deliberate. She slides her tongue into your mouth, folding it around yours. Your tastes mingle until you’re not sure which is yours and which is hers, and that simply will not do. You want her on your tongue. The flavour of her skin and that scent of hers that is quickly growing stronger, thicker, shifting into something else that you would commit sins to taste.

Your fingers sink into Amren’s hair, and she makes a low noise that could be a warning or a plea. The strands, despite always looking sharp enough to slice through rock, are silken, soft. You fist them in your palm and tilt her head back to kiss her deeper.

But she pulls away, her heavy breaths landing on your lips. Her eyes meet yours, and it’s the first time you see her looking anything besides…steeled. Composed.

She looks flustered. Like pulling away from your mouth was the last thing she wanted to do.

“I don’t know what this means,” she blurts.

The admission makes you pause. You agree, “Neither do I.”

“No—not just this. What you do to me. I don’t know what any of this means,” she narrows her eyes at you, almost accusatory. “Emotions like these have always felt pointless to me, but you…”

“…but me?”

“You…” the word is leaden on her tongue. “You are different.”

Her gaze slides to your mouth again, and you can tell that her comfort is in articulating her feelings with actions, not words.

And that is just fine by you.

Like she reads the encouragement straight from your thoughts, a breathy word escapes her. “Yes.”

And then she’s fastening her lips on yours again and stamping out every shred of confusion. No matter what either of you are unable to say, the dance of your mouths can speak it all. For now, no more than that is necessary.

Amren kisses you, and you kiss her. It’s deep, desperate, yearning. It’s bigger than anything and everything. The stars that race through the sky pale in comparison.

This is the real beauty of this night. The real thing you had hoped for. It could end no better way.

You kiss until your mouths are bruised and tender. Until the taste of wine is gone, and there’s nothing but the two of you on your tongues. For all you know, the rest of the world outside this apartment could have disappeared. You’re not sure you care.

You’re the one to pull away this time, but you don’t move far. You part your lips to gulp down breaths and press your forehead to Amren’s. Your voice is a rasp as you joke, “You better not be kissing me just so I’ll show you the lions.”

She laughs — actually laughs. It’s a short, brusque chortle, but it makes you glow with pride.

But she quickly sobers. Her face is serious once more, her eyes drinking you in.

“I’m kissing you, girl,” she says, “because I think about you too much. Because the very first time I laid eyes on you, it scared me — what I might do to look at you forever.”

You try to mask your surprise. You hadn’t realised—

“It was me who suggested to Rhysand that you and I should work together,” she admits. She pulls back a little, as if urging you to read the honesty on her face. “It felt pathetic and foolish, but I did it to be close to you. I can’t stop myself wanting to be close to you.”

Exactly the same feelings you had tortured yourself with all this time. To think that Amren had agonised over it just as you had is comforting, somehow.

You reach out a hand, pinching a strand of her soft hair between your fingers. She watches the action closely.

“Don’t stop yourself wanting it,” you say, not at all sure that it isn’t a plea. “Don’t stop yourself, when I want it, too.”

“…I’m not used to being…unsure of things.”

“Embrace it,” you offer a smile. “Have fun with it.” With me.

She stares at you, brooding and calculating. You wait for her to decide that this is too out of the realms of familiarity. She won’t allow herself to be so vulnerable.

But then she moves her hand to yours — the one still touching her hair. Slowly, tentatively, she laces your fingers together. She stares down at your joined hands as though the sight is alien, fascinating.

“Stay,” she eventually says, glancing up at you. There’s an undertone in her voice, an inference.

“…the entire night?” you hedge. You try to keep the hopefulness out of your tone.

Her red lips lift into a smirk, grey eyes glimmering. “On one condition.”

“Name your price.”

Your heart picks up as she leans in again. Her hair tickles your cheek, and she watches closely as your skin flushes at the proximity. Her lips hover against yours.

But instead of kissing you, she whispers four words that land straight on your waiting mouth.

“Show me the lions.”

[jaybirdswriting]

Reasons For A Character To Hug Another ლ(・ヮ・ლ)

A: Because they haven’t seen them in a long time. 

B: Because they’re touched starved and need the affection desperately. They sink into their arms like they’re a soft pillow after an exhausting day.

C: Because it seemed unlikely that they would ever see them again. 

D: Because they’re tired and are using the other person as a makeshift bed. 

E: Because they’re cold and are drawn toward their friends warm body like a moth toward a flame. 

F: Because they haven’t confessed their feelings so kissing isn’t yet an option. 

More Undercut

G: Because they’re grateful for the way the other has helped them. 

H: Because they know they’ll never see them again. 

I: To distract them from seeing something they shouldn’t. 

J: Because they traveled back in time and are seeing this person for the first time in years. 

K: Because they want to make them feel steady after a rough event. 

L: Because they gifted them something more meaningful then anyone could imagine. 

M: Because they’re proud of them. 

N: Because they can see how much the other character needs it. 

O: Because they’re a naturally affection person who loves to hold others in their arms. 

P: Because they want them to understand that they aren’t angry. 

 Q: Because they've realized just how much they mean to them. 

R: Because they’ve just been told great news and need to squeeze someone tight. 

S: Because they plan to use the hug to open the door to a cuddle. 

T: They just experienced a loss and needed to be held by warm arms. 

U: Because they need to pretend to care about them for the mission. 

V: Because they’re trying to steal something from their pockets. 

W: To shield them from taking a blow. 

X: Because they’ve reached a happy ending after all this time. 

Y: Because they love them.

Z: For no real reason at all. 

[wrongplacerighttime]

agent!harry x agent!fmc

the one where grace meets someone, harry gets jealous (again), and something unexpected is confessed. // little bunny part 4

write this and i don’t really like it but it’s set up for the next part so WHATEVER IDC 😭🤣 if it doesn’t make sense just…ignore it please 😭 i know it’s almost midnight and that means this probably won’t get seen but it’s HERE NOW.

little bunny masterlist

wc: 3.4k

tw: jealous!harry (briefly), phone sex, masturbation. (think that’s all.)

halley’s comet

To Grace, her worst personality trait was that she’s always been afraid of love. In middle school, a boy she couldn’t even remember the name of confessed his crush on her as she sat alone in the lunch room with her nose in a book, and a spark of hope twinkled in her eyes and her 13-year-old mind going haywire as she watched the blonde haired boy smile at her. Then he turned his head to look back at his friends, her eyes followed his and they were laughing. She never forgot the feeling of the stain of embarrassment marking her cheeks, or the single tear that fell onto the page she was reading when he turned and walked away.

Then, in high school, she had her first “real” boyfriend, Jake. For some reason or other, he had been pining after her and she couldn’t make sense of why the captain of the boys basketball team wanted anything to do with the quiet and reserved girl who only took advanced classes and spent her free time with her nose in the pages of a good book. He followed her like a lost puppy after one tutoring session with her, driving her around in his truck on backroads through the little town in Tennessee where they resided. She gave him everything, in every sense, and after he got it he left her high and dry. She still remembers the way the stars shined in the sky that night. It was just a blip in Jake’s timeline, but felt like a goddamned gorge in hers. As a girl, you never forget your first time…and he played her up so nicely. Being gentle with her, brushing the strands of hair from her lips, the kisses he left just behind her ear when she turned her head to the side. She didn’t leave her bed for weeks. She swore off love after that. It was real to her, even if it wasn’t to him.

Then came Harry, and to her, he was just like the rest of them, and she refused to let him get to her…keeping him at arms length even though she was insanely drawn to him. Then one day, she didn’t look at him like the rest of them. She knew in the back of her mind that sleeping with him would fuck with her head. They didn’t get along unless they’re fucking, and that can’t be healthy. Was it because they really didn’t like each other, or some other reason? She’s too selfish to give him up though, even if he might not want her that way, a relationship might be too much commitment for him but they didn’t talk about it. She had a feeling they never would. She pulls her coat tighter around her, snowflakes falling around her and her breath clouds in front of her. Her mind spins and she doesn’t pay attention as she looks towards the ground, running right into someone walking out of the building she was heading into.

“Oh my gosh. I am so sorry.” She looks up to a man she’s never seen around before, his eyes an icy blue that contrasts the green she’s been seeing in her daydreams.

“Not a problem. I wasn’t paying attention…entirely my fault. Apologies.” He smiles at her softly, an expression she mirrors back to him.

“No…I wasn’t either, it’s okay.” She blows a breath, a cloud forming in the cold air between them, and his smile widens. “Sorry, I haven’t seen you around before…I’m Grace Weston. I work on the sixth floor.”

“James Seeley. I’m in organized crime.” He pauses and smirks. “If you’re on the sixth floor that must mean…” He trails off and Grace nods, already knowing what he was going to say.

“You caught me. I’m a profiler.” She holds her hands up, pretending to surrender and he smiles at her. He looks across the street, pausing for a moment and looking back at her

“Can I get your number?” He asks, and her eyes widen. “I’m sorry! Was that too forward? I just think it would be nice to have a contact in the BAU…you know, for any future cases.” He rubs the back of his neck, a sign of his nervousness, and she pulls her lips in to prevent a smile from breaking at his nervousness. “I also think you’re pretty, and I’d like to get to know you better.” He rambles, and she nods. Maybe this would be good for her? He hands her his phone and she types her number into the designated spot, adding her name to the contact and hands it back to him. He briefly looks down at his wrist to check his watch and his brows pull together in the center.

“Sorry to be rude, but I’ve to get to a meeting downtown…and you know how traffic can be.” He says, jutting a thumb towards the direction he’s heading and she nods quickly.

“Oh, gosh! No, yeah! Again, so sorry for bumping into you.” She looks at him for a beat before looking towards the ground.

“Nothing to be sorry about. Glad it happened. See you around?” He asks and she nods again, making her way around him into the foyer through the sliding glass doors.

The rest of the team had made their way onto the jet and to Florida in the early hours of the morning, before the sun rose. Grace had sent Aaron a message privately before and asked if he cared if she stayed behind for this one. She was willing to consult from her position here and that was enough for him. A shiver travels down her spine and she thinks about the warmth of the Floridian sun and almost regrets her decision. She needed time away from Harry, she had convinced herself that much. She told herself if she kept her distance the feelings would go away. She wouldn’t feel this way if she stayed away from him, right? Love never came easy for her, and she was sure he wouldn’t make it easier either. She feels silly, falling for a person who was very much “no strings attached”. She can’t get him out of her head, her dreams filled with him, of a life with him…

She makes her way to her desk, shrugging her coat off and getting to work.

———

The day drags slowly and Grace is on the phone consulting with the team when the sound of the glass doors of the office open and tear her attention away from the video call. She looks up and sees the man from earlier this morning, James, walking over to her desk carrying what looks to be a bag of take out food. She grins over to him and he mirrors it back to her. He had sent her a message earlier after his meeting and asked if she wanted him to drop off lunch to her and she didn’t hesitate to say yes. He walks behind her, into the view of the camera before disappearing again and he perches himself on the edge of her desk. She silently thanks him as to not interrupt whatever Aaron was saying and her eyes flick to Harry on the screen. She can barely see the way the pixels of the video call catch the shift in his posture and the tick of his jaw, but she decides to ignore it.

She mutes her microphone as she listens to Aaron’s monotone voice through the speakers. Occasionally Harry or Kelly will add their input but for the most part it’s just Aaron. He’s throwing out ideas left and right trying to figure out where to start with the case. Grace can see all the files spread out in the table, the same ones that Grace has open on her other screen, and she scrolls. A crime scene photo catches James’ eye and he puts his hand up to halt her. He leans closer, pointing to a small symbol etched into the tree above the body, it's barely visible, blending into the seams on the bark. She turns her mic back on.

“Hey…guys? Did you see the symbol in the picture of our latest victim?” Her eyebrows furrow and she leans in closer to the screen. “Could it be satanic? Was there anything similar at the other scenes?” She asks and Aaron flips through the pictures to look for what she’s seeing.

“It’s not Satanic.” Harry mutters in a tone of voice that makes her eyes narrow, holding the picture closer to his face. He types in quick succession on his laptop, performing a quick google search. “It’s Egyptian.” He screen-shares a symbol that looks almost similar, more intricate than the one haphazardly carved into the tree.

“We need to have this picture blown up, it’s hard to identify from this distance. Good catch, Grace.” Aaron praises, looking down at the picture still.

“Oh it wasn’t me, it was James. We met earlier, he works upstairs in OC, we were eating lunch together and he caught it.” Grace replies, redirecting the praise to James while turning her camera towards him. He puts his hand up in a small gesture and Aaron nods, walking out of view of the camera. The screen goes black, the video call ending abruptly. Maybe the connection was bad? She pulls out her phone to text Harry.

Grace: “keep me posted.”

Harry: “k.”

His short reply makes her roll her eyes, and she almost puts her phone away when another message pops up.

Harry: “wanna start a group chat with lover boy so he can give me all his opinions directly?”

Grace: “i’m not doing this. he’s just a friend. and you’re being annoying.”

Harry: “just a friend my ass. friends that just met don’t bring each other lunch. he’s got a hard on for you.”

Grace: “so what? we definitely aren’t exclusive so it’s none of your business anyway. drop it. move on.”

She drops her phone down on her desk, shaking her head and scoffing.

He doesn’t reply.

———

A few days pass with no word from Harry, the case causing a build up of stress to fall on Grace’s shoulders. The Egyptian symbol was present at every scene in some form or other, and it had them stumped. James had asked her out on a date and she declined, really just wanting to go home and go to bed. She regrets staying behind, she feels out of the loop and she feels guilty she’s not there helping catch their suspect. Long distance while being an FBI agent doesn’t work, especially when her specialty is geographical profiling. It’s hard to create a profile for an area she’s unfamiliar with.

She showers. A long, hot, shower. The muscles in her shoulders relax with the steam blurring her vision. She just stands under the heat, washing away her stress…and she thinks of Harry. His words…his hands on her body…his lips on her neck, her tits…his teeth pulling her clit between them…Her breath catches and her legs feel weak at the thought of him. The way her body reacts to him, knowing he has this sort of control over her, she could never be with anyone else. She quickly finishes her shower, wrapping her hair in a towel and moving to her bed, not bothering with clothes because she has only one thing on her mind. She needs to cum.

Her hand dips down past her navel, running a finger through her folds before bringing them back up to her clit, rubbing gentle circles while tweaking her nipple between her fingers with her other hand, pinching and pulling, trying to replicate the way he does it. She replays every time they’ve been together over in her brain, remembering the way his breath fanned over her neck as he grunted in her ear, whispering words into her ear, words no one else has ever said to her. Words she didn’t even know she liked to hear.

The shrill ring of her phone pulls her from her thoughts, a groan of aggravation escaping her throat, so close to her release and she sighs, looking at the caller ID. Harry.

“Finally deciding to talk to me?” Grace answers out of breath, frustrated she didn’t get to finish. She tries to slow down her heartbeat, her breath left heavy in her lungs.

“I’m sorry, okay? I was being childish. I let my anger get the best of me, and I’m sorry. I know I have no right to be that way towards you. You’re allowed to see other people, you’re right. We aren’t exclusive.” He pauses. “Happy now?” He grumbles. She sighs,

“Are you okay?” His voice drawls through the speaker and she gulps nervously.

“Just peachy.” She answers sarcastically, trying to sound like she wasn’t just trying to get herself off less than five minutes ago. She gnaws on the inside of her lip. “Did you need something, is something going on with the case?” She turns over onto her side, waiting. He hums, choosing to ignore her response before diving into an update about the case as he paces around his hotel room.

Grace drowns out his voice involuntarily with her daydreams. She goes back to what she thought about to make herself get worked up in the first place, and then she imagines it…really imagines it. And it wouldn’t be so bad right? She lets her mind wander to the image of him curled around her in bed every morning, his hands gripping her waist as she stands at the kitchen sink, or her swollen belly in the mirror as she gets dressed for work for the day. A life with him.

“Earth to Grace?” His voice through the speaker pulls her from her thoughts and she blinks once to clear her head.

“I’m sorry, Harry. What did you say?” She’s breathless, feeling the arousal pool at her aching, empty hole. A smirk plays on his lips, one she can’t see, and now he knows exactly what she was doing before he called her. He knows her, knows how she sounds when she’s fucked out…when she’s needy. He knows just how to push her to the edge.

“Don’t worry about it, bunny.” He purrs and she whimpers into the microphone before covering her mouth and her thighs squeeze together almost on their own volition. “S’the matter sweet girl?” He coos and the drop in octave in his voice makes her squirm.

“N-nothing.” She stutters, lying straight through her teeth, feeling the flame igniting in her belly once again and she can’t help that he just does this to her. Her body reacts to him on its own despite the way her brain fights the feeling every single time.

“See, I know when you’re lying. I don’t like when you lie to me, Grace.” His voice is gravelly and he clicks his tongue as she pulls her lip between her teeth. “Let me help you make it better.” He mumbles and she whimpers out an agreement.

“What were you thinking about to make you all riled up like this?” He asks in a sweet voice and she stays quiet. She hears his breathing on the other end of the phone, silent. “Hmm?”

“You. Was thinking about you.” She admits and her cheeks heat with a little bit of embarrassment, but mostly with desire.

“Is that right? Well don’t let me interrupt, go on then.” He can feel himself hardening beneath his sweats at her honesty, but he refrains from touching himself. For now. He doesn’t hear any rustling on her end of the phone and his brow furrows. “What’s wrong? Need me to tell you what to do?” He jokes and she mewls.

“Y-yes. Please.” She whines and the tone of her voice tells him all he needs to know.

“Mm, okay.” He pauses, thinking. “What were you thinking about? Tell me, bunny. I’m curious.”

“Thinking about the last time…in the supply room.” Her voice is breathless and he smiles at the memory.

“Want you to pull your bottoms down for me, sweet girl.” He instructs her and hears rustling on the other end, her eagerness making his heart lurch in his chest and he feels all the blood in his body rush southward. “Have ‘em off?” He asks and she confirms that she does. “Good girl. Want you to touch your thighs, just drag your fingers over your skin, like I would do.” She follows his direction, the light touch of her fingers creating goosebumps in their wake.

“Want you to touch yourself, too.” She mumbles into the phone and he groans on the other end, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Not yet.”

“Why?”

“Want you to tell me how wet you are first, are you dripping? Want you to put a finger in and tell me how soaked you are at the thought of me fucking you against that wall.” His words come through gritted teeth and he shifts his hips, pushing his sweats down and he leans against the wall, palming himself through his boxers and biting the inside of his lip. She trails a finger through her folds, her arousal pooling on her finger before she pushes into her aching hole, feels herself clench around her own finger as she moans at the intrusion.

“Harry—” His name falls from her lips in a breathless whisper.

“Tell me.” He demands, jaw clenched and hand squeezed into a fist and he can hear the way her finger is pumping in and out, the sound of her arousal evident through her end of the phone and he could almost cum right then, without even touching himself.

“S-so wet. Wasn’t entirely from the sex, though.” She admits and he raises his eyebrow in an expression still unseen to her. “From what you said.” He combs through the memory, her pushed against the wall with his hand around her wrists, slamming into her again and again. He pries his mind and the memory of what he said to her comes flooding back. Gonna fill your pretty little pussy up, get you all full of my cum…bet you’d like if I got you pregnant too, huh? Wanna see that cute little belly swollen, let everyone know who you belong to.

“Little minx…likes being full of me, doesn’t she? Likes feeling me dripping out of her.” He can’t help himself now, the memory playing over and over in his head like his own personal porno. He pushes the rest of the barrier away and spits into his hand before wrapping it around the base of his hardened cock and pumping himself with a soft grunt falling from his lips.

“Yes, Harry.” She whines, feeling herself come closer to her release as she flicks her thumb over her clit and pulses her fingers in and out. “Want you to…need you to, Har. Just wanna feel you.”

“I know, sweet girl. Wanna have my babies in your cute little belly? Know you’re carrying around part of me and that I’ve claimed you?” He grits and she nods even though he can’t see her, his hand working himself at his own pace, his tip leaking and dripping onto his own hand as he grunts and groans at the frictions he’s creating. “Gonna fill you up, let your thighs be a sticky mess of me? Cum for me, bunny. Wanna hear you.” He encourages her and she squeezes her eyes shut and her toes curl, pleasure taking over every one of her senses. One flick of her thumb against her sensitive bundle of nerves again and she’s gone, moaning and crying out his name between them. He follows not long after her, his own release painting his hand and he leans against the wall to catch his breath, coming down from his high. Grace sighs into the phone, feeling a little hazy, not in the proper state of mind to continue a normal conversation with him.

“I love you.” She whispers, her eyes flutter closed, the pulses of pleasure still buzzing through her brain, clouding her better judgment. She doesn’t even realize the words have slipped past the barrier of her lips. He’s silent for a moment, mouth dropping open to speak but closing again.

“W-What?” He stutters, heartbeat quickening and nervous sweat forming on his brow. Her eyes fly open and her heart drops to the floor. Did she really just say that…out loud? “Grace…” He trails off, his vision blurring, his head feeling dizzy and he doesn’t know what to say.

The line goes dead, and he’s alone.

taglist: @indierockgirrl @hermionelove @storyschanging

if your tag is red it didn’t work :(

[piratefishmama]

Fake it 'till you make it | Part 19

They did eventually get to the closet, but only because Lynda knocked on the door and followed up with “Steven, when you’re finished unpacking we should really do some grocery shopping, the kitchen is… a little barren. Your father is getting peckish and you and I both know what he’s like when he’s hungry.”

Eddie had looked up at him from where he’d rested his head atop Steve’s chest, big brown eyes curious but the question wasn’t voiced. It didn’t have to be.

“He gets… bitchy, it’s not pretty.” Steve looked back toward the door and responded a little louder with “We’ll be down in about thirty! Got a little… side-tracked!” Eddie’s forehead hit his chest again, and Steve could feel the smile on Eddie’s lips appear against his chest.

“We haven’t been to a drug store, Steven, you better be being safe in there.”

“Not like that!” The drawn out ‘uh-huh’ that Lynda replied with told him that she believed nothing. Guilty until proven innocent, and the pretty set of hickies lining Eddie’s throat were prime evidence that Steve knew she’d eventually use against him. “I was thinking getting something delivered anyway”

“Well, whatever we do, hurry up, plenty of time to kiss your boyfriend later.” And the click of her departing heels down the stairs ended that conversation. They got the closet figured out shortly after. They only had a week at the chalet, and Eddie would have probably just lived out of his suitcase for that long, but unpacking was a thing the Harringtons did, so he got to see his clothes mixed in with preppy polos and extremely soft dark green and maroon sweaters that he had every intention of stealing while there.

He got to see what it’d be like to share his space with someone else. Someone who wanted to share their space with him, not by necessity, not because it’d simply ‘save space’, but by desire to.

He was being very brave about how much that affected him. Very brave indeed. Didn’t even get choked up. Not even a little bit. And sure, Steve may have, after looking at him for a second, felt the totally unrelated need to pause, lift Eddie’s bangs up and plant a kiss atop his forehead that made Eddie’s poor little queer heart do loop de loops.

But that was definitely unrelated.

And then it was back to the ruse. Back to the company of the senior Harringtons downstairs. Lynda taking one look at Eddie, her eyes clearly dipping down below his face, then looked to Steve with the most ‘I know what you’ve been doing’ expression Eddie had ever seen in his life.

He pitied the people who had to go up against this woman in court Jesus H. Christ.

She said nothing on the subject though, content to continue on as if she hadn’t just been telepathically yelling I KNEW IT at her son. It wasn’t even aimed at him yet Eddie still felt the urge to hide behind his own hair in embarrassment. “Have you boys decided on what you want to do? Groceries or delivery?”

“Delivery” Steve wasn’t even flinching. The confidence on that man was astounding. Although seeing the people he came from? Not surprising. “We can go for groceries tomorrow and I haven’t had Tony’s in over a year.”

“Tony’s?” Eddie whispered curiously.

“Pizza” Steve supplied without looking, just leaned a little closer before pulling away again.

“Oh Steven no, it was nothing but grease last time!”

“That’s the best part!”

“I refuse to have a break out at my age Steven, especially one caused by pizza grease. So, unless you can think of another place for delivery, we’re going for groceries and we’ll cook something.” It was like a battle of titans, Steve hands on his hips, cocked in that judgemental mother kind of way, and Lynda with her arms crossed, expression making her appear a cold immovable force of nature.

Neither of them budging.

“Eddie” Eddie jumped as John caught his attention from the left, the man leaning around his wife to address him “tie breaker, as our surprise guest, what do you think we should do?” And then all eyes were on him.

He liked Pizza. He loved pizza, pizza was great, but—but despite his entire life being led going against rich people and their bullshit, he… actually wanted these people to like him. Plus, groceries would be a good idea! They could get snacks, drinks, things they wouldn’t have for the evening if they just settled with Pizza. Could stop at the drug store for. Reasons.

“Uh—Uhm—well… Pizza is good, I like pizza” Steve smiled at him, and he felt bad, just a little, for what he was about to do “but—” the smile fell betrayal, he was betraying his faux boyfriend. He’d pay for that one, undoubtedly. “Groceries would be a better idea, right? I mean if we want food or snacks later we’ll be shit out of luck. So maybe we save pizza for later in the week? So if someone doesn’t want pizza… they have other options?” He was making a very mature decision, thinking very hard, all while Steve looked at him like he’d just kicked his puppy. “Stevieee, baby, don’t—”

“You agreed with my mother—”

“Well as usual, I am right, Steven.”

“Lynda please.” John chastised quietly.

“I am!” Both parents went largely ignored by Eddie in favour of focusing on Steve, who looked appropriately devastated to have been voted against by his own boyfriend.

“Eddie, you—this is just—the betrayal.” And people called him the theatre kid. Eddie, in all his years DMing in Hellfire, had seen many a stubborn meltdown, and so he could have predicted what was about to be said long before Steve voiced it, but it didn’t make him internally judge the man any less, because wow. “Well I’m not driving.” And there it was, the pout. His arms relocating from his hips, to cross over his chest, mirroring his mother. Gone was the need to make it up to him, gone was the feeling of letting down the man who’d rapidly gone from ‘fake boyfriend’ to ‘man of my dreams’.

Eddie just kind of wanted to dunk his head in some snow. Maybe go throw him in the nearby lake.

“Oh that’s really mature, Steven.” Lynda rolled her eyes, and once again, Eddie found himself agreeing. God who was he? Since when did he agree with peoples parents?

“Fine, I can drive.” John clapped his thighs, then rose from his seat “Eddie, since you’re clearly the only other adult in this room, how about you come with me.” It may have put the eldest of the Harringtons in the hot seat to say, both his son and his wife turning the daggers on him, but Eddie felt a sliver of respect for the man just creeping up on him because damn, maybe he was bitchy when he was hungry. “Let the children cool down for an hour or so.” Good lord almighty, why was this attractive?

Oooh don’t go there, brain.

“O—okay, okay yeah, uhm… will… will you be okay, Steve?” Steve gave him an exaggerated eye roll that absolutely did nothing to make Eddie feel bad. In fact it did the exact opposite. “Fine you big baby. And people call me dramatic.” He was going to give Steve a quick peck goodbye, but Steve didn’t deserve one!

So, he left with that, following John to the car leaving the mother and son duo seething in the living room. Glorious.

Part 21

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hoping I haven’t missed the requests closing 🙏if so pls ignore!

I’m humbly asking for a fluffy Gaz x reader and reader meeting price bc I’ll die on the hill of Price and Gaz having a father/son relationship. And Gaz being so nervous on what price thinks? Brownie points if Price teases him! I love Gaz sm and I wanna smooch him on the forehead!!

Shaky Fingers

PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: The perfect date night begins with a stolen wallet and a goose chase.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNINGS: None, just fluff

A/N: Switched some stuff around so it's more of the 141 as a whole, but it's still pretty much the same, enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You think Gaz was about ready to call the whole night off.

Laughing, you shake your head and walk over to Kyle after flattening out your dress with fast hands. The apartment bedroom was ripe with the scent of cologne and perfume; the floor lamp was on and you had just finished placing a luxurious necklace over your neck. The twinkling stone blinks like a white eye in the low light. 

“Dear,” you chuckle deeply to your boyfriend of three years as his head is in his hands. Gaz sits on the bed, dejected. “It’s alright, I can pay for supper—it’s really not that big of a deal.” 

“Bloody thing,” He groans, his tux wrinkled from the frantic patting he’d done to his pockets a few minutes prior. “I swear, Love, it was right in my pocket near noon!” 

“Kyle,” stopping in front of him, you grab at his wrists, peeling his hands away from his handsome face. Grumpy eyes lock on yours but soften as you send an easy, reassuring, smile his way; the lines on his forehead fall from a harsh line to a squiggly suggestion on the page that is his face. He sighs. “It’s okay.” 

Chuffing at the absurdity, your tone is a bit teasing.

“You’re acting like I don’t have a job, too,” Kyle grumbles at this, and his oval face shifts in a play of exaggerated exasperation.

“I’m not making you pay for our anniversary dinner, I’d never be able to sleep at night.” He says, and he captures your hands in his own, holding them together and bringing them to his lips for a delicate kiss. You tilt your head and watch, face heating. 

“So you can run into active warzones and get covered in all sorts of fluids but you can’t handle letting your girlfriend pay for food? Kyle, you sound ridiculous.” Leaning forward, you lay a smooch on his forehead and feel his body jerk out chuckles.

“Never said I didn’t like the idea,” Brown eyes lower in a small jab. A joke making his lips pull up in a smirk. “It’s called being a gentleman, Love.”

“A gentleman that loses his wallet, apparently. Not very soldier-like, Sergeant Garrick.” Your eyelids crinkle as you grin, firing back just as fast as Gaz blinks, brought back to the dilemma that was pushing back your departure for the restaurant down in the city. A pointedly expensive restaurant.

“It was right on me! I swear, this has never happened before.”

You shrug, straightening up to full height and tugging at Kyle’s dress shirt; prompting him to stand up so you can straighten his tie. He does so without complaint, and your fingers spread over fine silk.

“I’m gutted. We can’t go until I find it. I’m not even that worried about my money—it’s my damn ID that’s draggin’ me by the arse.” You glance up at him, humming, before pulling at the neck of his shirt and setting the tie comfortably under. Kyle’s grip goes to rest on your waist and you slightly melt into his chest more.

“Base ID?” Your voice mutters out in question.

“Yeah, that’s the bloody one. Price’ll kill me if he finds I’ve lost it. Fuckin’ hell.” Sighing deeply, you sag into him, your chin going to rest on his collarbone so you can look up at him with a tiny glimmer of understanding. 

Gaz’s jaw was tight with worry, brows drawn in and those two tiny scars on his left cheek pulled stiff. His stubble brushed your nose as he angled his head down to stare into your eyes when your grip traveled to wrap around his waist loosely. He huffs and kisses your nose bridge. 

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart, I’m ruining the night with all this talk. We should be out already, shouldn’t we?” You’re already frowning at him, pinching his side as he grunts in surprise and stifles a boyish laugh.

“Quit that,” you say, “this is just as important. Do you remember where you last put it?” 

You’d never been to Kyle’s work before—that is, the military base where he’s stationed at. He doesn’t really have a workplace per se, just a temporary office and barracks room if he needed it. The Sergeant is off across the world more often than not. 

“I haven’t got a clue,” Kyle’s voice goes low but his chest rises with gratification at the genuine care you show to him over something as silly as this. Heat rises to his cheeks when your fingers run back and forth over his back—his own hands tighten around you, keeping you close. “I knew I had it at lunch. I went out and got you those flowers from that floral shop that you like—I had to use my ID to get back on Base.”

Those very flowers were sitting in a vase on your vanity, bright and vibrant. You’d swooned when Kyle had gotten back to the apartment with them. 

“Alright,” your eyes stare off into your boyfriend’s brown orbs, focussing deeply. Gaz sees your nose scrunch in thought and he smiles widely, chuckling and lightly beginning to sway the two of you back and forth to unseen music. “Lunch,” you mutter, barely noticing.

“Don’t strain yourself, now,” Kyle teases.

“Hush,” Scolding, you fake a scowl and feel him rest his forehead on yours. His hair tickles your flesh and you giggle. Heart pounding, Gaz listens to you speak as if caught in a trap of his own making, gaze exceptionally soft and breathing secondary to the way your mouth curls into a smile; how your beauty ensnares him in your otherworldly glow. “Anything else, Dear?”

“Hm,” Blinking out of his love-struck gaze, Kyle thinks deeply—straining his mind. A memory sparks and a flame burns in his gut. His expression flips as the air sparks. “MacTavish…oh, that fucker’s dead.” 

You make a noise of confusion as Gaz starts rambling, pulling back from you and beelining for the keys on the nightside table. Face open and soft with shock, you stutter a small laugh when the man darts back and grabs you by the shoulders; angling you to the bedroom door and to the foyer. 

“Gaz?” You chuckle endearingly at his annoyed face, his lips pulled tight, and his eyes narrow on nothing as he releases you. He bends down and snatches your heels, turning and bending a knee with a groan.

“Bastard. I knew he would get to me eventually, Love, it was only a matter of time.” 

“‘Get to you?’” Amusement makes you place a hand over your lips before a loud snort can escape your lungs. “Kyle, what are you on about?” 

His nimble fingers loop the buckle of the heels over your ankle, pulling to a comfortable tightness as he cradles your calf. Brown eyes glance up at you with deep seriousness.

“Soap…I told you about him, yeah?” you nod and carefully place your foot back down; letting Gaz pick up the other and slip your foot into the expensive material. The smile never leaves your face as the calloused hands scrape your flesh. Kyle huffs out a scoff. “He’s been pulling all of our legs for weeks—got to some of the recruits first but it bled over to One-Four-One. Didn’t think he’d fuck with me so soon; would have prepared otherwise.”

“The Scottish one?” You stand fully on your two feet and grab your coat from the hook and slip it over your shoulders, glancing at Gaz as he puts on his own shoes. You go over and kiss the top of his head in thanks for the assistance with your own. “So you were pranked?”

“When he bumped into me,” your boyfriend explains, and you’re being carefully corralled out the door with your arm resting in the crook of his elbow; you grip the nice fabric of his suit and listen with rapt attention and a toothy smile. “I thought he’d just wanted to hurry on to the pub—I didn’t think much of his grab at my waist as anything more than to keep him steady. Mate stole my fucking wallet.”

He says it so aghast that you giggle and see him blink, expression turning cheeky.

“What?” Gaz looks over at you with a raised brow and a smirk. “Look at that beautiful smile—you think this is funny, Love? You are just wicked, you are.” 

“I think it’s hilarious,” your body leans into his heavily; pulling his body heat into yours and making you all toasty as you gaze at him with love. “Are we going on a mission, Sergeant?” 

Gaz stares with a vast haze of affection and pleasure, “Damn right we are.” An arm wraps around your waist and squeezes your flesh—your face goes warm. “We’re trackin’ down a shit-faced Scot on our anniversary. Bloody brilliant if you ask me. You have my six?” 

“Well,” you sigh with enjoyment, not at all angry or annoyed at the strained dinner reservation. Brown eyes crinkle at you. “It’ll be good to finally meet who you work with.” Your lips widen, “I’d be honored.”

“Christ, let’s just hope he has it on him.”

—

Gaz huffs as he pushes open the front door to the pub, and you take in the scent of tobacco and alcohol. With a muttered thanks to your boyfriend as he holds open the barrier for you, you slip inside and the smell only increases to a violent level. You blink around the old-style wood and decor, surprised with how much you enjoy the drunken cheeks and dim light atmosphere. Like a wave that goes in and out, your ears ring from music playing out a jukebox in the far corner. 

“This way, then,” Kyle sighs loudly, and you see his eyes have already locked into three men at the bar top. A loud roar of laughter accompanies the both of you as you head over to who you assumed were his coworkers. 

You glance down at your expensive attire and then at Gaz’s and stifle a loud laugh at the stares you’re getting. The two of you are comically overdressed. 

“MacTavish!” Your boyfriend calls eyes exasperated if not a bit annoyed. When all of the individuals at the bar turn to look at the two of you. “Want to explain why my wallet’s not in my fucking pant pocket right now?” 

You figure out who he’s talking to when the man with a strong face and a mohawk bursts out into chest-jerking laughter after a second of pure silence. His pale hands slap the table where his multiple empty shot glasses rattle against one another. 

“Oh, hell,” yep, Scottish. Gaz glowers next to you with a stiff frown until you elbow his side. He glances down and rolls his eyes as you chuckle—his arm going over your shoulders. 

“Fuckin’ not again—What’s he done?” The gravel in the bearded man’s tone took you aback for a moment, such a low and grating voice laced with a firm authority. A black beanie was on top of his brown hair, and tiny orbs colored like the sea turned to stare.

They blink in slight surprise when they find you, curiously shifting the lines present.

“Johnny, what the fuck?” A shrouded man grumbles, a face mask sitting comfortably over most of his expression and a hood up over his head. Blueish-gray eyes blink in your direction before their numbness shifts back to the wheezing Scot. 

“Ah, Christ, I’m sorry,” Johnny gasps, clearly drunk by the flush to his skin. You spare a look with Gaz and can’t help the amused twitch of your brow. “Didn’t realize I’d forgotten to give it back to ya!” 

“Stole my bloody wallet is what he’s done,” Kyle mutters to the man with a beard, who you assumed to be his Captain only by the atmosphere surrounding him. “We’re late for dinner.”

“Kyle, I told you it’s alright,” your hand goes to pinch his cheek before his face heats up so much you feel it from your fingers. Eyes shifting, you address the three with a smile. “Such a worrier this one,” you huff and introduce yourself by name, “...it’s a pleasure.”

“Pleasure’s all ours, Sweetheart,” the Captain grunts, raising his nearly empty glass into the air in greeting. “Good to finally put a face to a name. John Price. John’s all well and good.” He motions to the masked man. “Ghost.”

You send a nod and a grin the large and intimidating Brit’s way. All he does is stare before blinking slowly.

“Soap,” Kyle levels, shifting away from you and walking closer to the Scot with a loosely motioning hand, “C’mon, Mate, you’re piss-faced—hand it over.” 

“Does he always do this?” You ask easily to Price and Ghost as the other two go at it like teens.

John shares an amused glance with you and grunts out a low chuckle. “Not always, told him to tone it down ‘fore he gets Disciplinary.” 

Ghost huffs in agreement, scratching at his arm. 

“Like tellin’ a fuckin’ dog not to go after a bone.” You snort, looking back at your boyfriend as he begins patting down a limp and slurring Soap like airport security. 

“Seems you two have got your hands full. I know Kyle isn’t above poking fun, either.” 

“Waitin’ for them to burn each other out, Love,” John utters, and you share a cheeky smile with him. 

You enjoyed how easy it was to converse with the man—especially the one that was in charge of your boyfriend while he was away. It puts you at ease to finally meet all of them... no matter how shit-faced. 

“Aha!” Gaz’s form rips out the body of his leather wallet with a shout of victory. Soap grumbles, rubbing at his face with the heel of his palm. 

“If I’d known you were takin’ your bonnie girl out I’d have taken your tags instead.” 

“Well look at that, so considerate,” Kyle chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re demented, Mate.” 

“Ah, that’s just the top of it, eh?” You chuckle at the Scot’s comment, pulling out your phone from your jacket pocket and checking the time. 

“Can we still make it?” Kyle asks, jogging back up to you as you click your tongue; turning the screen and showing him with a smirk.

“Think they’ll forgive a fifteen-minute absence?” Your boyfriend slowly deflates and your face softens at the sight of his sagging shoulders. John sighs long at his seat and stands; slapping a hand on Kyle’s shoulder and lightly placing one on yours. 

Gaz looks up at him in surprise. 

“Well, that’s proper bad luck,” the Captain starts, face serious and tiny eyes narrowed, “say what, then, the two of you pick what you want and Soap’ll cover the cost for the night.” Ghost huffs a dull bark of a laugh from his seat. You’re not even sure Johnny heard it above him tipping back another shot. 

You and Kyle share a glance before twin smirks form on both of your faces. 

“Can…you do that, Sir?” Kyle asks, accusatory.

“What kind of a bloody question is that?” John grunts before staring at you. “Now, don’t think too hard about it, eh? MacTavish has been getting too bold—maybe losin’ a few bills’ll screw his head back straight.” 

“I have no problem with it,” your eyes slide to your boyfriend, raising an eyebrow. “You?”

John chuckles and pats your shoulders, squeezing. “Knew she’d jump on it.”

Kyle laughs, making the most of the situation as he nods a few times—watching you with his eyes drowned with warmth and affection. 

“I’m down.” You giggle excitedly and slip into one of the dirty bar seats next to Ghost, eagerly trying to get him into a conversation about drinks and good food available in your expensive dress and jacket. 

Gaz stares after with a tiny smile, slipping his wallet into his pocket where it belongs. 

“Proper Bird,” John mutters, glancing at his Sergeant, grunting as Kyle chuffs. “It’s good to have something like that to go back to. Make it last, then.”

“I don’t plan on messing this up, Boss,” Gaz’s cheeks go hot with embarrassment, but it’s telltale how his eyes never leave your frame for a single second. “Not on my life.”

“Good.” John nods his head, “Go on.”

Kyle sends him a thankful look and shuffles over to the empty seat next to yours; feeling you immensely snuggle up into his side and continue your mostly one-sided conversation with Ghost. Soap was still drinking down his beverages with loud comments every once and a while.

Gaz kisses the top of your head and waves over the bartender.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[targaryenluvs]

BIRTHDAY GIRL

pairings: eleventh doctor x fem!reader (romantic), amy pond x fem!reader, rory williams x fem!reader

summary: the chaos of your boyfriend the doctor, amy, and rory organising your birthday. but seems there’s some miscommunication and clashes when it comes to agreeing.

warnings: none! fluff, bickering between eleven rory and amy over who knows you better, kisses, hugs, short blurb

a/n: no clue why i haven’t yet written for one of my fav shows yet

you’re slumber is ruined by extremely loud voices originating in the kitchen. it wasn’t even morning in your eyes yet everyone was awake. eleven being awake made sense but rory and amy? especially amy with how cranky she gets. speaking of eleven, he wasn’t in bed.

which wasn’t odd since he quite literally didn’t need sleep but he usually got out of bed when you woke up. you’d find him reading, tossing a ball up and down, talking to himself and you, some of the more tame times. once you found him trying to do gymnastics in bed.

as you got up and made your way into the kitchen you found the three of them with a cake. “no! no! you’ve got it wrong her hair isn’t that short rory!” amy scolded as rory sighed, “i swear it is! did she not get a haircut?” amy slapped him upside the head which had the doctor laughing, “that was me you dummy. and you, quit laughing and get to icing.” the doctor raised his hands,

“ah but you see, i already have!” rory and amy’s gasps were loud. “green! you put green love hearts on the cake and- is that a hat? oh god is it a fez? and a bow tie?” amy groaned as eleven reached to adjust his own, “bow ties are cool.” the three of them spoke in unison, “i quite adore your bow tie collection eleven.” rory’s eyes widened as he realised you’d seen them. “no, no, no, no! you are not supposed to be here.”

so you wait in the living room in the meanwhile. not long after the three come in, all holding a, special cake. whilst from one side it looked gorgeous the other was a mess. you spotted a drawing of the four of you holding hands, the tardis in the background and it looked as if a five year old had drawn it.

the party in the living room has copious amounts of clashing colours and themes and they all had flour and icing on their faces and clothes. “we’re sorry for ruining it.” amy frowned, they all looked like kicked puppies and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“ruin it? i’ve got to be one of the luckiest girls around to have three people love me so much that they fought over my birthday and what to do for it. i love the cakes and the party. thank you guys. seriously.” you smiled as everyone slowly cheered up.

“you like it seriously?” rory asked as you laughed, “yes i do you idiot.” you pulled them all into a tight hug as you all laughed. you registered the rogue hand placing a certain fez on you’re head.

“now who needs party hats when we have these bad boys.” the doctor grinned as you placed the fez at the centre of your head. “i’ve never looked better.” he smiled at you, “never.” you kissed him sweetly, a hand on his cheek as you glanced over at rory and amy fussing over who got to give you the first slice.

“yeah, i wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” you had your people right here.